The Vengeful Ex-Wife's High Society Comeback

The black stretch Lincoln pulled away from the curb, leaving the flashing cameras and the suffocating noise of the penthouse party behind.

Inside the cabin, the lighting was dim. The soundproof glass partition separating them from the driver slid up with a soft hum. The world was instantly cut off.

Corinne slumped back against the plush leather seat. She let out a long, heavy exhale. The fragile, terrified persona melted off her skin like wax.

She kicked the shoes off, letting them hit the floorboard. She pulled her knees up, aggressively rubbing her reddened ankles. There was no grace in the movement, just raw, physical relief.

Justus reached into the mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of ice water. He handed it to her, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her discard her elegant facade.

Corinne snatched the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and downed half the water in one go. The freezing liquid hit her stomach, extinguishing the adrenaline fire that had been burning since the terrace.

Justus tapped the screen built into the console. The display lit up, showing real-time Twitter trends.

"Corinne Maxwell" and "Justus Wilson's new weapon" were already dominating the top trending spots.

"That throw on the terrace," Justus said, leaning back. "That was the most expensive piece of theater I've seen all year."

Corinne wiped a drop of water from her chin. She let out a dark, humorless laugh. "That was just the interest. I'm here for the principal. And I'm taking it all."

Justus raised his glass of scotch. Corinne tapped her water bottle against it. The glass and plastic clinked-a hollow sound sealing a very dark contract.

"So," Justus murmured, taking a sip. "Are you really going to keep poking the bear? Corwin is going to retaliate."

Corinne's eyes sharpened into daggers. She picked up her phone, unlocked it, and swiped to a PDF document. She tossed the phone onto Justus's lap.

It was a highly classified short-selling report targeting the Pierce family's primary hedge fund. Evelina's money.

Justus scanned the document. His eyebrows shot up. He looked at Corinne, genuinely surprised. He knew she had connections, but this required deep, entrenched Wall Street power. The depth of this woman's resources was staggering.

"Tonight was just to let them know I'm breathing the same air," Corinne said coldly. "Tomorrow, I start bleeding their accounts."

"Wall Street is already buzzing about you," Justus confirmed, handing the phone back. "My job here is done. The stage is yours. I'm not getting caught in the crossfire when Corwin realizes what you're doing."

Corinne nodded. She knew Justus was just using her to humiliate Corwin. The real war was hers alone to fight.

The Lincoln glided past Central Park. Corinne's head snapped toward the window. Her eyes locked onto a towering luxury high-rise piercing the night sky.

It was the penthouse. The place she used to call home. The place where Alex was born. The place where he died.

"Stop the car," Corinne ordered sharply.

The driver hit the brakes. The heavy car idled by the curb. Corinne pressed her face against the cold glass of the window. Her eyes greedily devoured the sight of the illuminated floor-to-ceiling windows on the top floor.

Justus watched her profile. The ruthless ambition vanished from her face. In its place was an ocean of raw, suffocating agony.

Corinne's index finger traced the outline of the balcony on the glass. The movement was agonizingly tender, as if she were stroking a child's cheek.

"I'm going back in there," Corinne whispered to the glass. "That's my sanctuary. And it's going to be my battlefield."

"That building is Corwin's fortress now," Justus warned quietly. "He doesn't let anyone in. You step foot in there, it's suicide."

Corinne slowly pulled her hand away from the window. She turned to look at Justus. The grief in her eyes hardened into solid steel.

"Then I'll walk through hell to get the keys."

She pressed the intercom button. "Drive. Take us to Long Island."

The car accelerated, heading away from the glittering lights of Manhattan, plunging toward the dark, quiet expanse of Long Island.

Corinne closed her eyes. Her mind was instantly flooded with the sound of Alex's laughter, followed immediately by the image of his small, lifeless body.

Justus looked at her fists, clenched so tightly the veins in her wrists were bulging. He quietly reached over and turned down the cabin temperature, letting the silence swallow them whole.

Outside, the city faded into darkness. Inside, the fire of revenge burned hotter than ever.