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The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback
img img The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback img Chapter 8 8
8 Chapters
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 8 8

3:00 AM.

A crack of thunder shook the Manhattan skyline. Rain lashed against the massive industrial windows of the Loft.

Eulalie bolted upright in bed, gasping.

Thunder.

Elara was terrified of thunder. Since she was two, she would scream until she vomited unless Eulalie held her and sang Golden Slumbers.

Eulalie grabbed her phone. She paced the room, the concrete cold under her bare feet.

She dialed the landline. It rang and rang. No answer. Someone had unplugged it.

She dialed Caden's cell. Voicemail.

She dialed the nanny's cell.

"Hello?" A sleepy, annoyed voice.

"Sarah? Is Elara okay? The storm..."

"Mrs. Holloway?" Sarah yawned. "Uh, Mr. Holloway is in there with her. He's... shouting a bit. Trying to get her to stop crying."

Eulalie's blood ran cold. Caden didn't have patience. He yelled when he was stressed.

"Put her on. Please."

"I can't, ma'am. He took everyone's phones. He said... he said you're harassing the family."

Harassing.

"Just check on her," Eulalie begged. "Tell her... tell her the thunder is just clouds high-fiving."

"I... I can't. Goodnight."

Click.

Eulalie stood in the dark, the lightning illuminating her silhouette. She felt like an animal trapped in a cage. She threw the phone onto the mattress. It bounced harmlessly.

In the Penthouse, Elara was sobbing into her pillow. Caden stood in the doorway, looking disheveled and furious.

"It's just noise, Elara! Grow up!" he shouted over a clap of thunder. "Your mother isn't here to baby you! Stop it!"

Elara choked on a sob, burying her head deeper. She hated him. In that moment, she truly hated him.

The next morning. The rain had stopped.

Eulalie stood before her computer. She opened the schedule for the Tech Summit.

Day 1: Keynote Speech - Nexus AI.

She circled it with her mouse cursor.

She opened the chat with Jory.

Ghost: Change of plans. I'm not just attending. I want to be on stage.

Jory: Whoa. Are you sure? That's... a declaration of war.

Ghost: Holloway Holdings is going to be there looking for a savior. I want them to see exactly who they threw away.

Jory: I love it. I'll prep the demo. Welcome home, boss.

Eulalie walked to the garment rack. The Yves Saint Laurent suit hung there, black as midnight.

She ran her fingers over the silk lapel.

She wasn't a mother today. She wasn't a wife. She was a weapon.

She went to the bathroom mirror. She pulled out a temporary tattoo she had bought-a small, geometric butterfly. She applied it to the inside of her wrist, right over her pulse point.

It was a symbol. Transformation.

She looked at her eyes. They were cold, clear. The woman who begged for phone calls at 3 AM was gone.

"Let's go," she said to her reflection.

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