Too Late For Regret: The Ruthless Wife

Cora pushed open the glass doors of the marketing department. Her expensive heels stopped dead on the polished concrete floor.

A massive wall of congratulatory floral arrangements blocked her path. The overpowering stench of lilies and imported orchids hit her nose, making her stomach churn.

Ms. Perkins, the receptionist, rushed forward. Her face was stretched into a tight, desperate smile. She held out a crystal flute of expensive champagne.

"Congratulations on the acquisition, Ms. Sawyer!" Ms. Perkins chirped, her voice trembling slightly.

Cora stared at the glass. She didn't take it. Her fingers twitched at her sides. She shoved past the receptionist without a word.

The open-plan office was dead silent. Dozens of employees stared at her. Their eyes were wide, filled with a sickening mixture of awe and fear. They shrank back against their cubicles as she walked past.

A cold knot formed in the pit of Cora's stomach. Her pulse accelerated, hammering against her ribs.

She didn't stop at her desk. She marched straight down the hallway toward the CEO's office. Her heels slammed into the carpet like hammer strikes.

She grabbed the heavy oak handle and shoved the double doors open. They hit the walls with a loud crack.

Mr. Sterling sat behind his massive mahogany desk. He was in the middle of a video conference. When the doors crashed open, his entire body jerked. He scrambled for the mouse and slammed the laptop shut.

Cora walked up to his desk. She grabbed the thick, cream-colored folder sitting right in front of him. The bold letters read: Notice of Appointment: Chief Executive Officer.

She slammed the folder back down onto the desk. The sound echoed in the large room.

"Who did this?" Cora demanded. Her voice was low, but it cut through the air like a razor.

Sterling wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. He couldn't meet her eyes.

"Ms. Sawyer," Sterling stammered, his throat clicking as he swallowed. "The company... we were acquired late last night. A full buyout. Phoenix Capital owns everything now."

The blood drained from Cora's face. The name hit her like a physical blow to the chest. Her lungs tightened.

Phoenix Capital.

Claudia.

Cora snatched the keys to the company car off Sterling's desk. She turned on her heel and headed for the door.

"Ms. Sawyer, wait! We have transition meetings-" Sterling called out, his voice panicky.

Cora stopped in the doorway. She looked over her shoulder. Her eyes were dead, completely devoid of emotion. Sterling froze, his mouth snapping shut.

She walked out of the building and hit the Manhattan pavement.

The sky had broken open. Heavy, freezing rain poured down. Cora ripped the collar of her trench coat open, desperate for air. Her chest heaved.

She didn't bother looking for an umbrella. She stepped right into the flooded street and threw her hand up. A yellow taxi swerved and slammed on its brakes, splashing dirty water against her shins.

Cora yanked the door open and slid into the back seat. The freezing rain soaked through her clothes, chilling her skin, but it finally cleared the fog in her head.

"Phoenix Capital Headquarters," Cora snapped.

The driver looked at her through the rearview mirror. He scowled at the puddle forming on his leather seats. "Lady, you're ruining my-"

Cora opened her soaked designer bag. Her fingers bypassed the useless credit cards, digging into a hidden compartment. She pulled out a crumpled hundred-dollar bill-her only remaining cash-and threw it over the plastic partition. It landed on the passenger seat.

The driver shut his mouth, threw the car into drive, and slammed on the gas.

The taxi weaved through the gridlocked Manhattan traffic. The neon signs blurred through the rain-streaked window. Cora clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached.

She remembered the suffocating weight of her sister's control. Every school, every degree, every martial arts instructor. Claudia had orchestrated her entire life like a military campaign.

The taxi jerked to a halt. Cora shoved the door open. She took the marble steps of the Phoenix Capital building two at a time.

She walked through the revolving doors. A massive security guard stepped into her path, holding up a hand.

"Ma'am, you need an appointment to-"

"My last name is Sawyer," Cora said. Her voice was ice.

The guard's eyes widened. He immediately stepped back and lowered his head.

Cora bypassed the reception desk and walked straight to the private executive elevator. She hit the button for the top floor.

The doors slid open. She marched down the silent, carpeted hallway. The executive assistant stood up from her desk, her eyes wide with panic.

"Ms. Sawyer, she's in a-"

Cora shoved the assistant out of the way. She grabbed the handles of the double doors and threw them open.

The penthouse office was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering Manhattan skyline.

Claudia stood by the glass. She held a martini glass in her right hand. She turned around slowly. A perfect, condescending smile played on her red lips.

"You ruined my life," Cora spat. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. Her fingernails dug into her palms.

Claudia took a slow sip of her drink. She looked at Cora like she was a stray dog that had wandered into a palace.

"Your life was a waste of time," Claudia said. Her voice was smooth, completely unaffected by Cora's rage. "Playing an ordinary office worker? It's pathetic."

Claudia walked slowly toward the massive desk. Her heels clicked rhythmically against the hardwood floor.

"The heir to the Sawyer empire does not rot in a middle-management cubicle," Claudia stated. She looked down her nose at Cora.

"I don't need your money," Cora snarled. Her chest burned with anger. "I don't need anything from this family."

Claudia let out a short, dry laugh. She picked up a thick legal document from her desk and tossed it across the polished wood. It slid and stopped right in front of Cora.

"Read it," Claudia commanded.

Cora looked down. The bold print at the top made her stomach drop. Asset Freeze and Account Suspension Agreement.

Every independent bank account she had built. Every trust she had accessed. All of it. Gone.

A wave of pure, blinding rage washed over Cora. Her hands shook violently. She grabbed the thick stack of papers. She ripped them in half, then in quarters. She threw the shredded pieces into the air. They rained down on the desk like snow.

Claudia didn't blink. She watched the paper fall.

"Stop throwing tantrums, Cora," Claudia said softly. "You have no money. You have no job. Come back and take your place."

Cora took a deep, ragged breath. She wanted to flip the heavy desk over. She wanted to wrap her hands around her sister's throat.

"In your dreams," Cora whispered.

She turned around and walked out, slamming the heavy doors behind her.

An hour later, Cora unlocked the door to her small Brooklyn apartment. She was exhausted. Her muscles ached. She dropped her wet coat on the floor and collapsed onto the cheap fabric sofa.

She stared at the ceiling. Her chest felt incredibly tight. She was trapped.

She sat up and looked at the coffee table. A sleek, black package sat in the center. There was no return address.

Cora ripped the tape off. Inside was a high-tech VR headset. It looked like a sleek, black visor. A small white card rested on top of it.

The ultimate escape from reality.

Cora stared at it. It had Claudia's fingerprints all over it. It was probably some twisted psychological test.

But her head was throbbing. Her bank accounts were empty. The walls of her apartment felt like they were closing in on her.

Cora grabbed the headset. She didn't care what it was. She just needed the world to stop for a few hours.

She slid the visor over her eyes and pressed the power button on the side.

A low hum vibrated against her temples. Then, her vision went completely black.

The darkness was absolute.

Suddenly, a sharp, metallic electronic voice echoed inside Cora's skull.

System initializing.

A violent sensation of weightlessness hit her. Cora's stomach lurched into her throat. She felt like she was falling from a ten-story building.

She gasped and her eyes snapped open.

Blinding light stabbed into her pupils. She squeezed her eyes shut and threw her hand up to shield her face. Her breathing was shallow and fast.

Slowly, she lowered her hand and squinted. A massive, ostentatious crystal chandelier hung directly above her.

She was lying on a bed. The mattress was incredibly soft, almost suffocating. She looked around. The room was huge, decorated in a heavy, oppressive Victorian style. Dark wood, thick velvet curtains, and gold accents everywhere.

Suddenly, a spike of pure agony drove through her temples.

Cora grabbed her head. She gritted her teeth to stop herself from screaming. Memories that didn't belong to her ripped through her brain.

Heloise Vance.

That was her name now. She saw flashes of a miserable life. A husband who smelled like cheap perfume and alcohol. A mother-in-law who spat insults daily. A life spent looking at the floor, apologizing for breathing.

The pain slowly faded, leaving a dull throbbing behind her eyes.

Cora pushed the heavy silk duvet off her body. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her bare feet hit the cold, intricate Persian rug.

She stood up. The room spun for a second. She steadied herself and walked toward the massive vanity mirror across the room. She gripped the cold marble edge of the table and stared at her reflection.

Cora sucked in a sharp breath.

The face looking back at her was a stranger. Pale skin, dark circles under terrified eyes, and a weak, trembling jawline. She looked exhausted and broken.

Cora raised her hand and pinched her own cheek, hard.

The sharp sting of pain radiated across her skin. Her heart hammered against her ribs. This wasn't a dream. The physical sensations were too real. The cold marble, the soft rug, the pain in her face.

She let go of the vanity and opened the top drawer.

A large, orange prescription bottle sat inside. Cora picked it up. Heavy antidepressants. The label had Heloise's name on it. She tossed the bottle back into the drawer with a look of disgust.

She opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand. A small leather diary lay hidden under a stack of tissues. It had a cheap metal combination lock on it.

Cora rummaged through the top drawer of the vanity, her eyes scanning a pile of useless hair accessories. She finally found an old, bent bobby pin hidden in the corner of a cheap jewelry box. She shoved the metal tip into the lock, twisted her wrist, and popped it open in three seconds.

She flipped through the pages. The handwriting was shaky. Page after page of desperate pleas. Fear of her husband, Leland. Terror of her mother-in-law.

Cora's upper lip curled into a sneer. She slammed the book shut.

Get me out of here, Cora demanded in her mind.

Silence.

System. End simulation.

The cold, metallic voice echoed in her head again.

Logout denied. You must complete the counterattack mission to exit the simulation.

Cora let out a harsh, bitter laugh.

Claudia. This was exactly the kind of sick, expensive, immersive torture her sister would design. A forced psychological stress test.

Cora's fear vanished, instantly replaced by a cold, calculating rage. If Claudia wanted to play games, Cora would burn this virtual house to the ground.

She straightened her spine. The weak, trembling posture of Heloise Vance disappeared. Cora's eyes hardened, turning into shards of ice.

She walked over to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. She grabbed the heavy velvet curtains and yanked them apart.

Blinding morning sunlight flooded the dark room.

Outside, a sprawling, manicured estate stretched out as far as she could see. Cora stared down at the perfect lawns. She was going to tear this family apart piece by piece.

She turned and walked into the walk-in closet.

Row after row of dull, conservative dresses hung on the racks. Grays, browns, high collars. The wardrobe of a victim.

Cora grabbed handfuls of the ugly fabric and ripped them off the hangers, throwing them onto the floor in a massive pile.

In the very back corner, she found a sleek, black silk robe. She pulled it on and tied the belt tightly around her waist.

Suddenly, the heavy, rhythmic thud of angry footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.

Cora stopped moving. She tilted her head, listening. The footsteps were heavy, fast, and completely lacking in hesitation. Someone was coming to pick a fight.

The brass doorknob rattled violently. The metal scraped loudly as someone tried to force it open.

Cora crossed her arms over her chest. She stood dead center in the middle of the bedroom. She stared at the heavy mahogany door. Her breathing was perfectly even.

Bang.

The door was kicked open. It slammed against the wall, shaking the frame.

An older woman stormed into the room. She was dripping in heavy gold jewelry. Her face was pulled tight with anger, her lips painted a harsh, blood red.

This was Marge. The mother-in-law.

Marge stopped in her tracks. She looked at Cora standing in the middle of the room. A flicker of confusion crossed Marge's face. Heloise usually hid under the covers when she entered.

But the confusion only lasted a second. Marge's habitual arrogance took over. She opened her red mouth, her eyes flashing with malice.

Cora didn't flinch. She slightly raised her chin and looked down at the older woman. Her eyes were completely dead, filled with absolute, chilling contempt.

"You lazy, ungrateful bitch!" Marge shrieked. Specks of spit flew from her red lips. "It is eight in the morning! Why isn't breakfast on the table?"

Cora wrinkled her nose in disgust. She tilted her head slightly to the left, letting the spit fly past her face. She looked at Marge like she was a rotting piece of meat.

Marge's face turned purple. She wasn't used to being ignored. She raised her hand high in the air, her heavy gold rings catching the light, and swung her palm toward Cora's face.

Cora's muscle memory took over.

Her left hand shot out like a viper. She clamped her fingers around Marge's wrist, stopping the slap inches from her cheek.

Marge gasped. She tried to yank her arm back, but Cora's grip was like a steel vice.

Cora didn't change her expression. She twisted her wrist sharply downward, putting intense, grinding pressure on the joint.

A sharp, sickening crackle of strained ligaments echoed in the room. Marge let out a blood-curdling scream. Her knees buckled instantly, and she crashed onto the Persian rug, cradling her injured wrist against her chest.

Cora looked down at the woman kneeling before her.

"Move again," Cora whispered, her voice dangerously soft, "and I will shatter it completely."

Heavy, frantic footsteps pounded down the hallway.

Leland rushed into the bedroom. He was only wearing his suit trousers and an undershirt. His face was puffy from sleep and alcohol.

He stopped dead when he saw his mother kneeling on the floor, screaming in pain, while his wife stood over her holding her wrist.

Leland's face turned a violent shade of red. The veins in his neck bulged.

"You crazy bitch!" Leland roared. He lunged forward, pulling his right arm back. He threw a heavy, uncoordinated punch straight at Cora's head.

Cora released Marge's wrist. She didn't step back. She stepped inside his guard.

She ducked smoothly under his swinging fist. As Leland's momentum carried him forward, Cora dropped her weight and swung her right leg out in a brutal sweep.

Her shin slammed into Leland's ankle.

Leland yelled as his feet were ripped out from under him. His massive body crashed onto the floor. The impact shook the furniture.

Before he could even process what happened, Cora stepped forward. She planted the heel of her bare foot directly onto the center of his chest. She pressed down hard, pinning him to the floor.

Marge scrambled backward, still clutching her wrist, until her back hit the wall. She pointed a trembling finger at Cora with her good hand.

"I'm calling the police!" Marge babbled, her chest heaving, tears of pain and fury streaming down her face. "You're going to jail!"

Cora let out a short, cold laugh. She shifted her weight, pressing her heel deeper into Leland's sternum.

Leland's eyes bulged. He choked, his hands clawing uselessly at Cora's ankle. He couldn't draw a breath.

Cora leaned down. She patted Leland's red, sweating cheek.

"Stay out of my way, Leland," Cora said. Her voice was calm, almost conversational. "Or next time, I'll break your neck."

She lifted her foot off his chest. She stepped back and wiped the bottom of her foot on the silk bedsheets, looking thoroughly disgusted.

Leland gasped for air, coughing violently. He scrambled backward across the floor, pressing himself against his mother. He looked at Cora with pure terror in his eyes.

But his fragile male ego couldn't handle the humiliation. He rubbed his chest and glared at her.

"You think you're tough?" Leland spat, his voice raspy. "I'll cut off the payments. Your brother's medical bills? Gone. Let the little freak die."

Cora felt absolutely nothing. Heloise's brother meant nothing to her. But her brain instantly calculated the situation. She needed them to think they still had leverage.

Cora narrowed her eyes, faking a flash of panic.

Leland saw it and smiled, a nasty, triumphant grin spreading across his face.

"That's right," Leland sneered, gaining his confidence back. "You're going to put on a dress, and you're going to come to Veronica's wedding tomorrow. You will smile, and you will play the perfect wife. Or your brother is dead."

Cora's mind raced. A high-society wedding. The entire Vance family would be there-though the press and social circles still insisted on using the matriarchal empire's name, Mercer. It was a relic of old money branding, but for Cora, it was the perfect place to gather intel and map out the power dynamics of her enemies.

"Fine," Cora said coldly.

She turned her back on them and walked straight into the master bathroom. She didn't look back.

She slammed the heavy bathroom door shut, cutting off Leland's voice.

Outside, she could hear Marge whining and demanding Leland call the family doctor.

Cora walked over to the marble sink. She turned the silver handles. Freezing cold water blasted out of the faucet. She cupped her hands and splashed the ice water onto her face.

She grabbed a thick towel and patted her skin dry. She looked at herself in the mirror. The terrified Heloise was gone. A predator looked back at her.

A sharp ping echoed in her mind.

Achievement unlocked: Physical Deterrence. Plot deviation increased by 10%.

Cora dropped the towel onto the marble counter. She stared at her reflection, a cruel smile touching the corners of her mouth.

Tomorrow, the Vance family was going to have a very memorable wedding.