The Jilted Wife's Dangerous Revenge

The VIP lounge at JFK Airport was deathly quiet.

Hillary Warner slammed a glossy fashion magazine down on the glass coffee table. The sound made the attendant in the corner jump.

"Why are we leaving?" Hillary demanded. Her red lips were pulled into a tight sneer. "Why haven't you thrown that parasite out on the street yet? Are you attached to her?"

Angel sat in the leather armchair opposite her. He rested his elbows on his knees and dug his fingers into his hair. He pulled hard, letting the physical pain distract him from the pounding in his skull.

"It's not that simple, Hillary," Angel said. His voice was exhausted.

"It is simple!" Hillary snapped. She leaned forward, her eyes flashing. "She's faking it, Angel. She's using that ear to manipulate you. She's playing the victim to keep your money."

Angel's head snapped up.

His eyes were lethal. The exhaustion vanished, replaced by a cold, terrifying anger.

"Shut up," Angel snarled.

Hillary recoiled. She blinked, her mouth falling open in shock. "Excuse me?"

"I said shut up," Angel repeated, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You weren't in that car. You didn't see the glass. You don't get to talk about her ear."

Hillary's eyes filled with tears. Her perfectly powdered face crumpled. "You've changed," she choked out. She grabbed her designer handbag and her first-class ticket. She stood up, her heels clicking aggressively. "Call me when you remember who you are."

She turned and stormed out of the lounge, not looking back.

Angel didn't go after her.

He sat alone in the massive room. He stared at the empty chair across from him.

Flashes of Joy curled on the floor, clutching her head, burned behind his eyes. The guilt was a physical weight on his chest, crushing his lungs. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

He pulled his phone out and dialed a number.

"Calvin," Angel said the second the line connected. His voice was ice.

"Yes, Mr. Wilcox?"

"Find the best otolaryngologist in the world. I don't care where they are. Fly them to New York."

There was a pause on the line. "Is this for... Mrs. Wilcox, sir?"

Angel closed his eyes. "Yes. I want a private clinic. Top-tier equipment. Book it for tomorrow morning. Whatever it costs."

He hung up.

He stared out the window at the planes taking off. He wasn't doing this because he cared. He was doing this to sever the chain. If he fixed her ear, he fixed his guilt. And then he could finally throw her away.

Three hours later, Angel walked into the penthouse apartment.

He bypassed the living room and walked straight to the guest bedroom. He pushed the door open without knocking.

Joy was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading a book. She jumped when the door hit the wall.

Angel walked over and tossed a thick, embossed business card onto her lap.

"Dr. Aris. From Zurich," Angel said. His tone was strictly business. "He's the best in the world. We have an appointment at ten tomorrow morning."

Joy stared at the card. The gold lettering seemed to mock her.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Zurich. The best in the world. Her palms instantly started to sweat.

She forced herself to look up at him. She kept her face blank.

"If he fixes it," Joy said, her voice tight, "does that mean I have to sign the papers?"

Angel leaned against the doorframe. A cruel smile touched the corner of his mouth.

"They are two separate issues," Angel said. "I just want to clear my ledger. I don't like owing debts."

Joy closed her book. She nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll go."

Angel pushed off the doorframe. He turned to leave. He stopped in the hallway and looked back over his shoulder.

"Don't let me find out you're playing games, Joy," Angel said softly.

He walked away.

Joy sat frozen on the bed. Her breathing turned shallow and rapid. She picked up the business card. Her fingers were trembling so badly she almost dropped it.

A top-tier specialist with advanced equipment would see right through her. They would see the healed eardrum. They would know she was lying.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand. She opened a secure, encrypted messaging app. She stared at the single contact listed there.

The only person in the world who knew the truth about her ear.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. A drop of cold sweat rolled down her spine.