Betrayed By Ex, Married To The Tycoon

The spare key card she had quietly slipped from Erick's wallet earlier that week felt like a slice of ice against Elva's palm.

She stood in the dimly lit corridor of the Manhattan five-star hotel, her face a mask of absolute zero. There was no trembling in her fingers, no tears blurring her vision. Just a hollow, twisting sensation in her gut that she ruthlessly shoved down.

She pressed the plastic card against the sensor of the penthouse suite.

A soft click echoed. The heavy mahogany door yielded.

A rush of artificially chilled air hit her face as she stepped into the dark entryway. Her rubber-soled boots made zero sound against the thick, plush carpet. She didn't need to search for them. The wet, rhythmic sounds and heavy panting spilling from the master bedroom were a dead giveaway.

The sounds were sickeningly familiar. It was Erick. Her boyfriend of two years.

Then came the high-pitched, breathy moan.

"Erick... what if Elva finds out?"

Haylie. Her cousin.

The acid in Elva's stomach burned the back of her throat. A cold, sharp smirk cut across her lips. She didn't hesitate. She pulled her phone from her trench coat pocket and swiped to the camera app, switching it to video mode.

She shoved the bedroom door wide open.

The harsh, fluorescent light from the hallway violently sliced through the dim, romantic ambiance of the bedroom, illuminating the tangled limbs on the king-sized bed.

Elva raised her phone, the lens locking onto their panicked faces. She pressed the shutter button, letting it fire in a rapid, merciless burst.

Click. Click. Click.

The blinding flash of the camera tore through the room, shattering the heavy, lustful air.

Erick's head snapped up, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated terror. He looked at Elva standing at the foot of the bed like the grim reaper.

Haylie let out a piercing shriek. She scrambled backward, violently yanking the silk sheets up to her chin, her knuckles turning white as she tried to cover her exposed skin.

Elva's thumb hit the stop button. She calmly slid the phone back into her pocket.

"Elva! Wait, it's not what you think!" Erick practically fell out of the bed, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor. He reached out a hand, his face pale and sweating. "I was drunk. It was a mistake."

Elva took a half-step back, avoiding his hand as if it were coated in toxic waste. Her eyes swept over him, stripping away any remaining history between them until she was just looking at a pile of non-recyclable garbage.

From the safety of the bed, Haylie realized Elva was alone. The panic in her eyes quickly morphed into a venomous sneer.

"Oh, please," Haylie scoffed, lifting her chin. "Don't act so high and mighty. You're just a boring, uneducated country girl. You never deserved Erick anyway."

Elva didn't even waste a blink on Haylie. Her dead, freezing gaze remained locked on Erick.

Erick, seeing that his pathetic apologies weren't working, let his guilt curdle into anger. His face flushed red. "You tracked me? You psycho bitch!"

He lunged forward, his large hands swiping aggressively toward the pocket of her trench coat, desperate to destroy the evidence.

Elva's eyes darkened.

Instantly, her muscle memory-honed by years of brutal, classified combat training-took over. Her body shifted into defense mode before her brain even registered the thought.

She pivoted on her heel, flawlessly dodging his clumsy grab. Her right hand shot out, her fingers clamping around his thick wrist like a steel vice.

Using the momentum of his own forward lunge, Elva dropped her center of gravity. She twisted her hips, planting her feet solidly on the floor.

With a sharp, explosive exhale, she executed a textbook, military-grade over-the-shoulder throw.

Erick's massive body launched into the air, drawing a pathetic arc before slamming violently onto the hard floor.

A sickening, heavy thud echoed through the room.

All the air rushed out of Erick's lungs. He curled into a tight ball, his face contorted in agony, unable to even squeeze out a scream.

On the bed, all the color drained from Haylie's face. She slapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes bulging with absolute terror as she stared at the scene.

Elva stood tall, looking down at the groaning mess on the floor. She casually dusted off her hands.

"We are done," Elva stated, her voice devoid of any inflection. "Don't ever cross my path again."

She turned on her heel, walked out of the suite, and slammed the heavy door shut behind her, trapping the two of them in their own filth.