The Broken Wife's Ultimate Revenge

Juliana Dalton sat at the edge of the velvet vanity stool in the master bedroom of her Manhattan penthouse. Her fingers trembled slightly as she fastened the final pearl button of her white silk blouse. The fabric felt like ice against her skin.

Her phone buzzed against the marble countertop. The harsh vibration rattled her makeup brushes.

She glanced at the screen. A text from her best friend, Ashly Cook.

An image loaded.

Juliana's stomach plummeted. The air vanished from her lungs.

The photo was grainy, taken from a distance at JFK's private terminal. But the woman stepping out of the black SUV was unmistakable. Corrin Henderson. She was holding a Birkin bag, her blonde hair catching the morning light.

Corrin was back.

Juliana's fingernails dug into her palms. The sharp pain grounded her.

The heavy oak door of the master bedroom swung open.

Adelbert Landry walked in. He brought the crisp autumn chill of Manhattan with him.

He didn't look at her. He never looked at her.

He walked straight toward the walk-in closet. His fingers tore at the knot of his silk tie.

Juliana inhaled. Her chest tightened.

Underneath the scent of the cold wind, she smelled it. A heavy, expensive niche perfume. Notes of vanilla and dark amber.

It wasn't hers. It was the exact scent Corrin used to wear.

Juliana stood up. Her knees felt weak.

"Where were you last night?"

Her voice shook. She hated how weak it sounded.

Adelbert stopped. He dropped the tie onto a leather chair. He turned around slowly.

His dark eyes locked onto hers. They were empty. Cold. He looked at her like she was a piece of trash on his expensive rug.

"Do you really think you have the right to question my schedule?"

He let out a harsh, humorless laugh.

Juliana bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper.

"Corrin is back in New York."

Adelbert's jaw clenched. The muscle ticked under his skin.

He closed the distance between them in three long strides. He backed her up until her spine hit the edge of the marble vanity.

He slammed both hands onto the counter, trapping her in his shadow. The scent of vanilla and amber suffocated her.

"Don't you ever say her name."

His voice was a low, dangerous whisper.

"You don't get to speak about her. Not after what you did. Not with your history."

Juliana's face drained of color. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"Adelbert, those photos from college were fake. I told you. I never signed a Sugar Baby Arrangement. Corrin set me up-"

His hand shot out. His fingers gripped her chin, squeezing hard. He forced her to look up at him.

"Stop lying."

His breath fanned over her face.

"I know exactly what you are, Juliana. You sold your body to climb into my world. You have no bottom line. You are dirty."

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Her throat burned.

"If you ever try to touch Corrin, or if you don't play your part as the perfect, quiet wife," Adelbert warned, his grip tightening, "I will ruin you. I will make sure you are nothing in this city."

He let go of her chin. He stepped back.

He pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his fingers. Like touching her had contaminated him.

He tossed the handkerchief into the trash can. He turned and walked out of the bedroom.

The door slammed shut. The sound echoed in the massive room.

Juliana's legs gave out. She collapsed onto the vanity stool.

She stared at her pale reflection in the mirror. She forced herself to take a deep breath. Her lungs burned.

She grabbed her concealer. She covered the red marks on his fingers left on her chin. She had to go to work.

The fluorescent lights in the top-floor boardroom of Landry Corporation blinded her.

Juliana stood at the head of the long mahogany table. The projector screen behind her displayed the quarterly financial reports.

Her head was spinning. The scent of Adelbert's clothes-the vanilla and amber-was stuck in her nose. His words echoed in her skull.

You are dirty.

Her vision blurred. The numbers on the screen turned into black, crawling ants.

"As you can see from the Q3 margins..."

Her voice cracked. Her hand shook violently.

The laser pointer slipped from her sweaty fingers. It hit the carpet with a dull thud.

The executives around the table stopped typing. They exchanged confused whispers.

Juliana tried to grab the edge of the table. Her fingers missed.

A wave of dark nausea hit her stomach. The room tilted sideways.

Her eyes rolled back. She fell forward into the empty air.

Right before her face hit the floor, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist. They caught her mid-fall.

Juliana gasped. Her lungs dragged in a sharp breath of air.

She opened her eyes. The harsh boardroom lights stabbed at her retinas.

She was leaning against a solid chest. A dark suit jacket draped over her shoulders. It smelled of clean cedarwood and mint.

She tilted her head up. Kian Vance, her boss, was looking down at her. His blue eyes were wide with worry.

"Juliana. Do you need me to call an ambulance?"

His voice was low, meant only for her ears.

Juliana's stomach twisted. She shoved her hands against his chest and pushed herself away.

She stumbled back, her heels wobbling on the carpet. She quickly smoothed down her pencil skirt.

"I apologize, everyone."

She kept her voice flat. Professional. Distant.

"Just a sudden drop in blood sugar."

Kian frowned. The lines around his mouth tightened. "Juliana, you've been working eighty-hour weeks. If you collapse again, the board will start asking questions about your fitness for this role, and the rumors are already starting to circle," he warned quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Meeting paused for ten minutes," Kian announced loudly to the room.

He didn't wait for a response. He grabbed a glass from the table, filled it with warm water from the pitcher, and pressed it into her hands.

"Drink it. Sit down."

Juliana stared at the glass. The warmth seeped into her freezing fingers.

"Thank you, Mr. Vance."

She avoided his eyes. She couldn't handle his concern. Not when her own husband looked at her with pure disgust.

She set the glass down.

"Excuse me. I need the restroom."

She practically ran out of the boardroom.

In the bathroom, she turned the faucet to the coldest setting. She splashed the freezing water onto her face. The shock made her gasp, forcing her brain to wake up.

Hours later, the workday ended.

"Let me drop you off," Kian offered as they stood by the elevators.

"No. Thank you. I ordered an Uber."

She walked away before he could argue.

The rain started pouring as the Uber drove toward Long Island. The heavy drops slapped against the window.

Juliana stared at her reflection in the dark glass. She looked exhausted. Hollow.

The car pulled up to the massive iron gates of the Landry family estate.

The security guard checked her ID. He was perfectly polite, but his eyes lingered on her face a second too long, carrying a hesitant, overly scrutinizing weight before he slowly opened the gate.

Juliana stepped out of the car. She opened her black umbrella. The wind whipped her hair across her face as she walked across the manicured lawn toward the main house.

She pushed open the heavy oak doors.

The grand foyer was dead silent.

The head butler appeared. He took her wet coat. His posture was stiff. Down the hall, a young maid peeked around the corner, whispering furiously to another servant before scurrying away. The subtle shift in the estate's atmosphere was suffocating. His eyes held a strange, uncomfortable pity.

"When does the family trust fund review start tonight?" Juliana asked, unbuttoning her blazer.

The butler looked at the marble floor.

"The meeting has been postponed, Madam. By Master Adelbert's orders."

Juliana froze. Her hand stopped mid-air.

She was the wife. She was supposed to be at that meeting. She had been completely cut out.

Footsteps echoed from the grand staircase.

Two maids hurried down the hallway toward the guest wing. They were carrying stacks of brand-new silk bedsheets.

"Stop," Juliana said. "Are we expecting guests?"

The maids froze. They looked at each other, terrified. They turned to the butler for help.

The butler cleared his throat.

"Master Adelbert arranged for a VIP guest to stay in the east wing, Madam."

Juliana's heart dropped into her stomach. The cold from the rain seeped into her bones.

She knew exactly who the guest was.

She didn't scream. She didn't cry. Three years of living in this house had taught her how to wear a mask.

She nodded slowly.

"I see."

She turned and walked up the sweeping staircase to her bedroom on the second floor.

She pushed the door open. The massive king-sized bed looked like an island in the middle of a cold ocean. The loneliness crushed her chest.

She walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Down below, the iron gates opened again. A black Maybach rolled up the driveway.

Adelbert stepped out. He held a large black umbrella.

He opened the passenger door. He reached his hand out.

A woman in a white trench coat stepped out into the rain. Corrin.

Juliana watched as Adelbert smiled at Corrin. It was a soft, gentle smile. A smile he had never, not once, given to Juliana.

Juliana reached out and grabbed the heavy velvet curtains. She pulled them shut, blocking out the sight.

Juliana didn't sleep.

When the sun came up, she wrapped a thick cashmere shawl around her shoulders and walked down to the glass greenhouse behind the estate.

The air inside was warm and humid. It smelled of wet earth.

She picked up a copper watering can. She walked over to a row of delicate white orchids. They were her late father's favorites.

She focused on the water dripping onto the soil. She tried to slow her racing heart.

The French doors at the far end of the greenhouse clicked open.

The sharp clack of high heels hit the stone path.

Juliana stopped pouring.

Corrin walked down the aisle of plants. She was holding a bone-china coffee cup.

She wasn't wearing her white trench coat anymore. She was wearing an oversized men's dress shirt. Adelbert's shirt.

Juliana's fingers tightened around the handle of the watering can. The metal dug into her skin.

"The orchids are stunning," Corrin said. Her voice was sweet. Too sweet.

Corrin stopped a few feet away. She casually brushed her hair over her shoulder.

The movement exposed her collarbone. A dark red mark rested right against her pale skin.

"Adelbert was so thoughtful last night," Corrin murmured, taking a sip of her coffee. "He made sure the guest room was perfectly heated. He always knows exactly what I need."

Juliana stared at her. Her stomach churned with acid.

"Get out of my greenhouse."

Juliana's voice was dead. Flat.

Corrin's eyes widened. Her bottom lip trembled. She took a step back, looking like a frightened deer.

"I... I just wanted to say good morning. I didn't mean any harm."

Heavy footsteps crunched on the gravel outside.

The greenhouse doors swung open. Adelbert strode in.

He saw Corrin backing away. He saw Juliana holding the heavy metal watering can.

He crossed the room in seconds. He grabbed Corrin's arm and pulled her behind his back, shielding her.

He glared at Juliana. His jaw was tight.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped.

Juliana looked at her husband. He was standing there, protecting the woman who had just mocked her.

Her whole body started to shake.

"Are you blind?" Juliana laughed. It was a harsh, broken sound. "Can't you see she's acting?"

Adelbert stepped forward. He towered over Juliana.

"You are sick," he spat. "Your mind is so twisted, you think everyone is as dirty and manipulative as you are."

Behind him, Corrin grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Adelbert, please," Corrin whispered, her voice shaking. "Don't fight because of me. I'll leave."

Adelbert reached back and squeezed Corrin's hand.

He looked back at Juliana. His eyes were ice.

"The Landry family charity gala is this weekend," Adelbert said coldly. "Corrin will be attending as my plus-one."

Juliana stopped breathing.

The gala was the most important social event of the year. The wife of the Landry heir always stood by his side. It was her right.

"You can't do that," Juliana said through gritted teeth. "The prenuptial agreement states we must maintain a unified public image."

Adelbert sneered.

"Of course. That's all you care about. The title. The money. The image."

He turned his back on her. He wrapped his arm around Corrin's shoulders.

"Let's go inside," he said softly to Corrin.

They walked toward the doors.

Right before they stepped out, Corrin turned her head. She looked over Adelbert's shoulder.

She looked straight at Juliana and smirked. A slow, victorious smile.

The doors clicked shut.

Juliana's fingers went numb.

The copper watering can slipped from her grip. It hit the stone floor with a loud crash. Water splashed everywhere, soaking her shoes.

She dropped to her knees.

She covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook violently, but she didn't make a sound.

Outside the glass walls, a gardener quickly lowered his head and pretended to pull weeds.

Juliana slowly lowered her hands. She wiped her dry eyes.

She stared at the puddle of water on the floor. Her eyes turned hard. Cold.