He Destroyed His Own Empire's Creator

Nora Kidd POV:

I pushed open the door to the master bedroom and walked straight to the massive walk-in closet.

Rows of expensive, current-season haute couture lined the walls. Ernestina, my mother-in-law, had forced every single piece on me to maintain the family’s public image. I hated them. They felt like straightjackets.

I ignored the silk and the designer labels. I crouched down and dragged an old, scuffed black suitcase from the very back of the bottom shelf.

I unzipped it and only packed the plain cotton t-shirts and comfortable maternity clothes I had bought with my own money before the marriage.

When the suitcase was full, I walked over to the glass vanity. I opened my jewelry box and took out the custom diamond necklaces and earrings Colton had bought me. I lined them up on the glass surface, perfectly parallel to each other.

Then, I grabbed my left hand. I twisted the heavy diamond wedding band off my ring finger.

I placed it dead center among the other jewels.

*Clink.*

The sharp sound of the metal hitting the glass resonated in the quiet room.

I grabbed the handle of my pitifully light suitcase and rolled it out of the bedroom.

I walked down the hall and stepped into Colton’s private study. I walked to his mahogany desk and placed the unmarked manila envelope containing the SEC amendment right in the center of his leather blotting pad.

I picked up the heavy, ice-cold obsidian paperweight and set it squarely on top of the envelope.

I dragged my suitcase to the top of the spiral staircase and began my descent.

Halfway down, the massive crystal chandelier in the grand foyer suddenly snapped on. The harsh light stabbed my eyes.

Richard, the butler, stood at the bottom of the stairs. He was wearing his silk pajamas, his arms crossed over his chest, physically blocking the front doors.

"Madam," Richard said, his chin tilted up in pure arrogance. "Leaving the premises at this hour requires explicit permission from Madam Ernestina. I cannot let you pass."

I stopped on the third step. I stood above him, looking down at the man who had bullied and undermined me for three years because he thought I was weak.

Richard pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "I am calling the Long Island estate now."

I let out a low, cold laugh. "Cayman Islands. Account ending in 8842."

Richard’s thumb froze hovering over his screen. All the blood drained from his face in a single second.

When I audited the family trusts to fix Colton’s messes, I saw everything. I kept everyone’s dirt. It was a survival habit.

"Two years of skimming off the procurement lists," I said, my voice eerily calm. "Funneling vendor kickbacks into an offshore shell company. That is federal tax fraud, Richard."

Richard’s hand began to shake violently. The phone slipped from his grip and landed softly on the Persian rug.

"Step aside," I commanded. "And call me an Uber Black."

Richard deflated like a punctured tire. He practically scrambled backward, bowing his head as he pressed himself against the wall to give me a wide berth.

Ten minutes later, a black SUV pulled up to the curb outside the penthouse building.

The driver got out to take my bag, but I swatted his hand away. I lifted the suitcase myself, my muscles straining, and shoved it into the trunk.

I climbed into the back seat. I stared out the rain-streaked window as the glittering, suffocating skyline of Manhattan faded into the distance.

***

Colton Farmer POV:

At 6:00 AM, the first sharp ray of sunlight pierced the gap in the blackout curtains of the master bedroom.

I groaned, my eyebrows pulling together as a familiar, sharp cramp twisted in my stomach. The stress-induced ulcer.

Still half-asleep, I reached my hand across the mattress, expecting to feel the warm, soft curve of Nora’s back.

My palm hit flat, freezing cold cotton sheets.

My eyes snapped open. I sat up so fast the room spun. The bed was empty. The room was dead silent.

I threw the covers off and strode bare-chested into the walk-in closet. I looked at her section. The designer dresses were all there. But the corner where she kept her cheap, worn-out t-shirts was completely bare.

My heart physically skipped a beat, a cold knot forming in my chest.

"She didn't even take a single pair of socks."