The Unwanted Ex-Wife Is A Genius Hacker

Alyse pushed open the heavy glass doors of Le Bernardin. The biting cold wind of the Manhattan winter was instantly shut out, replaced by the warm, expensive scent of truffles and aged wine. Four-year-old Nora tugged at the hem of Alyse's trench coat. The little girl looked around with wide eyes, her golden curls catching the light from the massive crystal chandeliers above. "Shh," Alyse whispered, her tone gentle but firm. Nora nodded obediently, her small hand gripping the fabric tighter. The maitre d' stepped forward, his eyes scanning Alyse's simple coat. He opened his mouth, clearly preparing a polite refusal for walking in without a reservation. Alyse didn't wait for him to speak. She reached into her pocket and slid a solid black private card across the polished reception desk. The maitre d's expression shifted instantly. The polite dismissal vanished, replaced by a deep, practiced bow. He gestured toward the dining room with absolute reverence. They were led to a secluded semi-private booth, shielded from the main dining area by frosted glass partitions. Across the room, sitting in a plush leather booth, Zane Coulter aimlessly stirred his martini. His eyes drifted over the crowded room, bored by the usual Wall Street crowd. Then, a familiar profile caught his attention. Zane's hand jerked. The martini sloshed over the rim, the cold liquid spilling onto his custom-tailored suit. He narrowed his eyes, leaning forward. The woman walking toward the back booth was wearing a simple coat, her aura freezing cold. It was Alyse Ellis. The same Alyse who had vanished five years ago. His heart slammed against his ribs. Zane pulled his phone from his pocket, his hands shaking. He aimed the camera toward the semi-private booth and rapidly tapped the shutter button. He forgot to turn off the flash. A faint white light pulsed through the room. Alyse stopped walking. Her head snapped toward the source of the light, her eyes narrowing into sharp slits. Zane threw himself backward, pressing his spine hard against the leather sofa. His breath hitched in his throat. He waited a full ten seconds before exhaling, realizing she hadn't spotted him. Alyse frowned. She scanned the dining room, finding nothing but wealthy patrons eating their seafood. Her face remained expressionless as she stepped into the blind spot of the booth, pulling Nora out of sight. Zane opened the photo gallery on his phone and zoomed in. His stomach dropped. It wasn't just Alyse. Standing right beside her, holding her coat, was a little girl. She looked about four or five years old. His fingers trembled as he selected Godfrey's contact. He attached the photo and typed out a message. You are never going to believe who I just saw in New York. He hit send. High above Wall Street, inside the penthouse office of the Hammond Building, Godfrey stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights reflected in his cold, empty eyes. His phone buzzed against the mahogany desk, shattering the dead silence of the room. His assistant, Alex, stood near the door, carefully watching his boss. Godfrey turned away from the window. He walked to the desk, picked up the phone, and unlocked the screen. His pupils contracted violently. The woman in the photo was the woman he had hated for five years. The woman he had searched for until his sanity frayed. And she was sitting in a restaurant less than three miles away. Godfrey's breathing turned ragged. His fingers gripped the edges of the phone so hard his knuckles turned completely white. Then, his eyes dragged downward. He saw the little blonde girl standing next to her. A deafening roar exploded in his brain. It felt as if a sledgehammer had just smashed directly into his chest. His lungs stopped working. The memory of that humiliating divorce agreement flashed behind his eyes. He saw Alyse standing in the courtroom, her face completely blank, admitting to her betrayal. The memory sliced through his nerves like a serrated blade. Godfrey's arm shot out. He swept the heavy crystal paperweight off the desk. It hit the floor with a violent crash, glass shattering across the expensive rug. Alex jumped backward, his face draining of color. Godfrey dialed Zane's number. He ground his teeth together, his voice coming out as a terrifying, gravelly rasp. "Where." Zane swallowed hard on the other end of the line. He gave the name of the restaurant, his voice shaking as he mentioned the little girl. Godfrey ended the call. He didn't say another word. He grabbed his dark wool coat from the sofa and marched toward his private elevator. "Sir, the international board meeting-" Alex started, taking a step forward. Godfrey shot him a look so lethal it nailed Alex to the floor. The assistant snapped his mouth shut. The elevator doors slid closed. The polished metal reflected Godfrey's bloodshot eyes. The rage he had suffocated for five years was finally breaking free. Back inside Le Bernardin, Nora poked at her dessert with a tiny silver fork. "Mommy," she said, her voice soft and sweet. "When do we get to see Uncle Guthrie?" Alyse smiled, her hand gently stroking her daughter's hair. But her eyes were fixed on the busy New York streets outside the window. Her gaze was as sharp as a scalpel. Her phone vibrated on the table. She glanced at the screen. A decrypted message appeared. Target has received the signal. He is on his way. A cold, calculated smile touched the corners of Alyse's mouth. She picked up her water glass and took a slow sip. The revenge game, delayed for five long years, had officially begun.