The Pregnant Ex-Wife's Vengeance

Liam stared at the black leather-bound document resting on the carpet. He did not move for ten seconds. Then, his knees buckled. He dropped to the floor, his suit wrinkling against the marble.

"You cannot do this," Liam whispered, staring at the bold print of the divestment agreement. "My father built Preston Enterprises. It is his legacy. I will not hand it over for nothing."

"Your father built a respectable firm," I corrected, stepping closer to his kneeling form. "You turned it into a sinking ship. You doctored the financials. You alienated the board."

"Give me ten percent," he bargained, looking up with desperate, bloodshot eyes. "Leave me a minority stake. I can step down as CEO, but let me keep my seat on the board."

"You want ten percent?" I laughed without humor. "Five years ago, I asked you for enough money to cover a hospital bill. You told your guards to throw me out. You don't get to negotiate now."

He grabbed the silver pen I had tossed beside the papers. His knuckles turned white. The tip of the pen hovered over the signature line, vibrating violently.

He looked up at me again, his gray eyes locking onto mine with hatred.

"You turned into a monster," Liam spat. "You are cold-blooded, Emma. You have no soul left."

I leaned forward, planting both hands flat on my thighs, bringing my face inches from his.

"Compared to the cold-bloodedness of forcing me to abort my baby," I whispered, keeping my gaze deadlocked on his, "I am not even close."

He flinched. The pen scratched a jagged line across the paper.

"Sign it," I commanded. "Or I make the call, and the auditors and federal investigators are at your office by sunrise."

Liam gritted his teeth. He pressed the nib down and scrawled his name. He threw the pen against the wall, shoved the document toward my feet, and scrambled up. He stormed out of the suite without another word. The oak door slammed shut, rattling the hinges.

I picked up the signed contract, tracing the angles of his signature.

Noah stepped up beside me, slipping his warm hand around my waist. "Satisfied?"

"It is just the beginning," I said.

I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and peered down at the rain-slicked pavement of the hotel roundabout. Tiny figures moved beneath the streetlights.

Chloe stood by the valet stand, her red dress plastered to her legs. She lunged forward, grabbing Liam's lapels as he exited the revolving doors. Even from fifty stories up, I could see the frantic jerking of her arms. She shoved his chest. He shoved her back, pointing a rigid finger at her face.

"She is demanding answers," Noah remarked, standing right behind my shoulder.

"She wants to know where the fifty million went," I said. "And he is telling her they have nothing left."

Down below, Chloe ripped her handbag from Liam's grasp and stormed toward a waiting taxi. She left him standing alone on the curb.

They were tearing each other apart. The perfect couple, fracturing the second the money vanished. A sweet, metallic taste flooded my mouth. I smiled against the cold glass. The first step of revenge was complete.

At nine o'clock the next morning, I pushed open the frosted glass doors of the Preston Enterprises executive boardroom.

Twelve men in tailored suits froze in their leather chairs.

Liam sat at the head of the long mahogany table, holding a laser pointer. He looked up, his face draining of color the second I stepped into the room. His tie was crooked, and circles bruised the skin under his eyes.

"What is the meaning of this?" an older executive demanded, slamming his folder shut. "This is a closed meeting."

"Not anymore," I said, tossing the divestment agreement onto the center of the polished wood.

Liam's jaw clamped shut. He glanced at the senior executives, then back at me. "Emma, we are in the middle of a quarterly review."

"You don't work here anymore, Mr. Preston," I reminded him, tapping the stack of papers. "I own seventy percent of the voting shares. This is my office now. Move."

"You can't just walk in here and take over," Liam argued, planting his hands on the table. "The board has to approve any transfer of majority control."

"The board already did," I countered. "I bought out the private equity firms backing you at midnight. You signed over your personal shares at two in the morning. You have zero equity. You are trespassing in my building."

Liam looked at the other executives. None of them met his eyes. They all stared at their notepads.

"Move," I repeated.

Liam's chest heaved. He stood up slowly, his fingers digging into the leather armrests before he stepped aside.

I slid into the seat, smoothing my skirt.

"I take my coffee black," I told him, pointing to the side console. "Go get it."

"I am not your assistant," Liam growled, leaning down so only I could hear him. "I am still the founder's son."

"You are here only because I have not had security remove you," I said, loud enough for the room to hear. "If you want to argue about your title, I can release the audit showing exactly how your mismanagement hurt this company. Pour the coffee."

He stood rigidly. His face turned a deep, mottled red. Then, he turned on his heel and marched toward the side console. He grabbed a porcelain mug, his hands trembling as he filled it from the silver carafe.

He walked back and set the mug in front of me. "Here."

I left it untouched.

"Emma, please," an older man with graying hair said from the opposite end of the table. Arthur, the chief financial officer. "Liam built the software division. Whatever happened between you two, humiliating him will not help the company."

"Then let us discuss the company," I said. "Where was this concern when the quarterly earnings were manipulated? Did you help him, Arthur, or did you look away?"

Arthur paled and said nothing.

I slid the audit summary into the center of the table. "From this point forward, loyalty to a family name does not outrank fiduciary duty. Anyone who disagrees can resign before lunch."

The room went silent.

I stood up, resting my palms on the table, my cold gaze sweeping over the terrified faces of the executives.

"In this room, only I have the final say."