Nine Years Gone: Rebirth of the Savage Wife

The morning Hudson Corp’s stock dipped six percent in under three hours, I didn’t need to check the news to know what happened. Adrian delivered, and the headlines spoke for themselves:

Hudson Corp Under Fire for Data Tampering—SEC Opens Preliminary Investigation. Whistleblower Evidence Surfaces, Former Executive Speaks Out

The board directors finally asked for an emergency meeting. Suddenly, Elliot wasn’t charming the board, but he was fighting to keep his position. The directors were sharks in suits, circling. Elliot sat at the head of the table, jaw tight, hair just slightly out of place—his usual bulletproof composure now showing cracks.

“This is a smear campaign,” he growled. “Fabricated by bitter ex-employees and outside interference.”

All eyes turned to me. I didn’t say a word. I just folded my hands neatly and tilted my head like I was watching a particularly predictable soap opera.

Then one of the older board members, Mr. Alden, cleared his throat. “Elliot, with respect… if these allegations prove true, the merger becomes a liability. Investors are already skittish.”

Another added, “We may need a contingency CEO. For stability.”

Elliot looked straight at me. “You’ve been planning this,” he said, low and sharp.

“You gave me every tool, so I sharpened them very well.”

Later That Day – Elliot’s Office

The door slammed shut behind us with a force that rattled the walls. Elliot’s hand, strong and unforgiving, gripped my arm as he dragged me toward the couch. My body ached—every muscle screamed at me to just give in—but I resisted, planting my feet firmly into the plush carpet. I wasn’t here to be pushed around. Not anymore.

He stopped, his chest heaving as he turned to face me. His eyes, wild and desperate, searched mine like they were trying to find some sliver of the woman I once was—the woman who had loved him, who had wanted him.

But there was nothing left for him here but cold resolve. I didn’t flinch. Not even when his gaze burned through me, his jaw grinding in frustration. No, I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

He stepped closer, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “Is this how you win, Isabella? Take everything I built and light it on fire?” His voice was a low growl, the pain in it unmistakable. I could hear the betrayal in his tone, the same betrayal I had felt when I watched him choose her—Lara—over me. The woman who had destroyed everything we had.

I crossed my arms, standing tall. “You built it on the bones of my father’s company,” I said, my voice steady and unwavering. “I’m just returning it to its rightful grave.”

He flinched, his brow furrowing as if the words were a blow. But he quickly recovered, his steps swift and deliberate as he came closer. There was an edge to his expression now, something almost desperate—a glimmer of the man I had once known, or so he’d claimed.

“I never stopped wanting you,” he said, the weight of the confession heavy between us. “Even when I hated you. Even when I tried to forget you.”

I could feel his words trying to cut through me, trying to find the crack in my armor, but I stood my ground, my heart encased in ice. “Then why didn’t you stop Lara from walking into our home like a rotting wound dressed in white?” The words slipped out, bitter and sharp, a reminder of the betrayal he had yet to truly understand.

His expression faltered, and for a moment, I saw it—the guilt, the regret. But he didn’t give in. He never did. “She was never the plan,” he admitted, the words raw. “She was… convenient. Disposable. But you—”

I interrupted him before he could continue, my voice low but firm. “Don’t,” I said, my eyes locking onto his. “Don’t feed me recycled lines like I’m still that girl waiting for you to come home.”

The silence that followed was heavy, lingering between us, thick with everything we hadn’t said in all these years. Elliot opened his mouth, but his words came out quiet, certain. “I’d burn this company to the ground if it meant you’d look at me like you used to.”

I took a step closer to him, our breaths now mingling in the air between us. His gaze was pleading, but I didn’t falter. I couldn’t. “I don’t want the company, Elliot.” My voice was a razor’s edge, cutting through the tension with surgical precision.

He blinked, disbelief flashing across his face. “You don’t?”

“No,” I said, my lips curling into a tight smile. “I want the ashes. I want your legacy ruined so thoroughly that you won’t even be a footnote in my victory.”

And I walked away. Leaving him there to drown in the ruins of his own creation. The cold wind brushed through my skin as I stepped out of the building. The rain was gentle. A whisper against the pavement. I walked alone, heels sharp against the quiet sidewalk, umbrella in hand. It had been a long day. A hard one. But victory smelled close now—like wet asphalt and adrenaline.

My phone buzzed. An unknown number. I read the text: You messed with a dangerous enemy.

I stepped onto the curb and paused, my phone still in hand. And then I heard footsteps behind. Heavy. Measured. Not urgent—but intentional. I turned—nothing. Just shadows. I continued walking, heart steady until…A hand clamped over my mouth. Another around my waist. Dragged. Fast. Into the alley. I kicked. Bit. Tried to scream.

A sharp voice hissed, “This is just a warning.”

Something sharp sliced across my forearm. Not deep. Just enough to sting.

Then silence.

The figure vanished into the dark, as fast as he appeared. I stumbled back, breath ragged, rain mixing with blood. In the distance, a car engine purred to life. My phone lit up again… Another buzz.

Unknown Number. One new message: Die, bitch!

And then—Boom!!!

The streetlight next to me exploded in sparks…