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Not Just An Incubator: The Ex-Wife's Cold Revenge Novel Cover

Not Just An Incubator: The Ex-Wife's Cold Revenge

I was minutes from gifting my fiance a multi-million dollar tech empire when I found his mistress in my office. Caleb dismissed me as a pregnant liability, seizing my company and locking me in a panic room while I miscarried. He viewed me as a mere incubator to be discarded after the deal. He forgot I designed the very security he sold. Now, I have returned with his rival to trigger the backdoor I coded, ready to dismantle his world.
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Chapter 2

Brooke Myers POV

My phone buzzed against the center console with a notification from the bank. A single glance confirmed the damage: my corporate credit cards had been cancelled.

Caleb always moved fast when he was scared.

I drove through the city, the rain blurring the neon lights into streaks of bloody red and bruised blue. The pain in my abdomen came in waves now, a rhythmic tightening that made it hard to breathe.

I needed to see a doctor, but I couldn't go to the family clinic. They were on Caleb's payroll. They would report everything back to him before I even left the waiting room.

I pulled over two blocks from the Nexus building. I needed to compose myself. I couldn't walk into a rival Don's office looking like a casualty of war.

I checked my makeup in the rearview mirror. My reflection stared back at me-pale, ghostly.

Just then, a new message popped up on my private server. It was from the Commission.

Funding approved. Pending final signature at Friday's Sit-down.

Friday. Two days away.

Caleb thought he could sign the deal without me. He thought he could bluff his way through the technical demonstration.

He was going to use Leo.

I gripped the steering wheel. Leo was a kid I had plucked from an obscure hacking forum. I had taught him everything he knew about encryption. If Caleb forced Leo to run the demo, it might actually work.

I couldn't let that happen.

I put the car in gear and drove to the Roy compound's secondary gate. The guard shack was manned by a rookie.

I rolled down the window, letting the rain soak my sleeve.

"Open up, Miller," I said.

Miller looked nervous. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hand hovering near the scanner.

"Ms. Myers," he stammered. "I can't. The Boss... he put out a memo."

"A memo?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.

"Access denied," Miller said, looking at his boots. "Level 5 security threat."

Level 5. That was the code for federal informants and traitors.

"I built the security system you're looking at, Miller," I said. "Open the gate."

"I can't," he said. "Please. Don't make me call it in."

I looked past him. Through the chain-link fence, I saw Leo walking across the courtyard. He was carrying a stack of hard drives.

"Leo!" I screamed.

He stopped. He looked at me.

For a second, I saw the kid I had mentored. The kid I had saved from jail time.

Then he tightened his grip on the drives, looked down, and kept walking.

He knew. Everyone knew.

I felt a wave of nausea so strong I had to open the car door and dry heave onto the asphalt. Bile burned my throat.

My body was failing me. My allies were gone.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Movement caught my eye near the main house. Krystal was standing on the balcony. She was wearing a fur coat. My fur coat. The one Caleb had bought me for Christmas two years ago.

She raised a glass of champagne in a mock toast.

She wasn't just taking my place. She was erasing me.

I got back in the car, slamming the door shut.

The pain in my stomach was a warning. My body was screaming that the stress was too much for the baby.

But I couldn't stop. If I stopped now, I would be nothing but a footnote in Caleb Roy's biography.

I drove to the Nexus building.

Easton Jensen's headquarters was a fortress of glass and steel. It was modern, cold, and efficient.

The valet didn't ask for my name. He just opened the door.

"Mr. Jensen is expecting you on the top floor," he said.

I walked into the lobby. It was silent.

I stepped into the elevator. The doors closed, shutting out the noise of the city.

I looked at my reflection in the polished metal doors.

I didn't look like a mother. I didn't look like a bride.

I looked like a weapon that had just been armed.

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