The Betrayed Wife's Ruthless Comeback

Elena stood on the top step of the cathedral portico.

The wind whipped the rain sideways, soaking the hem of her black dress, pasting the fabric to her freezing skin. She didn't shiver. She just stared at the taillights of the black Maybach as it disappeared into the violent storm.

Sloane popped open a large black umbrella and held it over Elena's head. Sloane's hands were shaking with rage.

"He is a monster," Sloane cried, her voice cracking. "An absolute, irredeemable bastard."

Elena didn't cry. Her face was a mask of chilling calm. She raised a freezing hand and wiped the rainwater from her cheek.

She turned her head to look at Sloane.

"Sloane," Elena said, her voice raspy but entirely steady. "I need the best divorce lawyer in the city."

Sloane blinked, stunned for a fraction of a second. Then, a fierce, predatory gleam lit up her tear-filled eyes. She shoved her hand into her Birkin bag and dug around frantically.

She pulled out a thick, matte-black business card with gold foil lettering. She pressed it firmly into Elena's palm.

"Camilla Adler," Sloane said. "She's the most ruthless shark in Manhattan. She will skin him alive."

Elena closed her fist around the card. She squeezed it until the sharp, heavy cardstock dug into her skin, welcoming the sting. It kept her awake. It kept her focused.

A pre-booked black Lincoln Town Car pulled up to the curb. The driver stepped out into the rain and opened the rear door.

Sloane moved to get in, but Elena gently touched her arm.

"No," Elena said softly. "I need to do this alone right now. Thank you, Sloane."

Elena slid into the backseat. The heavy door slammed shut, instantly cutting off the roar of the storm and the chaos of the city. The silence inside the car was deafening.

She leaned her head back against the cold leather seat and closed her eyes.

Instantly, the image of her father flashed behind her eyelids. The tubes down his throat. The agonizing beep of the monitors. His chest struggling for air.

Then, the image shifted. It was Cooper's broad back, carrying Celeste out of the church, leaving her alone with a corpse.

The two images collided in her mind, sparking a fire in her gut that burned away the last remnants of her grief.

Elena's eyes snapped open. The vulnerability was gone. Only cold, calculating ice remained.

She pulled out her phone and dialed the private number on the black card.

It rang three times.

"Adler," a sharp, no-nonsense female voice answered.

"My name is Elena Brooks," Elena said, stripping away her married name without a second thought. "I want to leave Cooper Mitchell with absolutely nothing."

A low, dry chuckle echoed through the receiver.

"Bring every financial document you can get your hands on to my office tomorrow at 9 AM, Ms. Brooks," Camilla said. The line went dead.

The Lincoln pulled through the massive, wrought-iron gates of the Mitchell estate.

Elena stared out the window at the sprawling, multi-million-dollar mansion. It had been her gilded cage for three years. Her lips curled into a bitter sneer.

The car stopped. Elena stepped out, her heels clicking against the wet pavement as she walked through the grand double doors.

Martha Olsen, the head housekeeper, rushed into the foyer. Her eyes widened at Elena's soaked dress.

"Mrs. Mitchell! Where is Mr. Mitchell?" Martha asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

"He's busy taking care of someone else," Elena said flatly. "Bring a pot of hot tea to my room, Martha."

Elena didn't wait for a response. She walked up the sweeping grand staircase and pushed open the heavy mahogany doors to the master suite.

The room smelled like him. The faint, masculine scent of Tom Ford cologne clung to the air, making her stomach churn.

She walked straight into his massive walk-in closet. She bypassed the designer dresses and pulled down an old, battered suitcase from the top shelf-the one she used to use for her art supplies.

She didn't pack clothes. She walked to the hidden wall safe behind the mirror. She punched in the code.

The heavy steel door clicked open.

Elena reached inside, pulling out the thick stacks of folders. She started flipping through them.

Her hands stopped.

The deeds to the Hamptons estate and the Tribeca penthouse were gone. The documents for his primary trust fund were missing.

Elena's breathing hitched. He had already moved them. Cooper had been preparing for this. He was already hiding his assets.

She let out a dark, humorless laugh. She pulled out her phone and took high-resolution photos of the few minor subsidiary documents left behind.

She placed everything back exactly as she found it and locked the safe.

Elena walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. She stared out at the torrential rain battering the manicured lawns.

He thought she was stupid. He thought she was weak.

She was going to take everything.