My husband called to tell me he was locked in a grueling legal deposition. His tone sounded drained, composed, even affectionate—the exact tone I had relied on for ten years. But at that precise second, I was standing on the observation bridge above Concourse E, watching him kiss another woman at the first-class check-in desk.

The next morning, I wore a tailored white suit and a pair of red-soled Louboutins. I didn't look like the quiet, accommodating housewife who baked cookies for firm parties. I looked like the apex predator I was born to be.

I walked into the glass-walled boardroom of Sterling & Hayes at 9:00 AM sharp.

The three senior partners were already there, sweating through their expensive shirts. Arthur stood at the head of the table, holding a thick dossier.

"Gentlemen," Arthur announced as I walked in. "I believe you know Victoria. Though you probably know her best as the sole benefactor of Vanguard Equity."

Richard Hayes, the managing partner, looked like he was about to have a heart attack. "Victoria... you own Vanguard? We had no idea."

"Of course you didn't, Richard," I said, taking a seat. "I wanted David to feel accomplished. So I funneled thirty million dollars of corporate legal work into this firm just to ensure his name went on the door. But it seems David has been very busy prioritizing his personal life over his billable hours."

"We fired him this morning," Richard said frantically. "The moment Arthur called, we held a vote. David is terminated. His equity is being liquidated to cover his firm debts. Please, Victoria, don't pull Vanguard. It would bankrupt us."

I smiled, steepling my fingers. "I will leave Vanguard's accounts here on one condition."

"Anything."