The Vengeful Ex-Wife's High Society Comeback

The brass elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

Corinne's fingers clamped down on the cuff of Justus's custom-tailored suit. She squeezed until her knuckles turned a stark, bone-white.

Justus tilted his head. He offered her a single, reassuring look. Then, he stepped forward, pulling her with him.

Her stiletto heels struck the polished marble floor. A sharp, echoing crack.

The low hum of social chatter in the Manhattan penthouse died. It didn't fade. It was severed, like someone had ripped the power cord from the wall. Every pair of eyes in the massive room snapped to the entrance.

Corinne lifted her chin. She forced her lips to curve into a flawless, practiced smile. The heavy velvet of her dark gown swayed against her legs with every calculated step. She radiated absolute control.

A collective, shallow gasp rippled through the crowd. People recognized the face that had vanished from this city six years ago.

Across the room, Corwin stood with a group of investors. He was in the middle of a toast. At the sound of the whispers carrying her name, his entire body locked up. The champagne in his crystal flute sloshed over the rim, spilling onto his fingers.

Evelina had her hands wrapped around Corwin's arm. She felt the sudden, violent tightening of the muscles beneath his jacket. Her eyes darkened instantly, tracking his line of sight.

Justus didn't stop at the edge of the room. He guided Corinne straight toward the center of the floor. He placed her right in the absolute focal point of Corwin's vision. There was nowhere for her ex-husband to look away.

Corinne caught the shape of that tall, broad-shouldered figure in her peripheral vision. Her stomach violently contracted. Her heart skipped a painful beat against her ribs. But her legs kept moving, each step a victory of iron will over instinct, steady and rhythmic.

Justus halted them exactly five paces away from Corwin. A slow, mocking smirk pulled at the corner of Justus's mouth. He was the first to slice through the suffocating silence.

"Good evening, Maxwell."

Corwin turned his body. The movement was agonizingly slow. His dark, bottomless eyes pinned Corinne to the spot. His jaw was clenched so tight the bone looked ready to snap through his skin.

Corinne met his stare. She didn't look away. Instead, she let a perfectly measured flash of panic widen her eyes.

Evelina stepped forward, physically inserting her body between Corwin and Corinne. She stretched her lips into a tight, bloodless smile and forced out a single word.

"You."

Justus slid his hand around Corinne's waist. The heat of his palm bled through the thin mesh fabric of her dress. It was a silent anchor.

Corwin's gaze dropped from Corinne's face. His eyes locked onto Justus's hand resting on her waist. A dark, violent storm brewed in his pupils. His breathing shifted, turning shallow and rigid.

The socialites surrounding them began to whisper frantically. Their eyes darted between the four of them, hungry