The Unwanted Wife And Her Ruthless Revenge

Emilia POV:

The single candle flame flickered, dancing in my eyes.

On the table sat a perfectly cooked steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus. A bottle of expensive red wine I couldn't really afford was breathing on the counter.

Three years.

Our third wedding anniversary.

I glanced at my phone. Blank screen. No messages. No missed calls.

In three years of a PR contract marriage to Blake Sterling, captain of the Chicago Blackhawks, I should have been used to the silence. But a stupid, stubborn part of me still hoped.

My phone lit up, and my heart jumped into my throat. An unknown number. Maybe this was it. A surprise he'd arranged.

I swiped to answer, my voice a little too breathless. "Hello?"

"Is this Ms. Emilia Hayes?" a cold, professional voice asked. "This is Chicago General Hospital. Your grandmother, Eleanor Hayes, is in critical condition. We need you to come immediately."

My fork slipped from my fingers, landing on the plush rug with a dull thud.

I grabbed my keys, my purse, and ran.

The drive was a blur. The city lights smeared across my windshield like wet paint. I turned on the radio, needing a distraction from the panic clawing at my throat.

"... exclusive! Chicago Blackhawks captain Blake spotted tonight at Gibson's, dining with his former flame, model Sophie Price. Sources say the two were incredibly close, sparking rumors that the old romance is back on..."

My hand flew from the wheel and slammed into the dashboard. Pain shot up my arm, but it was nothing compared to the ice flooding my veins.

My husband.

On our anniversary.

While my grandmother was dying, he was with his "true love."

I burst through the emergency room doors, the scent of antiseptic and fear making my stomach clench. Maria White, the nurse who cared for my grandma, was pacing near the entrance, her face streaked with tears.

"Emilia, you're finally here!" She grabbed my arm, her hands trembling. "About an hour ago, a Miss Sophie came to visit. She and Eleanor were in the room and they argued..."

Before she could finish, the doors to the trauma unit swung open. Dr. Wright emerged, pulling off his surgical mask with a weary sigh.

He looked at me and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hayes. We did everything we could. The patient suffered a massive, sudden cerebral hemorrhage. We were unable to revive her."

The sounds of the hospital faded into a dull, buzzing hum. My grandmother. The only family I had. The person who adopted me and gave me life.

Gone.

"No," I whispered, grabbing the front of Dr. Wright's scrubs. The fabric twisted in my fist. "That's impossible. She was fine this morning. Why would this happen?"

"The patient's blood pressure spiked to a catastrophic level," Dr. Wright explained gently. "It's usually triggered by severe emotional distress."

Severe emotional distress.

My head snapped toward Maria.

I stumbled over to the nurse, my hands gripping her shoulders. "What did Sophie say to my grandmother? Tell me. You have to tell me everything."

Maria flinched, her eyes wide with fear. "She... she said you'd never be a real Sterling. That Blake was going to divorce you and marry her."

"She told Eleanor, 'You old bitch, you'll get to watch your precious granddaughter get thrown out on the street,'" Maria sobbed, repeating the words.

Every syllable was a hammer blow to my heart.

It was Sophie. She killed my grandmother.

My hand was shaking so hard I could barely unlock my phone. I dialed the number I knew by heart. It rang and rang, finally clicking on the sixth ring.

"Emilia?" Blake's voice was laced with impatience. I could hear faint laughter in the background. A woman's laugh.

I forced my own voice to be steady, devoid of the hurricane raging inside me. "Blake. My grandmother is dead."

A pause. Then, "I'm sorry to hear that, Emilia. I'll have my assistant handle the arrangements."

"Sophie agitated her," I said.

His tone shifted instantly, becoming defensive. "Emilia, don't be ridiculous. Sophie was just being kind, paying a visit."

A laugh escaped my lips, a broken, ugly sound. "Kind? You're with her on our anniversary, Blake, and you're telling me she's 'kind'?"

"Our marriage is a contract, Emilia. Don't forget who you are," he said.

That single sentence murdered the last shred of warmth I had for him. I ended the call.

My phone buzzed again. A push notification from TMZ.

The headline was a punch to the gut: "Blake and First Love Sophie Check Into Hotel, Is The Golden Couple Finally Back Together?"

The accompanying photo showed them from behind, walking into the Peninsula Hotel, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist.

I looked at the picture on my phone.

Blake. Sophie.

I swear, I will make you pay in blood.