The Betrayed Heiress And Her Genius Comeback

The hospital room was dark.

Sloane Adler slipped through the door, followed by a tall man in a tailored gray suit holding a leather briefcase.

The man took off his wire-rimmed glasses. "Mrs. Cline. I'm Julian Cromwell."

Julian opened his briefcase. He pulled out a thick stack of financial disclosures and handed them to Bridget.

"If we file for divorce now, citing infidelity with evidence, we can secure fifty percent of his post-marital assets," Julian said, his voice a calm, clinical monotone.

Bridget flipped through the pages. She tossed the stack back onto the rolling table.

"Fifty percent is a joke," Bridget said, her voice dead. "I want him bankrupt."

Sloane gasped, covering her mouth. "Bridget, if Cline Medical goes public next month, his net worth will hit ten billion."

Bridget looked at Julian. "Cline Medical's core anti-aging algorithm has a fatal patent flaw. I know exactly where it is."

Julian's eyes sharpened. The lawyer in him smelled blood. "If we detonate a commercial fraud scandal on the morning of the IPO, the SEC will halt trading immediately."

"Exactly," Bridget said. "We play the happy couple. We gather the documents. We wait for the bell to ring."

Sloane pulled out her phone. "Speaking of playing the couple... look at this."

She handed the phone to Bridget. It was a Page Six article. A photo showed Jayson at a Sotheby's auction two nights ago, holding up a velvet box containing a massive pink diamond necklace.

"He paid fifteen million for 'Pink Tears,'" Sloane said. "The press thinks it's your anniversary surprise."

Bridget stared at the pink stone. Golda's neck had been bare at the Hamptons.

This was Golda's collar.

Bridget handed the phone back. "Julian, we start the retaliation tonight. With that necklace."

After they left, Bridget pressed the call button. She demanded the nurse use the hospital landline to call Jayson.

Thirty minutes later, the door flew open. Jayson stormed in, smelling of expensive scotch.

"What is it now?" he snapped.

Bridget sat up. She crossed her arms and glared at him with the petulant fury of a spoiled child. "Where is my pink diamond from Sotheby's?"

Jayson froze. His hand twitched toward his cuff. "It's... it's in Switzerland. Getting a final polish."

Bridget grabbed the heavy glass vase full of lilies from the nightstand with her uninjured left hand. She hurled it at the floor.

It shattered into a hundred pieces right at Jayson's feet. Water and flowers splashed onto his leather shoes.

"Don't lie to me!" Bridget screamed, her voice shrill. "If I don't have that necklace in my hands tonight, I will call my father tomorrow morning and tell him to pull his proxy votes from your board!"

Jayson's face drained of color. The board votes were the only thing keeping him in the CEO chair before the IPO.

"You are a psychotic bitch," Jayson hissed through his teeth.

Bridget lifted her chin, daring him to refuse.

Jayson pulled out his phone. He walked out into the hallway. Through the glass, Bridget watched him pacing, speaking frantically into the receiver, clearly begging Golda to give it back.

An hour later, Dex walked into the room, carefully stepping over the mess of shattered glass, water, and crushed lilies a nurse hadn't yet had time to clean. He was sweating through his shirt. He carried a heavy Sotheby's lockbox.

He set it on the bed and punched in the code. The lid popped open. The pink diamond caught the harsh hospital light, glittering violently.

Bridget picked it up by the chain. She dangled it in the air, looking at it with utter disgust.

"The color is tacky," Bridget sneered, looking right at Jayson. "It barely belongs on a dog."

Jayson's hands balled into fists. The veins in his neck bulged, but he swallowed his rage and turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him.

Bridget dropped the fifteen-million-dollar necklace into the plastic bedside drawer and shoved it shut.