The Jilted Bride's Billion Dollar Revenge

Katrina sat in the dark. The only light in the room came from the glowing screen of her phone.

Suddenly, heavy, dragging footsteps echoed in the hallway outside her door.

She didn't need to press her ear to the wall to know what was happening. Before the wedding, during the integration of their personal security protocols, she had demanded administrative access to Coleton's devices. He had agreed, thinking it was just corporate standard procedure.

Katrina opened the hidden security app on her phone and activated the ambient microphone on Coleton's device next door.

Through her phone's speaker, she heard the door next door being shoved open.

"Get in there," Rocco's gruff voice growled.

Katrina heard a heavy thud through the audio feed as a body was thrown onto the mattress. A sharp, agonizing groan followed.

"Good luck," Rocco muttered. The door slammed shut.

The digital transmission was crystal clear. Katrina could hear every ragged breath.

Coleton shifted on the bed. The sound of the sheets rustling was accompanied by his sharp intakes of breath. He was in agonizing pain.

Then, a phone buzzed.

It vibrated against the nightstand next door. Katrina could hear Coleton fumbling for it.

"Hello?" he rasped. His voice was weak and trembling.

"Coleton!" Hana's hysterical crying immediately transmitted clearly through Katrina's phone speaker. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know calling you would ruin everything!"

Katrina closed her eyes, disgusted by the fake tears.

Coleton took a shaky breath. "It's... it's not your fault, Hana."

"I need to see you," Hana begged. "Let me bring Leo. Let me take care of you."

"No!" Coleton's voice suddenly spiked with sheer panic. "You can't come here! The press is outside!"

"Are you abandoning us because you're scared of that bitch?" Hana cried.

"I'm not scared of her!" Coleton yelled. His voice cracked, revealing the pathetic, terrified boy underneath the expensive suits. "I'm scared of my grandfather! He... he told me... Coen!" Coleton sobbed, gasping for air between words. "He's bringing Coen in!"

Katrina's eyes opened wide.

"If I lose her... the trust fund..." Coleton groaned in agony, his breathing ragged. "The company... he'll take it all! I'll have... I'll have nothing, Hana! Nothing!"

He was crying over his bank account.

"You have to stay away from me," Coleton ordered, his voice turning cruel. "Don't call me. If she finds out, I'm dead."

Katrina tapped the screen, cutting the audio feed. A wave of intense, physical nausea hit her stomach. She felt like she was going to throw up.

She had thought, just for a second, that his hesitation earlier was out of guilt. But it wasn't. He didn't care about his vows. He didn't even care about Hana.

He was a coward. His entire existence was driven by the fear of losing his allowance.

Next door, Coleton hung up the phone. He punched the mattress, screaming a string of vile curses directed at Katrina.

Katrina's lips curled into a sneer of absolute contempt.

"You haven't seen anything yet," she whispered to the empty room.

She walked over to the vintage writing desk and flipped open her laptop. The blue light illuminated her cold, determined face.

She opened her encrypted email client. She typed in the address of the most ruthless, high-profile divorce litigator in Manhattan.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She didn't write an emotional plea. She wrote a tactical battle plan. She attached the audio recording. She detailed the offshore accounts.

She was going to skin Coleton alive and burn this fake alliance to the ground.