The Unwanted Wife Is A Zillionaire Heiress

The atmosphere inside the top-floor boardroom of Christian Corp was suffocating.

Colton Christian sat at the head of the massive mahogany table, his fingers drumming impatiently against the polished wood. Ten senior executives sat rigidly in their chairs, presenting the final logistics for the upcoming annual charity gala-an event on par with the Met Gala, crucial for the firm's public image.

Outside the glass walls of the boardroom, in the executive bullpen, Colton's chief assistant, Elliot Hayes, was staring at his dual monitors.

A notification popped up. An email marked with high-priority red flags had just arrived from Audrey Bishop's internal corporate account.

The subject line read: Immediate Resignation and Sponsorship Revocation.

Elliot frowned. He clicked the email open. His eyes scanned the text rapidly.

Within three seconds, all the blood drained from Elliot's face. His hands began to shake over the keyboard.

Audrey wasn't just resigning from her unpaid role as the head of the Christian Charity Foundation. The email explicitly stated that she was legally revoking the verbal agreements she had secured with the gala's three largest corporate sponsors-sponsors that accounted for forty percent of the event's funding.

Attached to the bottom of the email was an automated data-export receipt. It confirmed that Audrey had utilized her administrative access to legally export the entirety of the foundation's primary contact database to a secure, private offshore server. The email concluded with a chillingly formal declaration: "As I am no longer affiliated with Christian Corp, all proprietary relationships, sponsor contacts, and goodwill assets I personally cultivated will remain exclusively in my possession until our divorce settlement is finalized to my exact specifications."

Elliot grabbed the printed copy of the email off the tray. He didn't bother knocking. He shoved the heavy glass door of the boardroom open and practically ran inside.

Colton stopped mid-sentence. He glared at Elliot, his jaw tightening with fury at the interruption.

"What the hell are you doing, Elliot?" Colton snapped.

Elliot didn't speak. He was breathing too hard. He walked straight to the head of the table and slid the piece of paper in front of Colton.

Colton glanced at the subject line. A sneer curled his lip.

"She's throwing a tantrum," Colton muttered, waving his hand dismissively. "Ignore it. She's just trying to get my attention because I didn't go home last night."

"Sir," Elliot choked out, his voice trembling. "Look at the second paragraph. The sponsors."

Colton's eyes dropped down the page. He read the names of the three multinational conglomerates that had just pulled their funding.

His sneer vanished. His pupils dilated. He snatched the paper off the table, gripping it so hard the edges crumpled.

"Call her," Colton barked, his voice echoing off the glass walls.

He pulled his own cell phone from his pocket and dialed Audrey's number. He pressed the phone to his ear.

"We're sorry, the number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

Colton froze. The automated voice repeated the message. She hadn't just blocked him. She had killed the phone line entirely.

He slammed the phone down onto the mahogany table. The screen cracked.

"Call the house!" Colton roared at Elliot. "Call Rosa right now!"

Elliot scrambled for his phone and dialed the mansion. The executives around the table sat in terrified silence.

A minute later, Elliot lowered his phone. He looked at Colton, his eyes wide with panic.

"Sir," Elliot whispered. "Rosa says... she says Mrs. Christian left with a suitcase. And there is a divorce settlement on the kitchen counter. Along with her wedding ring."

Colton's chest heaved. A blinding, irrational rage exploded behind his eyes. He stood up so violently his heavy leather chair tipped backward and crashed to the floor. He slammed his fist into the table, the impact rattling the coffee cups.

Ten miles away, deep beneath the streets of the Financial District.

Audrey Bishop sat in a reinforced steel chair inside the Carlisle family's private subterranean vault. The air was cool and smelled of old paper and metal.

Ford Ortega stood beside her. He placed a thick stack of documents onto the steel table.

"This is the final transfer," Ford said, his voice echoing slightly in the vault. "Once you sign this, the thirty-billion-dollar trust is fully activated under your name. You will hold the controlling shares in Carlisle International."

Ford reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a heavy, custom-made solid gold Montblanc fountain pen. He unscrewed the cap and handed it to her.

Audrey took the pen. The gold was cold against her skin.

She looked down at the document. At the bottom, a line was printed: Sole Legal Heir of Julian Carlisle.

She pressed the nib to the paper and signed her name.

"It is done, Ms. Carlisle," Ford said.

Ford stepped back. He bowed his head slightly, a gesture of absolute respect and submission. "What is our next step, Miss Carlisle?" Ford asked, his voice echoing slightly in the vast, subterranean space.

Audrey set the pen down. She stood up and walked toward the thick, bulletproof glass wall that looked out into the secure underground garage, where a fleet of black SUVs waited for her command.

She crossed her arms over her chest. A slow, freezing smile touched the corners of her mouth, entirely devoid of the warmth she had once wasted on Colton Christian.

"First step," Audrey said, her voice ringing out with absolute, terrifying authority. "We acquire Christian Corp's biggest competitor. We bleed his stock dry, and we dismantle his legacy piece by piece." She turned her head, her eyes locking onto Ford's with the predatory gleam of a true Carlisle."