Five years ago
The ink bled into the crisp white paper like it was alive, angry, final, permanent.
Elena Vales stared down at the divorce documents spread across the long mahogany table. Her name was scrawled in elegant loops beside Alexander Wolfe's sharp, jagged signature. That contrast said everything about their marriage—she loved, he calculated.
"I don't understand," she whispered. Her voice barely echoed in the cold silence of the penthouse.
Alexander didn't flinch.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a tall, unyielding silhouette against the glittering Manhattan skyline. His custom-made suit hugged his frame like armor, the cufflinks she gave him on their wedding day still glinting at his wrists. The ones engraved with her initials.
"Elena." His voice was ice. "We've been over this."
"No, you talked. You made a decision. I was just... handed the paperwork."
"We're done," he said, turning around at last. "You'll receive a generous settlement. A home, an allowance, freedom."
"I don't want freedom," she snapped. "I wanted you."
That flicker of emotion she searched for regret, guilt, anything 7wasn't there. His blue eyes were hard steel.
"This marriage was a mistake."
Her chest cracked open. "Then tell me what I did. Tell me why."
"You became a liability," he said without hesitation. "To the company. To me."
The words hit like bullets.
Elena swayed but stayed on her feet. "Because I refused to be your puppet? Because I asked questions?"
He didn't reply.
She took a trembling step toward him. "I gave you everything, Alexander. My heart. My body. My loyalty. And you—you gave me this?" She slammed her palm on the documents. "A signature and silence?"
He looked at her like she was nothing more than a deal gone bad.
That was when she realized.
He never married her for love.
He married her for control.
And when she stopped being controllable, he cut her loose.
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the sonogram. Small. Black and white. Fragile.
She placed it silently on the table.
"I'm pregnant."
His eyes flicked to the photo but his expression didn't change.
Not shock. Not happiness. Not even anger.
Just calculation.
"That child is mine," he said coldly. "And it will be raised with the Wolfe legacy. Not by a woman who would use it as leverage."
Elena's blood turned to ice. "I'm not using it as leverage."
He turned back to the window. "Leave, Elena. Before I take everything you're trying to protect."
That was the moment something inside her died.
Not just love.
But the naïve girl who believed in it.
She walked out without another word.
She never looked back.
Present Day — Manhattan
The same city skyline blinked outside, but Elena Vales wasn't the same woman who once cried under it.
Her heels clicked across the marble floors of Wolfe Enterprises like they owned them. Her figure was wrapped in a blood-red silk blouse and black pencil skirt. Her hair, once loose and soft, was now tied in a sleek, ruthless knot. And her heart? Armored. Ice-cold.
"Good morning," she said with a smile to the receptionist. "Tell Mr. Wolfe that the CEO of Blackvale Industries is here to finalize the merger."
The woman blinked. "You.... You're Elena Wolfe?"
"No," she replied, her voice laced with steel. "I'm Elena Vales. And I'm not here as a wife. I'm here as a rival."
A few murmured calls later, the private elevator opened, and she was escorted to the executive suite.
The same suite where her soul had once been shattered.
Now? She'd come to burn it to the ground.
Alexander stood when she walked in.
It was instinctive
like his body remembered her before his mind could catch up.
"Elena," he breathed.
She took her time, sauntering across the room like a queen entering enemy territory. Her perfume hit him before her words did jasmine and smoke. Dangerous and unforgettable.
"Hello, Alexander," she said with a cool smile. "It's been... eventful."
His eyes swept over her. She was sharper now. More powerful. She didn't flinch. Didn't look away.
"You own Blackvale?" he asked, disbelief flickering beneath the surface.
"I built it," she corrected. "From scratch. After you left me with nothing but a broken heart and a full womb."
His jaw tightened.
"You should've told me," he said.
She laughed bitterly. "You made it clear you'd weaponize our child the moment you found out. I wasn't giving you another empire to control."
The tension in the room was a living thing now.
"You came here for revenge?" he asked.
"No," she said softly. "I came here to win."
Then, without warning, he moved.
In two strides, he was in front of her, towering over her, the scent of expensive cologne and rage wrapping around her.
"You think this is a game?" he hissed.
"I think you're scared," she replied.
"Of what?"
"That I'm not yours to control anymore."
He gripped her wrist. "You've always been mine, Elena."
She tilted her head, daring. "Then prove it."
And he did.
The kiss was fire and fury, years of rage and unresolved lust erupting in one violent collision. She should've pulled away. Should've slapped him. But her body betrayed her arching into his heat, her mouth opening beneath his, her moan catching in her throat.
His hands found her waist, lifting her onto the glass table like she weighed nothing. Her legs parted, inviting him between them, her hands tugging at his tie as he pressed into her.
"This is a bad idea," he growled against her lips.
"The worst," she gasped, biting his lower lip.
Her blouse was half unbuttoned, her breath ragged, when reality slammed back in.
She shoved him off.
"No," she said, voice shaking with restrained fury. "You don't get to touch me like you still own me."
"Elena—"
She slapped him.
The sound echoed.
"You don't get to want me," she spat. "Not after you broke me."
He stood still, breathing hard, eyes burning.
She fixed her blouse, adjusted her skirt, and turned to leave.
"By the way," she said over her shoulder. "Your empire? I'm coming for it."
And then she was gone.
He stood there alone.
Heart pounding.
Hard.
Haunted.
And utterly unprepared for what Elena Vales had become.