The Vengeful Ex-Wife's High Society Comeback

The heavy tires of the Lincoln crunched to a halt on the gravel road outside the Long Island cemetery. Justus didn't move to open his door. He stayed in the warmth of the car, gesturing for his two massive bodyguards to wait by the gates. Corinne pushed the door open herself. She popped a large black umbrella, stepping out into the freezing, torrential rain. Her heels sank instantly into the thick, freezing mud. She walked alone down the narrow, winding path. The rain battered against the nylon of her umbrella. The sound was deafening, like a million tiny, frantic whispers. She stopped in front of a minimalist, slate-gray headstone nestled under a weeping willow. This was where Alex lay. There was no photograph on the stone. No loving epitaph. Just his name and the dates. It was as cold and clinical as Corwin's heart. Corinne slowly crouched down. The hem of her expensive dress dragged in the wet dirt. She reached out with a trembling hand. Her index finger traced the carved letters of his name, wiping away the splattered mud. Her skin pressed against the freezing stone. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to feel a phantom warmth that wasn't there. She didn't cry. Her tear ducts felt burned out. She just stared at the grave with hollow, dead eyes. Her brain violently replayed that afternoon six years ago. The echo of Alex's giggles. Evelina's sudden, piercing scream. The back of the strange nanny rushing down the hallway with a bundle in her arms. Corinne reached into the deep pocket of her coat. She pulled out a small, slightly worn plush rabbit. She set it gently on the base of the headstone. It was the toy she had bought for him the day he died. It was six years late. She opened her mouth. Her throat felt like it was lined with broken glass. Her voice came out as a harsh, guttural rasp. "I'm sorry," she whispered to the empty air. "I'm a bad mother. I didn't protect you. And I let them brand me as the monster who killed you." The wind howled, violently shoving the umbrella backward. The rain lashed against her face and soaked through the right shoulder of her coat. The freezing water seeped into her skin, but she couldn't feel it. She stared at the stone until her vision blurred. "Evelina," Corinne breathed, the name tasting like poison on her tongue. "I will tear her life apart piece by piece. I will make her choke on her own blood." She swallowed hard, her chest heaving. "And your father. He was so blind. He threw away the only person who loved him to protect the snakes in his house." In the distance, one of the bodyguards took a step forward, holding up a spare umbrella. Corinne snapped her head around. She shot him a glare so lethal, so full of unhinged violence, that the trained professional immediately backed away. Corinne stayed crouched by the grave. The hours bled away. She let the freezing rain soak her to the bone. It was a physical penance. A somatic punishment for surviving when her son hadn't. When the sky finally began to turn a bruised purple with the dawn, the rain stopped. A single ray of pale sunlight hit the wet headstone. Corinne stood up. Her joints popped and cracked in protest. Her muscles were locked with cold. She looked down at the name one last time. The fragile, grieving mother was gone. The woman who turned away from the grave was a machine built for war. "I won't rest until they are all buried," she swore to the stone. She turned and walked back down the path. Her strides were long and rigid, her heels crushing the dead, wet leaves into the mud. She pulled open the car door and slid into the leather seat. Justus looked at her dripping hair and blue lips. He picked up a dry towel and held it out to her. He didn't say a word. Corinne ignored the towel. She stared straight ahead at the partition. "Back to Manhattan." She pulled her phone from her wet pocket. She dialed a heavily encrypted number. It rang once. "Initiate the protocol," Corinne commanded quietly. A deep, synthesized male voice answered on the other end. "Understood. Asset One is prepared and standing by." Justus's hand paused mid-air for a fraction of a second, noting the encrypted tone, but he didn't pry. He slowly lowered the towel, choosing to keep his mouth shut and respect the boundaries of their temporary alliance. The Lincoln sped back toward the city skyline. The gears of absolute destruction had begun to turn. There was no stopping it now.