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The Billionaire's Genius Wife's Ultimate Cold Revenge
img img The Billionaire's Genius Wife's Ultimate Cold Revenge img Chapter 7 7
7 Chapters
Chapter 9 9 img
Chapter 10 10 img
Chapter 11 11 img
Chapter 12 12 img
Chapter 13 13 img
Chapter 14 14 img
Chapter 15 15 img
Chapter 16 16 img
Chapter 17 17 img
Chapter 18 18 img
Chapter 19 19 img
Chapter 20 20 img
Chapter 21 21 img
Chapter 22 22 img
Chapter 23 23 img
Chapter 24 24 img
Chapter 25 25 img
Chapter 26 26 img
Chapter 27 27 img
Chapter 28 28 img
Chapter 29 29 img
Chapter 30 30 img
Chapter 31 31 img
Chapter 32 32 img
Chapter 33 33 img
Chapter 34 34 img
Chapter 35 35 img
Chapter 36 36 img
Chapter 37 37 img
Chapter 38 38 img
Chapter 39 39 img
Chapter 40 40 img
Chapter 41 41 img
Chapter 42 42 img
Chapter 43 43 img
Chapter 44 44 img
Chapter 45 45 img
Chapter 46 46 img
Chapter 47 47 img
Chapter 48 48 img
Chapter 49 49 img
Chapter 50 50 img
Chapter 51 51 img
Chapter 52 52 img
Chapter 53 53 img
Chapter 54 54 img
Chapter 55 55 img
Chapter 56 56 img
Chapter 57 57 img
Chapter 58 58 img
Chapter 59 59 img
Chapter 60 60 img
Chapter 61 61 img
Chapter 62 62 img
Chapter 63 63 img
Chapter 64 64 img
Chapter 65 65 img
Chapter 66 66 img
Chapter 67 67 img
Chapter 68 68 img
Chapter 69 69 img
Chapter 70 70 img
Chapter 71 71 img
Chapter 72 72 img
Chapter 73 73 img
Chapter 74 74 img
Chapter 75 75 img
Chapter 76 76 img
Chapter 77 77 img
Chapter 78 78 img
Chapter 79 79 img
Chapter 80 80 img
Chapter 81 81 img
Chapter 82 82 img
Chapter 83 83 img
Chapter 84 84 img
Chapter 85 85 img
Chapter 86 86 img
Chapter 87 87 img
Chapter 88 88 img
Chapter 89 89 img
Chapter 90 90 img
Chapter 91 91 img
Chapter 92 92 img
Chapter 93 93 img
Chapter 94 94 img
Chapter 95 95 img
Chapter 96 96 img
Chapter 97 97 img
Chapter 98 98 img
Chapter 99 99 img
Chapter 100 100 img
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Chapter 7 7

It was 2:00 AM.

Emelie sat in the window seat of the master bedroom, the laptop balanced on her knees.

Lily was asleep in the room next door.

Emelie was typing furiously. The screen was filled with the draft of the RT303 Clinical Trial Protocol - Phase 2.

She was writing in German now, adding annotations for the Swiss team.

Molekülstabilität muss alle 4 Stunden überprüft werden. (Molecular stability must be checked every 4 hours.)

Her phone buzzed. A text from Clifton.

Running late. Dinner with the board.

Liar.

Emelie didn't reply. She kept typing.

Twenty minutes later, the front door opened.

Emelie didn't hide the laptop. She just lowered the screen slightly.

Clifton stumbled into the bedroom. He was drunk. Not falling-down drunk, but loose-limbed and heavy-eyed.

"Hey," he slurred slightly. "You're up."

He loosened his tie and tossed his jacket on the floor. He walked over to the window seat.

"What are you reading?" he asked, reaching out to touch her face.

Emelie held her breath.

As he leaned in, the smell hit her.

It wasn't just alcohol.

It was White Diamonds. Elizabeth Taylor. Heavy, floral, old-fashioned.

It was Eleanora's scent. And it was everywhere. It was in his hair. On his collar. On his skin.

He smelled like he had been marinating in it.

Emelie's stomach lurched. A wave of physiological nausea rolled over her.

She slapped his hand away. Hard.

"Don't touch me!"

Clifton recoiled, looking hurt. "What the hell? I'm your husband."

"You smell like a brothel," Emelie spat. She stood up, clutching the laptop to her chest. "Actually, you smell worse. You smell like her."

Clifton rubbed his face. "I told you, she was at the dinner. She hugged me goodbye. That's all."

"Did she hug you with her legs?" Emelie asked. "Because that scent is seeping out of your pores, Clifton. It's sticking to you like a disease."

"You're being paranoid," Clifton snapped, his guilt turning into anger. "I'm tired of this jealousy. Eleanora is a friend of the family. She's sick, Emelie. She needs support."

"She's sick?" Emelie laughed, a harsh sound. "Is that why you're using the samples? To support her?"

The words hung in the air.

Clifton went pale. Stone white.

"What did you say?" he whispered.

"I know about the biological assets, Clifton," Emelie said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I know you're accessing the Glover trust materials. Don't lie to me."

Clifton stared at her. His eyes darted back and forth. He looked terrified.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice shaking. "The trust is managed by the board. I just sign the papers."

"Get out," Emelie pointed to the door. "Go sleep in the guest room. Or better yet, go back to her. But do not sleep in my bed smelling like that."

Clifton stared at her for a long moment. Then he grabbed his jacket and stormed out.

Emelie locked the door.

She sat back down. Her hands were trembling.

She opened the laptop again.

She scrolled to the bottom of the document.

Lead Researcher: Ghost.

She hit Send.

The email flew to Zurich.

The next morning, Emelie was in the breakfast nook, drinking black coffee. She was dressed in a sharp navy suit.

Clifton walked in. He looked hungover and wary.

"Coffee?" Emelie pushed a mug toward him.

Clifton took it. He watched her over the rim. "About last night..."

"Forget it," Emelie said breezily. "I was tired. I overreacted."

Clifton blinked. The whiplash of her moods was confusing him. "Okay."

"So," Emelie said, buttering toast. "When do we leave for Germany?"

Clifton choked on his coffee. "Germany?"

"I heard you on the phone," Emelie said. "You're taking Lily to Germany for a checkup. I assume I'm invited?"

"Actually," Clifton set the mug down. "I was thinking... it might be better if I just took Lily. You need rest. The stress is getting to you."

"You want to take my daughter to another country without me?" Emelie's knife scraped loudly against the toast.

"Eleanora is going," Clifton said quickly. "She has... treatments there. She can help with Lily."

Emelie looked at him.

He was taking the mistress and the child. Leaving the wife behind.

"No," Emelie said.

"It's already arranged, Emelie. The jet leaves tomorrow."

"I said no." Emelie stood up. "I am going. If you try to stop me, I will call the police and report a kidnapping. I will call the press. I will burn your stock price to the ground."

Clifton stared at her. He saw something in her eyes he had never seen before.

It wasn't love. It wasn't fear.

It was war.

"Fine," Clifton muttered. "Pack a bag."

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