The Jilted Ex-Wife's Lethal Comeback

The antique grandfather clock against the far wall ticked.

Eleven-thirty.

Audrey Chaney sat at the end of the three-meter mahogany dining table. The silence in the Manhattan penthouse was heavy enough to crush her lungs.

She stared at the plate in front of her. The beef Wellington was ice cold. The pastry had congealed into a sad, greasy shell.

A sharp ding echoed from the private elevator.

Audrey's pulse jumped. She immediately stood up, her hands smoothing down the sides of her silk dress. Her chest tightened with a desperate, pathetic flare of hope.

The polished metal doors slid open.

It wasn't her husband.

Genevieve Savage stepped out. Kingston's mother wore a tailored Chanel suit, her sharp heels clicking against the Italian marble floor in a slow, rhythmic threat. Right behind her was Brenda, the head maid, carrying a small silver tray.

Genevieve stopped at the edge of the dining room. Her cold eyes swept over the table. She looked at the two heart-shaped candles burning in the center.

She let out a harsh, scraping sneer.

Audrey swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She lowered her chin, forcing her hands to unclench at her sides.

"Mother," Audrey said softly.

Genevieve didn't acknowledge the greeting. She walked right up to Audrey, her gaze dragging up and down Audrey's body like she was inspecting a defective piece of machinery.

"Look at you," Genevieve said, her voice dripping with venom. "Sitting here like a useless ornament. You contribute absolutely nothing to this family."

Brenda stepped forward. She extended the silver tray.

On it sat a glass of warm water and two small, white pills.

"Take your premium vitamins," Genevieve ordered.

They weren't vitamins. Audrey knew exactly what they were. They were high-grade sedatives. Genevieve's personal prescription to ensure her lowborn daughter-in-law remained docile, quiet, and perfectly submissive.

Audrey's stomach violently cramped. Acid burned the back of her throat.

"My stomach hurts tonight," Audrey whispered, her fingers trembling as she gripped the edge of the table. "I don't think I should-"

"You will take them," Genevieve snapped. The air in the room dropped ten degrees. "Do not forget where you came from, Audrey. The only reason you are allowed to breathe the air in a Savage property is because you are obedient. Do not test me."

Brenda didn't wait for Audrey to reach out. The maid grabbed Audrey's wrist and shoved the glass into her hand.

Water sloshed over the rim. It soaked into the bodice of Audrey's carefully chosen silk dress, leaving a dark, ugly stain over her ribs.

Genevieve's eyes bored into her. Waiting.

Audrey's chest heaved. The humiliation burned hot behind her eyes, but the fear of being thrown back into the gutter was stronger. She picked up the two white pills. She placed them on her tongue.

She drank the water. The bitter chalk coated her throat as she forced them down.

Genevieve let out a satisfied hum.

"Don't flatter yourself, Audrey," Genevieve said, turning her back. "Cheap candles