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Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable Novel Cover

Abandoned Ex-Wife: Now Untouchable

My five-year-old daughter was dying in the ICU, her heartbeat replaced by the continuous, electronic scream of a flatline. I gripped her cold hand, my throat sealed shut by a terror so absolute I couldn't even cry out. I dialed my husband Grayson's private number, the one reserved only for me and his assistants. He declined the call instantly. A second later, a text buzzed against my palm: "In a meeting. Do not disturb. Stop calling." Five miles away, Grayson was at a luxury gala, adjusting his silk tie and laughing with Belle Escobar. He told her I was just being "dramatic" and using our daughter's "fever" as an excuse to avoid the event. He had no idea Effie's heart had already stopped. When I finally reached our penthouse, soaked from the rain and carrying Effie's small socks in a plastic bag, Grayson didn't even look at me. He snapped at me for ruining the hardwood floors and asked if I'd left Effie with the nanny just to "feel sorry for myself." Three days later, while I buried our daughter in a small, lonely ceremony, Grayson was at the Hamptons. Belle posted a photo of him golfing with the caption: "A mental health day with the boys." He didn't even attend the funeral, but he returned home demanding I clear out Effie's room to make a study for Belle's son. The injustice burned through me until there was nothing left. I swallowed a handful of sleeping pills, desperate to join my daughter. But instead of the darkness, I woke up to blinding lights and the scent of Grayson's expensive cologne. I was standing in a ballroom, wearing a blue silk dress I had already burned. Above me, a banner read: "Happy 5th Birthday Kaiden & Effie." I was back, exactly one year before the tragedy. This time, I wasn't going to be the grieving wife. I was going to be their worst nightmare.
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Chapter 5

Grayson chased her into the marble foyer. The heavy doors swung shut, muffling the sounds of the stunned party guests.

"You are insane!" Grayson yelled, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. He grabbed her arm again, spinning her around. "You just humiliated me in front of half of Wall Street! You go back in there and apologize to Belle right now!"

Isolde looked at his hand. Again.

"I told you," she said, her voice dropping an octave, "not to touch me."

She didn't use force this time. She just looked at him with such intense loathing that he instinctively let go.

She raised her left hand. The 5-carat diamond solitaire sparkled under the chandelier. It was heavy. It had always been heavy.

"You think this owns me?" she asked.

"Stop the drama, Isolde. It's a negotiation tactic, I get it. You want a higher allowance? You want that vacation house in Aspen? Fine. Just fix this."

Isolde laughed. It was a dry, sharp sound.

"You really don't see me, do you? You never have."

She gripped the ring. It was tight. Her finger had swollen slightly from the adrenaline. She twisted it hard, scraping the skin over her knuckle.

She yanked it off.

She held it up between two fingers.

"Here," she said.

She dropped it.

Ping.

The ring hit the marble floor. It bounced once, spun rapidly with a high-pitched whirring sound, and settled near Grayson's polished dress shoes.

"I want a divorce," she said.

Grayson stared at the ring, then up at her. He laughed, but it sounded nervous. "Divorce? You signed a pre-nup, Isolde. You leave with nothing. No alimony. No assets. You'll be on the street."

"I don't want your money," Isolde said. "I don't want the house. I don't want the cars. I don't want anything that has your name on it."

She pulled Effie closer.

"I just want her."

Grayson sneered. "And go where? Your mother's failing company? You have no job. You have no skills. You're a housewife, Isolde. You won't last a week."

Belle came bursting through the doors, breathless.

"Gray! The investors are asking questions," she said. She looked at Isolde, her eyes widening at the sight of the ring on the floor.

"Oh, Isolde," Belle cooed, stepping closer. "Please, don't do this. We're all just tired. Let's go upstairs, I'll make you some tea..."

Isolde looked at Belle. She looked through her.

"He's all yours, Belle," Isolde said. "No returns."

She turned to the valet stand. The valet was holding the keys to the Mercedes SUV.

"I don't need the car," Isolde said to the confused boy.

She pulled out her phone. She had downloaded the Uber app while walking through the hallway.

"You're taking a taxi?" Grayson scoffed. "With my daughter? Like a commoner?"

"I'm taking a ride I paid for," Isolde corrected. "And she's my daughter. You haven't looked at her in three years."

"I'm freezing your credit cards," Grayson threatened, stepping forward. "Right now. You won't get a block away."

"Go ahead," Isolde said.

A beat-up Toyota Camry pulled up to the curb. The driver looked confused by the luxury surroundings.

Isolde opened the door. She helped Effie inside.

"Where are we going, Mommy?" Effie asked, her voice trembling.

"On an adventure, baby," Isolde whispered. "A real one."

She got in and slammed the door.

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