Too Late For Regret: The Ruthless Wife

The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:00 AM.

Cora sat at the vanity in her bedroom. The only light came from the glow of her laptop screen. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She was deep inside the dark web, bypassing the Mercer Corporation's weak firewalls, downloading their public financial records and looking for the Cayman Island transfers Julian had mentioned.

Heavy, stumbling footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Cora stopped typing. She heard a loud crash as someone bumped into the wall outside her door.

Leland. He was drunk.

He had spent the entire evening being mocked by his family over the fake jewelry and the dinner disaster. His fragile masculinity was completely shattered, and he was coming to take it out on her.

"Open this damn door!" Leland slurred, pounding his fist against the wood.

Cora calmly closed her laptop and slid it into the drawer.

Bang.

Leland kicked the door. The lock splintered, and the door flew open, hitting the wall.

Leland stood in the doorway, swaying heavily. His shirt was untucked, his tie hanging loose. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with a violent, ugly lust.

"You think you run this house?" Leland spat. He stumbled into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. "You're my wife. You do what I say."

He lunged at her, his heavy hands reaching out to grab her shoulders, intending to throw her onto the bed.

Cora didn't stand up. She stayed seated on the vanity chair.

As his hands came within an inch of her shoulders, Cora kicked her feet against the floor. The chair rolled backward smoothly, sliding half a meter away.

Leland grabbed empty air. His heavy, drunken momentum carried him forward. He lost his balance and pitched forward.

Cora stood up in a flash. She grabbed his outstretched right arm with both hands. She pivoted her hips, dropping her center of gravity, and pulled his arm tight over her shoulder.

With a sharp thrust of her hips and a pull of her arms, she executed a flawless judo shoulder throw.

Leland's massive body flew over her back.

He crashed onto the solid hardwood floor with a sickening thud. The air was violently forced from his lungs.

Leland curled into a tight ball, gasping for air like a dying fish. His face turned blue. He couldn't even scream.

Cora walked over to him. She lifted her foot and pressed the sole of her shoe down hard against his throat. Not enough to crush his windpipe, but enough to let him know she could.

She looked down at him. Her eyes were devoid of any human warmth.

Leland stared up at her. The alcohol haze vanished, replaced by pure, primal terror. He realized in that moment that she could kill him, and she wouldn't even blink.

He grabbed her ankle with trembling hands, trying to push her foot away.

"Please," Leland wheezed, tears leaking from his eyes. "Please."

Cora kept the pressure steady.

"Tomorrow," Leland gasped, desperate to save himself, "the country club... everyone will know about the fake Cartier. Brandi will talk. My reputation..."

He swallowed hard against her shoe.

"Tell them," Leland begged, "tell them you bought it. Tell them you were testing her. Take the blame. Please."

Cora pressed her foot down a fraction of an inch harder. Leland gagged.

Then, she lifted her foot.

Cora walked over to the vanity table. She picked up a crisp, legal document from beside her laptop-thankfully, she had utilized the estate's secure network to secretly print it in the library earlier that afternoon. She walked back and dropped it onto Leland's chest.

Leland picked it up with shaking hands. He squinted at the text.

"What is this?" he croaked.

"It's a property transfer deed," Cora said coldly. "For the penthouse in Tribeca. The one in your name."

Leland's eyes went wide. "That apartment is worth ten million dollars! I can't just give it to you!"

Cora crossed her arms. "Sign it, and I'll tell the country club the fake bracelet was my idea. Don't sign it, and tomorrow morning, I'll show your grandfather the exact receipts of your embezzlement from the company expense accounts."

Leland froze. He looked at her like she was a demon. He had no idea how she knew about the accounts.

He looked at the deed, then up at her cold, dead eyes. He knew she wasn't bluffing.

Leland pulled a gold pen from his shirt pocket. His hand shook violently as he signed his name on the bottom line.

Cora snatched the paper from his chest. She blew on the ink to dry it.

"Get out," Cora commanded, pointing at the door.

Leland scrambled to his feet. He clutched his bruised ribs and limped out of the room, not daring to look back.

Cora looked at the deed in her hand. One piece of the Mercer empire secured. Now, she just needed to cut the dead weight of Heloise's past.