The Unwanted Wife's Secret Comeback

The electronic lock on the penthouse door beeped. Before Audrey could even push the door open, Doris rushed past her into the hallway. "Oh, Miss Blake! Let me help you with that," Doris cooed, reaching out to take Blake's designer handbag. The sudden drop in temperature in the entryway was palpable. Audrey stood frozen on the welcome mat, completely ignored by the staff she paid. The physical isolation highlighted her status as an outsider in her own home. Audrey kicked off her stilettos. She tossed her heavy metal key ring onto the marble catch-all tray. The loud, sharp clatter echoed through the foyer, a harsh auditory demand for her existence to be acknowledged. Blake walked into the expansive living room. "Oh my god, the sofa cushions!" she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "They're Hermes orange. Dozier remembered it's my favorite color." Audrey looked at the living room. Her carefully curated, cool-toned minimalist space was now ruined by the jarring, bright orange pillows scattered across the couches. A wave of nausea hit her stomach. Her territory had been violently invaded. Doris hurried out of the kitchen carrying a steaming porcelain bowl on a silver tray. "I simmered this bone broth for six hours just for you, Miss Blake." Doris set the tray down in front of Blake. There was no glass of water, no cup of tea, absolutely nothing prepared for Audrey. The workplace bullying was laid bare in the empty space on the coffee table. Audrey turned on her heel and walked straight into the kitchen. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and shoved it under the refrigerator's ice dispenser. The crushed ice rattled loudly into the glass. She refused to let her shoulders slump. She kept her spine rigid, wrapping herself in a thick layer of apathy. Footsteps padded into the kitchen. Blake stood in the doorway, wringing her hands. "Audrey, I'm so sorry. I really don't want to ruin your two-person world with Dozier." The sickly-sweet, fake apology made the bile rise in Audrey's throat. Audrey took a slow sip of the freezing water. The ice numbed her tongue. She lowered the glass and stared dead into Blake's eyes. "Then you better keep your word." She ripped away the polite facade. Blake's fake smile froze, her facial muscles twitching as she struggled to maintain the innocent act. A soft chime echoed through the penthouse. The private elevator doors slid open in the foyer. Dozier had arrived. The power dynamic in the room instantly shifted. Blake's eyes instantly filled with unshed tears. She turned and walked out of the kitchen. Dozier strode into the living room, his tall frame dominating the space. His eyes locked onto Blake immediately, completely bypassing the kitchen where Audrey stood. Blake walked toward him, her steps slow and hesitant, like a frightened deer. The vulnerability was a masterclass in manipulation. Dozier's hard expression softened. "Are you settling in okay?" he asked, his voice low. He reached out and gently tucked a stray blonde curl behind Blake's ear. The intimate, tender gesture felt like a long needle piercing straight through Audrey's eyeballs. Audrey gripped her water glass tightly and walked out of the kitchen. Her bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor, intentionally loud. She walked right between them, physically breaking their magnetic pull. Dozier turned his head. The warmth in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a wall of glacial ice. The whiplash of his double standard tore at Audrey's chest. Ten minutes later, they sat at the long dining table. Doris brought out the first course. It was a classic French menu, entirely tailored to Blake's tastes. Audrey stared down at the bowl placed in front of her. The rich, pink liquid was lobster bisque. Her throat tightened in a phantom allergic reaction. Doris knew perfectly well that Audrey had a severe, life-threatening seafood allergy. Audrey gripped the heavy silver spoon, her knuckles turning white. Dozier didn't notice a thing. He leaned over and used his own knife to cut Blake's filet mignon into bite-sized pieces. The blatant favoritism killed whatever appetite Audrey had left. Her stomach rolled. Audrey pushed the soup bowl away. The porcelain scraped harshly against the wood. She stood up. "I've lost my appetite." She turned to leave the suffocating room. "Sit down," Dozier barked. His voice cracked like a whip. "Stop throwing a tantrum and ruining dinner." He dumped all the blame squarely onto her shoulders. A hot spark of rebellion ignited in Audrey's chest. Audrey let out a dry, humorless laugh. She pointed a shaking finger at the bowl. "That is lobster bisque. I am deathly allergic to shellfish. If I eat that, my throat will close up in three minutes." The truth hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. The dining room plunged into a dead, uncomfortable silence. "I... I thought the new sous-chef prepared the chicken velouté for you, Madam!" Doris stammered, her face draining of color as she forcefully played the fool to cover her tracks. "I must have grabbed the wrong bowl in the rush, I am so incredibly sorry!" Dozier's jaw clenched. He turned his head slowly and shot a lethal glare at Doris, who was trembling by the wall. A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it was quickly swallowed by the anger of having his authority challenged. Blake gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh no! Dozier, please don't be mad at Doris. It's my fault. I picked the menu and I forgot." She expertly shifted the focus, using her tears to extinguish Dozier's anger toward the staff. Audrey watched the pathetic display of loyalty. It was utterly ridiculous. She didn't say another word. She turned her back on them and walked up the stairs to the second floor, leaving the mess behind. She walked into the master bedroom, slammed the door shut, and threw the deadbolt. She collapsed face-first onto the massive bed. A crushing weight of exhaustion pressed down on her spine. She closed her eyes, praying for the oblivion of sleep. Hours later, in the dead of night, a metallic click echoed in the dark room. Audrey's eyes snapped open. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The doorknob rattled against the locked deadbolt. Then, the terrifying sound of a metal key sliding into the lock scraped through the silence. Her physical barrier was being breached. Panic seized her lungs. The door swung open. Dozier stepped into the room. The heavy scent of expensive scotch rolled off him. His massive shoulders blocked the ambient light from the hallway, casting him in deep shadow. Audrey scrambled backward on the mattress, pulling the heavy duvet up to her chin. "Get out." Her defensive tone was the worst thing she could have done. It triggered the primal need for control in the man standing before her. Dozier took a step toward the bed. Suddenly, the soft, muffled sound of footsteps padded down the carpeted hallway. The steps stopped right outside the open bedroom door. Audrey froze. Dozier stopped moving. Blake was standing right outside.