The Unwanted Wife And Her Ruthless Revenge

Emilia POV:

I walked out of the hospital, got in my car, and drove straight to the nearest police precinct.

Inside, the air smelled of stale coffee and bureaucracy. An officer named Davis listened to my story with a practiced look of sympathy on his face.

I laid it all out, my voice flat and controlled. I accused Sophie of intentionally causing the emotional distress that led to my grandmother's death.

"Ms. Hayes, I'm very sorry for your loss," he said, clicking his pen. "But words, even cruel ones, are very difficult to prosecute as manslaughter or murder."

"There was a witness," I insisted. "A nurse. And there are security cameras in the hallway."

He nodded, making a note. "We'll look into it. Leave us your contact information, and we'll be in touch if there's an update." He handed me a business card.

I walked out of the station into the blinding afternoon sun. I knew this was just a formality.

I drove to the penthouse apartment that was, in name only, our home. The housekeeper, Mrs. Finch, met me at the door, her eyes full of pity.

"Ma'am, I am so sorry..." she began.

I just shook my head and walked past her, heading straight for the study.

Blake was there, sitting behind his massive mahogany desk. He was still in yesterday's suit, setting down his mobile phone as I entered. He looked at me with a blank expression as if he'd been waiting.

I slapped Officer Davis's business card down on the desk. "I've filed a police report."

Blake didn't even raise an eyebrow. “The precinct commander calls me the moment a Sterling enters their doors,” he said coldly. "I've handled it."

A cold dread washed over me. "Handled it? What does that mean?"

He picked up the phone on his desk, dialed a number, and put it on speaker. "Officer Davis, Blake here. Regarding my wife's report from earlier..."

The respectful, almost fawning voice of the same officer came through the speaker. "Mr. Sterling, not to worry. We checked the hospital's security footage. Unfortunately, the camera outside your grandmother-in-law's room happened to have a malfunction late last night."

My blood ran cold. A "malfunction." How convenient.

"And as for the nurse," Blake continued, his icy blue eyes locked on mine, "I believe she may be reconsidering the accuracy of her statement."

"You threatened her?" I whispered, horrified.

"I merely reminded her that in this city, saying the wrong thing can be very costly," he said, as if discussing the weather.

A wave of fury washed over me. I lunged across the desk, my hand raised to slap his arrogant face, but he caught my wrist in a grip of steel. His strength was terrifying.

"Emilia, don't act like a lunatic," he said, his brow furrowed in disgust.

Just then, the study door opened.

Sophie walked in, wearing one of Blake's white button-down shirts. Her hair was damp, and a smug, triumphant smile played on her lips.

"Blake, honey, I can't find the hair dryer..." Her voice was sweet as poison. She feigned surprise when she saw me, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, Emilia. You're here. I'm so, so sorry to hear about your grandmother."

She was wearing my husband's shirt. In my home. Apologizing for a death she caused.

It was the sickest joke I'd ever heard.

I wrenched my wrist from Blake's grasp, my gaze slicing across Sophie's face.

"Get out of my house," I said, my voice dangerously low.

Sophie immediately shrank behind Blake, her shoulders trembling. "Blake, she's scaring me..."

He moved to shield her, positioning his body between us. "Emilia, that's enough. Sophie is my guest."

"A guest?" I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. "A guest who spends the night and wears the host's clothes?"

Blake's face darkened. "I'm telling you again, this ends now. Sophie is innocent, and I will not have you harassing her."

"Innocent?" I pointed a shaking finger at her. "She's a murderer! And you, Blake, you're her accomplice!"

A flash of impatience crossed his eyes. He reached into a drawer, pulled out a document, and tossed it on the desk in front of me.

It was a contract. A termination addendum to our prenuptial agreement.

"You should calm down and think about how to end this with some dignity," he said, his voice a final, chilling verdict. "Instead of acting like a madwoman."