The Discarded Wife Is An Unstoppable Tycoon

In a dimly lit, nameless bar.

Eleanor slid off her thick, dark-framed glasses, and her eyes instantly lit up with a mischievous sparkle.

Her once-straight black hair now fell in loose, cascading waves around her shoulders, and her lips were painted a fierce crimson, curved into the hint of a smile.

From the tilt of her head to the casual grace of her gestures, she radiated a magnetic allure. She was the polar opposite of the drab, dull woman she had seemed to be at home.

"Hey, there's a shooting competition next week. Wanna go?" Jennifer asked.

Eleanor dismissed the idea without a second thought. "Nah, I haven't touched a gun in ages. My aim's probably shot."

"Who cares about a little rust? Think of it as blowing off some steam." Jennifer grinned. "Just picture the target is that total jackass, Damian, and light it up!"

Eleanor took a slow sip of her drink. "Now that's an idea."

"Right? And I heard Ace is going to be there—the guy who almost beat you four years ago. He's been the reigning champ ever since you quit. It would be epic to watch you show up," Jennifer said, her excitement growing. "Oh, and the prize? A one-of-a-kind, custom-built Bugatti. The only one in the world!"

She slid her phone across the table, the competition details already on the screen.

Eleanor skimmed the post. Beyond the lavish reward, one other detail stood out.

Every competitor wore a mask and competed under a code name. The champion earned the right to force the loser of the match to unmask.

"If you win, you have to make Ace take off his mask. I am dying to see the face of the man who almost took you down," Jennifer urged.

"Well." Eleanor swirled her wine, a slow, dangerous smile playing on her lips. "If I'm going, let's make it really interesting."

"How?" Jennifer leaned in, her curiosity obvious. Eleanor met her friend's gaze with a knowing look.

"Let's leak a rumor. The champion also gets one consultation with The Miracle Doctor. On The Miracle Doctor's terms, of course. No expiration date."

Jennifer's eyes widened. "A bombshell like that? People will be clawing their way into the competition! That's insane!"

"I'm going to the restroom." Eleanor rose, moving with effortless poise.

She had only taken a few steps when a group of men blocked her path.

"Hey there, gorgeous. Have a drink with us."

They leered, their eyes raking over her body. Eleanor's smile vanished, her expression turning to ice.

"Piss off," she said, her voice devoid of warmth.

"Feisty, huh? We like that. Nothing better than taming a wild one."

Her face completely blank, Eleanor said, "Get out of my way, unless you want to be put down."

The man in the lead just whistled, a smirk spreading across his face as he reached for her chest.

Her patience evaporated. In a blur of motion, her hand shot out, the edge of her palm connecting with his outstretched wrist with a sickening crack.

"Aaaagh!" he shrieked, clutching his broken hand.

"Why you—" Before his friends could finish the thought, a series of swift kicks sent them flying into nearby tables.

In a matter of seconds, they were all sprawled on the ground, groaning and unable to get back up.

Upstairs.

"Wow, check her out. She's gorgeous, and she's got moves. Totally my type," one of Damian's friends commented.

Damian glanced down at the woman with the wavy hair, a flicker of recognition nagging at him. The more he looked, the more familiar she seemed. It couldn't be—his ex-wife, Eleanor.

He was only here because Annabelle Taylor had suggested they stop for a drink after her doctor's appointment. He never expected to run into anyone he knew, let alone her.

"Is... is that Eleanor?" Annabelle asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

"Are you kidding? That mousy housewife? No way. That bombshell has way too much fire to be the same woman," his friend scoffed.

They all stared, trying to reconcile the image below with the woman they knew. But there was no denying it. The stunning, dangerous woman on the main floor was, impossibly, Damian's ex-wife. They were speechless.

Savannah Sutton, Damian's sister, sneered. "Look at her, dressed like a slut. What else do you expect? My brother just dumped her, and now she's trolling for a replacement. She has to sell her body to survive."

Her words were met with a chorus of sniggers.

"That's what they do. They can't live without a man."

"You were right to divorce her, man. A woman who dresses like that is just waiting to cheat."

"She's a leech. Without a man to cling to, she's nothing. Born to be a whore."

Their ridicule made Damian's blood boil. "Shut up," he snarled, his voice low and seething.

His glare cut them off. Without another word, he turned and headed in Eleanor's direction.