Genius Wife's Revenge: Too Late For Regret

She stared at her reflection in the gilded mirror of the vanity, a piece of furniture that cost more than her

ion dulled by a foundation three shades too ashen for her skin tone. A shapeless, woolen cardigan that sw

he mouse. The chari

the ambient hum of Manhattan traffic. Her heart didn't flutter. It didn't even skip a beat. Two yea

just capp

ce, and then it faded. He hadn't stopped. Julian Ford-Sterling IV d

the door frame

ad

id, holding a silver tray as if it were a shield against

spaper on the console table near the door and retreated, wiping his h

hake. She walked over to the table

s-serif font: STERLING HEIR'S HAMP

god carved from marble and indifference. And draped over him, laughing at something he'd likely n

ly part of her that was truly her right now. She didn't feel the

d, the voice raspy from d

lry box-empty, because Julian had never bought

atingly simple. She got nothing. No alimony. No property. No shares. Just a cle

e prospect of crushing the "gold digger" in court. They expected tea

ked up the

ble differences" or the paragraphs detailing her lack of contributi

n Sul

sn't the signature of a mouse. It was t

n down with a

ic from a life she had supposedly left behind. It contained two p

as light. Freedom, she reali

sian rugs that lined the hallway. She passed the family portraits-gener

ting a vase of lilies that probably cost more than a kidney, was Grand Dame Sterling. Julian's grandmot

hind rimless spectacles. She took in the su

y leaves scraping over concrete. "I assume you've finally realized that a Sterli

insult, every slight, every look of disgust. She had pl

nk was dr

y fixing her posture. She looked the old woman directly in

ith a terrifying calmness. "I signed the NDA. You won't hear from me. And frankly, Mrs. Sterling, given how

fied sound escaped her throat. She looked as if t

st the matriarch, the heels of her scuffed boo

humid New York afternoon. The air smelled of exhaust and hot

have towed twice. She threw the suitcase into the passenger seat and slid behind the

dr

eaving through the yellow cabs and delivery trucks until she reached a

. She looked into the rear

Vee," sh

ses. She pulled them off and tossed them onto the passeng

at her jawline, her cheeks, her nose. The dull, grayish foundation smeared and vanished, revea

yes were striking-a rare, vivid shade of violet-blue, fr

oing the hideous garment. She shrugged it off, letting it pool around her waist, rev

shaking out the severe bun until chest

on, Vivian Sull

way that made people stop and stare, but there was an edg

er. The screen lit up. No name.

it up. She did

t," sh

The studio acquisition went through, but there's a catch

smile. It was the smile of a pre

e back," she sa

floor, Julian Ford-Sterling IV sat at the head of a mahogany table that could

ered the room, looking pale. He hel

, approaching the chai

k up from his tab

s. She... Mrs. Ste

e had expected a counter-offer. A letter from a lawy

ney?" Julian asked, his

for zero spousal support. Sh

up. He took the fold

bold. It didn't look like the handwriting of the w

elt a strange tightening in his chest. It wasn't regret. It was annoy

's g

taff said she to

d it onto the table. It slid across the

o-ceiling window that overlooked the city. "File it. And tell P

, convinced he had just discarded a piece

e city below him was a