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The Billionaire's Genius Wife's Ultimate Cold Revenge Novel Cover

The Billionaire's Genius Wife's Ultimate Cold Revenge

My five-year-old daughter was turning blue in my arms, her body rigid with a 104-degree fever. I called my billionaire husband, Clifton, dozens of times as I rushed to the hospital, but he declined every single call. While I was screaming at doctors and fighting to save our child’s life, a news alert flashed on my phone. Clifton was at the Met Gala, looking devastatingly handsome as he intimately draped his tuxedo jacket over the shoulders of his mistress, Eleanora. The nightmare didn't end at the hospital. Clifton used a secret clause in our prenup to snatch Lily from her bed and move her to a private facility without my consent. When I finally found her, my own daughter shrank away from me in terror. "Go away, bad Mommy!" she sobbed, while the mistress fed her oatmeal and whispered that I was the one who made the doctors hurt her. Clifton stood by and watched, telling me I was too "hysterical" to be a mother. But then I discovered the real reason they were hiding her. My husband was illegally using my late mother’s rare bone marrow samples to treat Eleanora’s secret blood disorder. Now that those samples are failing, he is taking Lily to a secluded castle in Germany to harvest our daughter’s marrow for his mistress. I sat in the dark, watching them play happy family with the child they plan to sacrifice. I realized then that my marriage wasn't just a lie—it was a biological harvest. They think I’m just a broken trophy wife who doesn't understand the science they are using to destroy me. They have no idea that I am "Ghost," the anonymous medical genius behind the very research they are trying to steal. As we board the private jet to Germany, I’ve stopped crying and started calculating. If they want to play with life and death, I’ll show them exactly what happens when a mother stops being a victim and starts being a predator.
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Chapter 9

The Teterboro tarmac was windy.

The Wilder corporate jet, a sleek Gulfstream G650, gleamed in the sun.

Emelie held Lily's hand tightly. Her grip was iron.

"Mommy, you're hurting me," Lily complained.

"Sorry, baby," Emelie loosened her grip, but didn't let go.

Eleanora was already at the stairs. She was wearing a white Chanel suit and oversized sunglasses. She looked like she was going on a honeymoon.

She saw Emelie and frowned.

"Oh," Eleanora said. "Clifton said you weren't coming."

"Clifton was wrong," Emelie said, brushing past her.

They boarded.

The cabin was luxurious, with cream leather seats.

Eleanora sat in the main facing seat. Clifton sat next to her.

Emelie took the seat across the aisle, pulling Lily into her lap.

"Can I sit with Daddy?" Lily asked.

"No," Emelie said firmly. "You stay with me."

The plane took off.

As they reached cruising altitude, the pressure changed.

Lily started to cry. "My ears! Mommy, my ears hurt!"

Clifton looked up from his iPad, annoyed. "Can you keep her quiet? Eleanora has a headache."

Eleanora rubbed her temples dramatically. "It's fine, Clifton. Poor thing."

She reached into her purse and pulled out a lollipop. "Here, sweetie. The sugar helps."

Emelie slapped the lollipop out of her hand. It landed on the carpet.

"She doesn't need sugar," Emelie snapped.

She turned Lily's head to the side. She remembered the integrative medicine techniques her father had researched for pediatric pain relief. She found the pressure point behind the earlobe-the Yifeng point. She pressed firmly and massaged in a circular motion. Then she massaged the Eustachian tube down the neck.

"Swallow, baby," Emelie whispered.

Lily swallowed. Her eyes widened. "It popped!"

"Better?"

"Yeah!" Lily smiled. She snuggled into Emelie's chest and closed her eyes.

Clifton watched the whole thing. He looked stunned.

"Where did you learn that?" he asked.

"I read my father's journals," Emelie said coldly. "He knew more than just immunology."

She put on her noise-canceling headphones.

She opened her Kindle. But she wasn't reading a book. She had hacked the Kindle to display PDFs.

She was reading the latest paper on Graft-versus-Host Disease in Pediatric Donors.

Clifton glanced over. He saw dense text, charts, graphs.

He squinted. "What are you reading?"

"A thriller," Emelie said, turning the page. "About a husband who tries to kill his wife."

Clifton looked away, uncomfortable.

Turbulence hit. The plane dropped ten feet.

Eleanora gasped and grabbed Clifton's hand. "Clifton!"

Clifton covered her hand with his, murmuring reassurances.

Emelie watched them.

She felt nothing. No jealousy. No pain.

Only target acquisition.

She looked at Lily, sleeping peacefully.

I will destroy you both, she thought. And I will use your own science to do it.

The pilot's voice came over the intercom. "Preparing for landing in Baden-Baden."

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