His Trophy Wife, The Apex Predator

Jett stepped out of the Vanderbilt Group headquarters, the cold wind whipping her hair across her face. She walked to her sleek, silver sports car parked in the VIP lot, the engine roaring to life as she pressed the ignition. She needed to swing by the Vanderbilt estate one last time to retrieve a lockbox of her mother's letters. Ten minutes later, her car turned onto the long, tree-lined driveway of the estate. As Arthur stormed out of the headquarters, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. He yanked it out, his eyes scanning the glowing screen. It was a text from Richard's assistant: The Patriarch has granted you full power of attorney regarding the divorce proceedings. Do not fail. A dark, manic surge of power rushed through Arthur's veins. He finally had the authority to crush her. He jumped into his black Aston Martin, his tires squealing as he sped toward the estate, knowing exactly where Jett was heading. Suddenly, a black Aston Martin shot out from a side path, tires screeching as it swerved horizontally, completely blocking the road. Jett slammed on her brakes. The seatbelt cut painfully into her collarbone as her car jerked to a halt inches from the Aston Martin's door. Arthur threw his door open and stormed out. His face was contorted with rage, his hands already pulling violently at his hair. He marched straight to Jett's driver-side window. Jett pressed the button, lowering the glass just enough to hear him. "What the hell did you say to my grandfather?!" Arthur screamed, slamming his palm against the roof of her car. Jett looked at him, her expression completely bored. "I told him the price of his freedom," Jett said coldly. "Something a puppet like you wouldn't understand, since you aren't even allowed in the boardroom." Arthur's face turned a violent shade of red. He raised his fist, looking like he wanted to punch straight through the glass. Jett calmly hit the central locking button. The heavy clunk of the locks engaging echoed in the tense air. She picked up her phone and tapped the screen, pointing to the small camera mounted on her dashboard. "The dashcam is live-streaming to a secure cloud server," Jett warned, her voice devoid of emotion. "Break the glass, and you will be in a holding cell before dinner." Arthur lowered his fist, his chest heaving as he struggled to contain his fury. He reached into his tailored jacket pocket. He pulled out a crisp, rectangular piece of paper. He shoved it through the narrow gap in the window, letting it flutter onto Jett's lap. "Five hundred million dollars," Arthur spat, jutting his chin out in a desperate attempt to look superior. "It is a cashier's check. An out-of-court settlement. Grandfather authorized me to end this. It is his final act of mercy. Take it and disappear." Jett looked down at the paper resting on her thigh. Five hundred million. She picked it up between two fingers, holding it up to the light as if inspecting a piece of trash. "This is not mercy," Jett laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "This is Richard trying to stop the bleeding before the quarterly earnings report exposes his incompetence." Jett's hands moved in a blur. She ripped the heavy bank check in half. Then into quarters. Then into tiny, jagged shreds. She rolled down the window completely. With a flick of her wrist, she threw the handful of shredded paper straight into Arthur's face. The pieces fluttered down, landing on his expensive suit and the wet asphalt. Arthur stumbled back, his eyes wide with absolute shock. His brain could not process that she had just destroyed a five hundred million dollar check in cash. "You people are a disease," Jett said, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper. "Greedy, arrogant, and pathetic." "You are going to lose everything!" Arthur roared, wiping a piece of paper from his cheek. "Our lawyers will drag this out for a decade! You will go bankrupt!" Jett leaned out the window, her eyes locking onto his. "Richard's heart is failing, Arthur," Jett said, her voice dripping with dark amusement. "He is wheezing like a dying dog. He won't survive the stress of a federal trial. He won't even make it to the next earnings call." Arthur's face went completely white. Hearing her curse his grandfather's life snapped the last thread of his control. He let out a guttural scream and lunged toward the car, raising both fists. Jett slammed her foot onto the accelerator. The sports car's engine shrieked. The car shot forward, the bumper grazing Arthur's leg and forcing him to dive backward onto the wet grass to avoid being crushed. Jett did not slow down. She swerved around his blocking car and sped down the driveway. In her rearview mirror, she saw Arthur sitting in the mud, covered in shredded paper, pulling at his hair. Arthur scrambled for his phone with shaking hands. He dialed Serena. "She is insane!" Arthur yelled the moment Serena answered. "She tore up the check! She is going to federal court!" On the other end of the line, Serena's breath hitched. Federal court meant discovery. It meant Jett actually had the evidence. "Arthur, listen to me," Serena said, her voice tight with panic. "We need to hire the most ruthless lawyer in Manhattan right now." Jett pulled her car onto the West Side Highway, the Hudson River stretching out dark and violent beside her. She pulled over onto the shoulder and put the car in park. Her hands were shaking slightly-not from fear, but from the massive adrenaline dump. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the matte-black card Harrison had given her. She stared at the encrypted numbers. It was time to make the call.