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