Chapter 2 - The Cold Strategy
I didn't scream. I didn't smash dishes, pull Chloe's styled hair, or shed a single tear in front of either of them.
Instead, I stepped cleanly over the spilled eggs and shattered ceramic tile on the kitchen floor, walked over to the coffee maker, and poured myself a black coffee.
Ethan stared at me, his hand resting on Chloe’s trembling shoulder. He was clearly preparing for an outburst—the classic, hysterical response of a wife catching her husband bringing his mistress into their home. My eerie, absolute composure made him deeply uncomfortable.
"Mabel," Ethan began, his tone defensive. "You need to apologize to Chloe. She was just trying to cook breakfast to smooth things over."
I turned around, taking a slow sip of my hot coffee. I looked at Chloe. Beneath her tear-streaked face and frail, helpless posture, I caught the faint, triumphant smirk gleaming in her dark eyes. She thought she had already won. She thought she had successfully framed me as a bitter, abusive wife.
"I won't be apologizing, Ethan," I said, my voice dropping into a tone so cold and steady it cut through the room like a razor. "And Chloe, if you ever step foot in my home again before our divorce is finalized, I will have you removed for trespassing."
Chloe gasped, shrinking even further against Ethan. "Ethan... she's threatening me!"
"Mabel, that's enough!" Ethan yelled, stepping toward me. "You're acting completely unhinged! This is my house!"
"Correction," I replied smoothly, setting my mug down on the marble counter. "This house was purchased using my inheritance from my grandmother as a sixty percent down payment. Legally, my name is primary on the deed. If anyone is leaving, Ethan, it's your assistant."
Ethan’s mouth snapped shut. For three years, he had been living in his corporate bubble in Chicago, surrounded by subordinates who bowed to his every command. He had completely forgotten that before I took a step back to support his career, I was a senior financial analyst for one of the top forensic auditing firms on the East Coast.
He thought he was dealing with a gullible, heartbroken housewife. He was about to find out he was dealing with his worst nightmare.
"Get out, Chloe," I commanded, staring directly at her.
Chloe looked at Ethan, waiting for him to fight for her. But Ethan was visibly rattled by my legal reminder. He swallowed hard, adjusting his watch.
"Chloe... maybe it's best if you head to the hotel for now," Ethan muttered, refusing to meet her eyes. "I'll call you a ride."
Chloe’s jaw dropped in absolute shock. She hadn't expected Ethan to back down so easily. She glared at me with pure, unfiltered malice before snatching her designer purse off the counter and stomping out the front door, slamming it behind her.
The house fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
Ethan turned to me, his jaw set in anger. "Satisfied? You just humiliated a woman who cares about me."
"You humiliated yourself the day you brought your mistress to my kitchen, Ethan," I said calmly, pulling my phone from my robe pocket. "I’m giving you until six o'clock tonight to pack your clothes and clear out of the master bedroom."
Ethan let out a harsh, arrogant laugh. "And if I don't? What are you going to do, Mabel? Sue me? Vance Global owns the best legal team in the country. If we go to court, I’ll strip you of every asset you have."
I smiled—a small, slow, lethal smile that made the color drain from Ethan's face.
"You really should have checked your personal bank statements before you flew back from Chicago, Ethan," I murmured softly.
Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked up the grand staircase to my private office, locking the door securely behind me.
I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and dialed a number I had saved three days ago.
May you like
"Law office of Alexander Sterling," a smooth, authoritative male voice answered on the second ring.
"Alexander," I said, leaning back in my chair. "It's Mabel Vance. I have the paper trail you asked for. All three years of it."
