While I Was Bleeding Out, He Lit Lanterns For Her

As I lay on the floor of our manor, bleeding out from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I used my last ounce of strength to call my husband, Cole. I begged him for help, my vision blurring. But the only thing I heard was the clinking of champagne glasses and his mistress's giggle in the background. "Stop the drama, June," Cole snapped, his voice cold. "We're about to go on stage. Don't call again." He hung up, leaving me to die alone on the Persian rug while he accepted an award with another woman on his arm. I woke up in the hospital days later. My baby was gone. They had removed my fallopian tube. Cole finally arrived, smelling of expensive scotch and his mistress's perfume. He didn't hug me. He didn't cry. Instead, he leaned over my hospital bed, pressing his knee into the mattress until my fresh stitches tore open and bled. "You embarrassed me by calling an ambulance," he hissed. "My mistress, Alycia, says you're faking it. Clean yourself up." He left me bleeding again to go announce a $10 million donation to Alycia's "groundbreaking" medical research. I stared at the TV screen, numb. The research Alycia was taking credit for? It was mine. I wrote that patent years ago under a pseudonym. They thought I was just a poor, orphan housewife who needed Cole's money to survive. They had no idea I was actually a billionaire scientist hiding my identity. I pulled the IV needle out of my arm. A drop of blood fell onto the divorce papers I had been hiding. I didn't wipe it off. I signed my name right over it. Then I walked into the bank, reactivated my dormant account with $128 million, and bought the penthouse directly overlooking Cole's house. The mourning widow is dead. The avenger is born.

Chapters

Chapter 7

The interior of Bergdorf Goodman on Fifth Avenue was a sanctuary of wealth.

June needed clothes. She needed armor for the meeting tonight and the corporate battles she was about to wage.

She walked into the high-end designer boutique on the third floor. Her eyes landed on a stunning, razor-sharp black velvet evening gown. It was ruthless and elegant.

Just as June reached out to touch the fabric, another hand shot out and grabbed the hanger.

"Oh, this is perfect for the charity gala tomorrow night," a sickeningly sweet voice chirped.

June turned her head.

Alycia was standing there, clinging tightly to Cole's arm.

Cole's eyes locked onto June. For a split second, a flash of surprise and undeniable attraction crossed his face. June looked different-her posture was straight, her aura commanding. But the attraction quickly morphed into deep annoyance.

"What are you doing here, June?" Cole demanded, his voice hard. "Are you stalking us?"

Alycia gasped, putting a hand over her mouth in fake shock. "June! I didn't see you. But... this dress is five thousand dollars. Are you sure you're in the right store?"

Cole adjusted his cuffs, looking at June with pity. "Stop embarrassing yourself, June. I cut off your cards this morning. You can't afford a pair of socks in this building."

The sales associate, a tall woman with a severe bun, stepped forward. She looked at Cole's custom suit, then at June's plain coat. The bias was immediate.

"Excuse me, miss," the associate said to June, her tone dripping with condescension. "That piece is a limited edition. If you aren't purchasing, please refrain from touching the velvet. It damages easily."

June let her hand drop, a cool, unbothered expression on her face. She simply watched them.

Cole let out a harsh laugh. "See? She knows she can't afford it. Don't expect me to bail you out when you try to shoplift."

Alycia tugged on Cole's sleeve, pouting. "Cole, I really want it. Please?"

Cole pulled out his solid gold credit card and handed it to the associate. "Ring it up for Alycia."

As the associate took the card, Cole shot June a final, triumphant smirk. "This is how real money works, June. Maybe you'll learn one day." He wrapped an arm around Alycia, guiding her toward the exit. "Let's go, darling. We've wasted enough time here."

June waited until the sound of their laughter faded down the hall. Then, she turned back to the associate, who was walking toward the register.

"Excuse me," June said quietly.

The associate turned, annoyed. "What is it now?"

June's expression remained entirely blank. She reached into her purse, pulled out the titanium Centurion black card between her index and middle finger, and held it out.

The associate looked at the black card. Her eyes widened so drastically she looked like she was choking. The arrogant posture vanished instantly, replaced by a trembling, terrified bow.

"A... a Centurion," the associate stammered, her hands shaking as she carefully took the card from June. "My deepest apologies, Miss... My apologies. How may I help you?"

June's gaze swept over the entire boutique.

"That dress he was about to buy. And that one. That one. And the entire row of suits. I'll take them all. Have them delivered to my penthouse on Billionaires' Row."

The associate's jaw dropped. She nodded frantically, rushing to countermand the previous sale and gather the items.

A few minutes later, the associate returned, handing the card and a receipt to June with both hands. "Thank you for your purchase, ma'am. It will all be delivered within the hour."

Outside on Fifth Avenue, June took a deep breath of the freezing air. Using her own money to quietly erase their victory felt better than any shouting match.

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