Too Late For Regret: My Genius Wife

Dawn broke over Manhattan, painting the sky in bruises of purple and grey. Carie hadn't slept.

Katy walked out of the bedroom in a plush robe, holding two coffees. She looked at Carie, then at the laptop screen.

"You've been up all night?"

"I'm busy," Carie said, taking the coffee. Black. Double shot.

On the screen was a complex web of the Christian family's assets.

"See this?" Carie pointed to a node labeled Christian Global Logistics. "This is Genoveva's cash cow. It funds everything. Athena's lifestyle, her PR team, her lawyers."

"Okay..." Katy sat down.

Carie put on her Bluetooth earpiece. She dialed a number. It connected instantly.

"Oui, Mademoiselle?" A crisp male voice answered. Brice Reed. Carie's proxy in Paris.

"Brice," Carie said, switching to flawless French. "Execute Order 66 on the Christian stock. Short it. Everything we have in the liquidity pool."

Katy's jaw dropped. "You speak French? Since when?" Her voice was a low whisper, almost lost in the hum of the city. A flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by fierce loyalty, crossed her face.

Brice didn't hesitate. "Understood. The market opens in ten minutes. We will hit them hard."

Carie hung up.

Her personal phone buzzed on the table.

A text message. From Athena.

I'm so sorry about last night, Carie. Erik is just so worried about me. I hope you didn't catch a cold. We're all praying for your mental health. xoxo.

Carie stared at the screen. The gaslighting was masterful. She was trying to make Carie feel crazy. Trying to make her react.

Carie typed back: Enjoy what you stole. The bill is coming due.

She hit send.

Three dots appeared. Then disappeared.

Blocked.

Carie smirked. "She blocked me."

She turned back to the laptop. "Now for the fun part."

She accessed a secure database. "Find me all public records related to Christian Global Logistics. Specifically, any environmental or safety violations, past or present. And check their current shipping manifests for any irregularities."

Brice's voice came through her earpiece again. "Already on it, Mademoiselle. We have several historical incidents that were quietly settled. And their current North American operations show some... interesting discrepancies."

Carie nodded. "Focus on the discrepancies. Something that can be flagged by a regulatory body quickly."

"What are you doing?" Katy asked.

"Just a little compliance check," Carie said.

A few minutes later, Brice sent a report. "Mademoiselle, Christian Global Logistics has a shipment of high-value pharmaceuticals awaiting customs clearance at JFK. The manifest declares it as standard cargo, but our intel suggests it contains highly temperature-sensitive materials that require specialized handling. Their current storage conditions at JFK are inadequate, a clear violation of FDA and DOT regulations."

"Perfect," Carie murmured. She drafted an anonymous tip, attaching Brice's findings, and sent it to the relevant authorities.

Five minutes later, a news alert flashed on her screen.

Compliance Alert. Shipment Quarantined at JFK. Investigation Underway.

"Check Bloomberg," Carie told Katy.

Katy pulled up the app on her phone.

"Oh my god," she said. "Breaking news. Christian Global Logistics facing massive recall due to safety violations. Stock is... it's tanking. Down 8% in pre-market."

"Make that 12%," Carie said, watching Brice's sell orders hit the tape.

Erik would be seeing this. He sat on the board of their subsidiary.

"Carie," Katy said, looking at her with a mix of awe and terror. "How much money do you actually have?"

Carie closed the laptop. "Enough to buy and sell Erik Flynn ten times over."

She stood up. "We can't stay here. Erik will check the hotels. He'll check your credit cards."

"So where do we go?"

"We need a fortress," Carie said. "Somewhere he can't get in."

"I know a place," Katy said, grinning. "Tribeca. But it's expensive."

"Expense is not an issue," Carie said. "Let's go."

In the Flynn Tower, Erik stared at the TV screen in his office.

The red ticker at the bottom of CNBC was screaming about the Christian family stock crash.

He picked up his phone to call Genoveva, but paused.

Something felt wrong.

He looked at the empty chair across from his desk. He thought of Carie, walking out into the snow.

He checked his banking app. The joint account.

No activity.

He checked her credit cards.

Zero transactions.

"Where are you?" he muttered.

He hit the intercom. "Julian!"

Julian rushed in. "Sir?"

"Find my wife," Erik growled. "Hire a PI. Check every hotel, every shelter. She has no money. She can't have gone far."

"Yes, sir."

Erik spun the wedding ring on his finger. It felt loose.