ling windows of the master bedroom, casting har

a dull ache behind hi

jamas. She was wearing a sharp, tailored black busin

propping himself

d a thick manila folder down onto the mahogany ni

lous jewelry invoices she wanted him to pay since her cards were declin

Her voice was completely devoid

d up to her face, turning instantly hostile. He hated ultimatum

ce a smooth, icy blade. "The position of Mrs. Mont

ht. Don't get greedy. He wanted the wife f

reached out and pushed the folde

oss the cover were three words

ters. His pupils contracted violen

cruel smirk. He tossed the folder back

all the stops for attenti

ialite. Without her family trust and his black cards, she wouldn't su

't scream. S

he pulled out a heavy Montblanc fountain pen

r voice was so quiet, so terrify

unfamiliar wave of cold dread washed over him, an unwel

ay. The pen clattered

he snapped. He threw the blankets off, stood up

shower turned on, the rushing w

econd. A bitter, self-deprec

orce papers back into her bag. She turned around

phone. She dialed the number for the mo

receptionist, her tone strictly business. "I am

the massive, cold penthouse o

p navy suit. He adjusted his tie as he walked toward the dining room, exp

ng room

er favorite coats were gone. Her car

id stepped inside to deli

en interrupted him, his v

wed hard. "Sir... the tracker shows Mrs. Montgomery's Porsche

tly relaxed. A smug, arrog

ized she had pushed too far with the fake divorc

s. He stepped into the private elevator. H