Too Late For Regret: The Ruthless Wife

The security guards formed a wall, pushing the frantic guests back. Cora used the chaos. She let out another fake sob, shoved Leland's hands away, and bolted toward the grand staircase. She ran up the carpeted steps, leaving the screaming ballroom behind. The second-floor hallway was dead silent and empty. Cora stopped running. Her panicked expression vanished instantly. Her face returned to a mask of cold calculation. She grabbed the torn edges of her dress and tied them into a tight knot at her hip, freeing her legs for movement. Heavy, angry footsteps pounded up the stairs behind her. Cora didn't turn around. She listened to the rhythm. It was Jagger. He had broken away from the guards. Jagger rounded the corner. His white shirt was stained red. His face was contorted with pure hatred. "You lying whore!" Jagger spat. He lunged at her, throwing his arms out to grab her throat. Cora moved with terrifying speed. She kicked off her right Jimmy Choo stiletto and caught it in her hand. She pivoted on her left foot, dodging his clumsy grab. As Jagger stumbled past her, Cora slammed her back against the wall and brought her right hand up. She pressed the sharp, metal tip of the stiletto heel hard against the side of Jagger's neck, the cold point threatening to pierce his skin. Jagger froze instantly. The cold metal dug into his skin. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple. He held his hands up in the air, his breathing ragged. Cora leaned in close. She didn't yell. She spoke in a whisper that chilled the air. "Three," Cora counted. "Two." Jagger looked into her eyes. He saw no hesitation. He saw a killer. "Okay! Okay!" Jagger whimpered. His knees shook. Cora pulled the heel away. Jagger didn't look back. He scrambled down the hallway and practically fell down the back stairs to escape her. Cora watched him go. She turned and walked barefoot down the hall. She saw a door with a gold plaque: VIP Dressing Room. She pushed the door open and slipped inside. The room was dark, smelling of expensive perfume and hairspray. She sat on a velvet ottoman and reached down to put her shoe back on. Suddenly, the handle of the adjoining door clicked. Cora froze. The VIP rooms were connected by thin partition walls. She heard the door open, followed by heavy, frantic breathing. The sound of fabric tearing and a woman's muffled moan filtered through the thin wall. Cora rolled her eyes. She stood up, ready to leave quietly. Then, she heard the woman speak. "Julian, wait. My dress," the woman panted. Cora stopped dead. Julian. The groom. The man who was supposed to be cutting his wedding cake downstairs. "Forget the dress, Beatrice," Julian's voice replied, thick with lust. Beatrice. Cora's mind raced. Beatrice was Preston's wife. Jagger's mother. The groom was sleeping with his new sister-in-law. Cora pressed her back flat against the partition wall. She barely breathed. The sounds of their affair ended quickly. "We have to be quick," Julian muttered, his breathing still heavy. "With everyone's attention on Jagger and that stupid scene downstairs, this is the best time we have to talk." "Clarence is getting suspicious," Beatrice whispered, her voice tight with anxiety. "He asked about the offshore accounts yesterday." "Let the old man ask," Julian scoffed. "I've already paid off the CFO. The trust funds are being routed through the Caymans as we speak." Cora's eyes widened. Trust funds. She reached into her small clutch and pulled out her phone. She flipped the silent switch, opened the voice memo app, and hit record. She pressed the phone's microphone directly against the crack in the partition wall. "Once the accounts are drained," Beatrice laughed softly, "Leland and the rest of those idiots won't have a dime. It will all belong to us." "And Jagger," Julian added. His voice dropped lower. "Our son deserves the best." Cora's heart hammered a steady, victorious beat. Jagger was Julian's bastard son. This wasn't just a scandal. This was a nuclear bomb. She watched the red recording timer tick past four minutes. Every word of their financial treason and incestuous affair was captured in high-definition audio. "We need to get back down there," Julian said. The sound of zippers and rustling fabric followed. Cora waited until she heard the adjoining door open and close. She pulled her phone away. She hit stop, saved the file, and immediately uploaded it to a secure, encrypted cloud server. She slipped the phone back into her clutch. She looked at her reflection in the dark mirror. Her dress was ruined, but she had just acquired the weapon that would destroy the Vance family. She opened the door and walked out into the hallway. Leland was pacing near the top of the stairs, running his hands through his hair. When he saw her, he rushed forward and grabbed her wrist. "Where the hell have you been?" Leland hissed. "The press is going crazy!" Cora looked down at his hand on her wrist, then up at his panicked face. "Fixing my dress," Cora said flatly.