I Quit Being a Trophy Wife to Reclaim My Empire

Elara sat in the back of a cab, her body trembling. The adrenaline dump left her feeling cold and nauseous.

Her phone buzzed.

Julian: I'm sorry about that. Are you okay?

Elara typed back with shaking fingers.

Elara: I'm fine. Thank you. For... everything.

Julian: Lease is in your email. Digital sign is fine. Key is with the super.

She closed her eyes. She had a home.

Ethan stormed back to his office. He kicked the door shut.

"Get Carter in here!" he screamed.

His assistant—a new one, since he fired the last one—scurried away.

Carter entered, looking wary. "Ethan, man, there's a video..."

"I don't care about the video!" Ethan paced, rubbing his bruised ego. "Who is that guy? That doctor. Find out everything."

Carter sighed. He pulled up a file on his tablet. "I already checked. Dr. Julian Vance. He's a tenured professor at Columbia Medical and the lead surgeon in Neuro-Trauma. He brings in more grant money than God. And yes, he's Elara's cousin's brother."

Ethan screamed in frustration and swept a Ming vase off the console table. It shattered into a thousand pieces.

"He humiliated me," Ethan seethed. "He stood up for her."

"Maybe you should let it go," Carter suggested softly. "The optics are bad, Ethan. #ToxicEthan trending."

"I am not toxic!" Ethan roared. "I am her husband!"

"Ex-husband," Carter corrected.

Ethan glared at him. "Not yet."

Elara arrived at the apartment in Queens. It was on the third floor of a brick walk-up. She unlocked the door.

It was small. A studio with a kitchenette. The floor was hardwood, scratched but clean. There was a single window that looked out over a fire escape, but if she craned her neck, she could see the Manhattan skyline in the distance.

It was empty. Dusty.

She dropped her bag on the floor.

"It's mine," she whispered.

She didn't have furniture. She sat on her coat in the middle of the room. She opened her laptop and signed the lease. She transferred the deposit from her crypto wallet.

Balance: $12,400.

It was tight. But she had a job starting tomorrow.

Ethan sat in his office, watching the video on repeat. He watched Julian step between him and Elara. He watched Elara walk away.

He zoomed in on her face. She didn't look back. Not once.

Serena saw the video on TikTok. She was sitting in her dorm room, painting her nails.

She watched Ethan grab Elara's arm. She watched the intensity in his eyes.

"He's obsessed," she realized. "He doesn't care about me. He just wants to win her back."

She couldn't let that happen. She needed the Sterling name. She needed the money.

She picked up her phone. She messed up her hair. She pinched her cheeks until they were red.

She dialed Ethan. She forced a sob into her voice.

"Ethan?" she cried. "Ethan, please pick up!"

Ethan answered, sounding weary. "What is it, Serena?"

"I think someone is following me!" she lied. "There's a black car outside my dorm. I'm scared, Ethan. After what happened with Elara... I'm scared she sent someone!"

Ethan sat up. He felt a wave of annoyance. Elara wouldn't send anyone. But the press might. And if Serena got hurt on his watch, the PR nightmare would be catastrophic.

He rubbed his temples. He didn't love Serena. He barely liked her right now. But he had a role to play. The protector. The hero.

"Stay there," he said, his voice flat. "I'm coming."

He grabbed his jacket. He needed a distraction. He needed to be the hero again.