His Discarded Wife Was The Real Boss

Eliana POV I waited until the next morning. I did not sleep. Instead, I sat in the walk-in closet, surrounded by his three-thousand-dollar suits and my color-coordinated dresses. When the front door finally clicked open at six in the morning, I was ready. Dustin walked into the bedroom, reeking of stale whiskey and vanilla perfume. He loosened his tie, looking exhausted yet strangely satisfied. Then he saw me sitting on the ottoman in the center of the closet. "Jesus, Eliana," he breathed out, clutching his chest. "You scared me. What are you doing up?" I held up the clear plastic bag. Inside sat the bottle of bubblegum pink nail polish and the printout of the photo I had pulled from my phone. "Who is she, Dustin?" He sighed, rolling his eyes as if I were a petulant child asking for candy before dinner. "You are being paranoid," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "That is a mentee. I am helping her with some business connections." "A mentee." My voice was flat. "Does your mentee usually sit on your lap while you wear the watch I gave you?" "Stop making things up," he snapped. "That photo is fake. You know how technology works, Eliana. You fix the computers." He was gaslighting me. He was using my own intelligence against me, assuming I would doubt the evidence of my own eyes just because he told me to. I stood up. "I know about the apartment in the Marina, Dustin." The silence that followed was heavy. It sucked the oxygen right out of the room. His jaw tightened. "That is a business expense," he said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming guarded. "It is for talent retention." Talent retention. "I built your empire, Dustin," I reminded him, stepping closer. "I laundered your money so clean the IRS practically thanked you. And you retain talent by buying a twenty-year-old a condo?" "She is pregnant." The words left my mouth before I could stop them. I had found the receipt for the prenatal vitamins in his jacket pocket while he was in the shower. Dustin froze. He did not deny it. Instead, he walked over to the safe hidden behind the mirror and spun the dial with practiced ease. He pulled out a checkbook. He scribbled something hastily and tore the paper out with a sharp rip. He held it out to me. Fifty thousand dollars. "Take this," he said, his tone transactional. "Go buy yourself something pretty. Stop making up stories. We will deal with the rest later." I looked at the check. It was hush money. He was trying to pay me off like I was a corrupt cop. "I want a divorce." Dustin laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound that echoed off the closet walls. "You have nowhere to go, Eliana. You are thirty-five. You have no assets. You have nothing except what I give you." "I have my mind." He stepped closer, looming over me. "You watched me build this. You just sat here in the luxury I provided. Do not confuse proximity with power." He gestured toward the hallway. "Come to the living room. I want to show you something." I followed him. I expected him to show me a bank statement, or perhaps a legal threat. Instead, I saw her. Jami was sitting on my white Italian leather sofa. She was wearing a tight white dress that strained against a barely visible bump. On her finger was a diamond ring. It was huge. Gaudy. She looked up at me and smirked. "Hey," she said, her voice sugary sweet. "I love what you have done with the place. I have the same sofa in my new apartment." I looked at Dustin, disgusted. "This is your mid-life crisis? A club girl who thinks shark teeth are jewelry?" Jami gasped and clutched her stomach theatrically. Dustin turned on me, his eyes lethal. "Watch your mouth." He pointed a finger at my face. "If you speak again, if you try to leave, you leave with nothing. No money. No clothes. Nothing." I looked at Jami, then down at the check in my hand. I ripped the check in half. Then I ripped it again. I let the pieces flutter onto the Persian rug like confetti. "I do not want your dirty money, Dustin." I met his gaze. "I want freedom." Dustin sneered. "Then get out." He sat down next to Jami and put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, looking at me with pure triumph. I turned around and walked to the door. The slam of the heavy wood echoed behind me like a gunshot.