The Neglected Wife Is A Hidden Genius

At the Harmon estate, Miranda Harmon hurled a Limoges vase at the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces.

"That little bitch!" Miranda shrieked. "She hung up on me! She blocked my number!"

Eric sat on the sofa, his face ashen. His lawyer had just called. Iona wasn't bluffing. She had filed a formal demand for the five hundred thousand.

"She's lost her mind," Preston snapped, yanking at his tie. He grabbed the phone. "Freeze her trust fund. Freeze all her accounts. Now."

"She's probably hiding with those hillbillies," Miranda sneered. "The Hollis family put her up to this."

Veronica leaned against Eric, playing with his cufflink. "Eric, you aren't really going to pay her back, are you? It was a gift."

"It was an investment," Eric lied, but sweat beaded on his forehead. He had spent that money on Veronica's Porsche. He didn't have it.

"I'll go get her," Eric said, standing up. "She's just throwing a tantrum. I'll talk some sense into her."

An hour later, Eric's Maserati rumbled into a working-class neighborhood in Queens. He parked in front of a modest, well-kept house. A few neighbors stopped to stare at the flashy car.

Eric smoothed his hair and knocked on the door.

Nathan Hollis opened it. He was built like a truck, his flannel shirt stretched across his shoulders. He looked down at Eric with pure disgust.

"Where's Iona?" Eric demanded, trying to look authoritative.

"She doesn't live here," Nathan said, blocking the doorway. "And she doesn't want to see you. Leave."

Eric bristled. "Look, I don't have time for this. Just tell her I'm here. This is between me and my fiancée."

Sean and Kyle Hollis stepped out from behind Nathan. Three massive men, eyes full of hatred.

"Fiancée?" Kyle scoffed. "You mean the woman you cheated on with that snake? Get the hell out of our neighborhood."

"You blue-collar thugs," Eric sneered, taking an involuntary step back. "Do you know who I am? My father could buy this entire block and have you all evicted by morning."

Nathan didn't move, but his sheer presence was a threat. He didn't need to raise his voice. "You're a cheating coward who hurt our sister. That's all we need to know. Now you have five seconds to get back in that ridiculous car before we help you."

Eric's face went white. The bravado evaporated. He scrambled back to the Maserati, his hands shaking so badly he could barely unlock the door. As he sped off, he heard the neighbors laughing.

He pulled out his phone. Iona wasn't playing. She was gone.