Miracle In Prison: 100 Days to Destroy her Ex-Husband

Inside my private dressing room, I finally let myself breathe. I stood before the vanity mirror and touched the heavy crystal Prosecutor of the Year award. At twenty-eight, I was the youngest chief prosecutor in the city’s history. I had just locked up the region's most dangerous crime boss, and I had done it all while looking completely flawless in an emerald evening gown. A pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind. Julian, my handsome husband, pressed a soft kiss to my neck. "Look at you," he whispered, his voice full of pride. "The brilliant Vivian Vance. You put away a cartel and didn't even break a sweat. I could see the terror in their eyes from the front row." I turned around in his arms and smiled. "I couldn't have done any of this without you holding down the fort at home, Julian. This award belongs to both of us." Julian smiled back and handed me a glass of champagne. We clinked our glasses together. "To your brilliant mind, my love," he said softly.

The freezing salt spray of the ocean slapped against my face, instantly washing away the grime of the prison transport van. I huddled in the back of the sleek, black speedboat as it sliced through the midnight waves. Behind me, the distant, imposing watchtowers of Blackwood Maximum Security Prison faded into the heavy rain. I was out. My heart hammered against my ribs, not just from the thrill of the escape, but from the terrifying realization of what came next. The countdown clock on the encrypted smartphone in my hand glowed a fierce, mocking red: 99:23:45:12. I had already lost fifteen minutes. The boat slipped into a private, hidden cove tucked away beneath a cliffside mansion on the edge of the city’s most exclusive coastal district. The engines died, humming softly as two silent, muscular men in black tactical gear helped me onto the wooden dock. They didn’t say a word. They simply pointed toward a heavy steel elevator built directly into the rock face. When the

The VIP charity auction hall was a sea of glittering silk, high-end tuxedos, and quiet, immense wealth. White-gloved waiters drifted between the circular tables, filling crystal glasses with champagne that cost more than a prison guard’s monthly salary.I sat at the center table, the gold-plated belt of my midnight-blue gown catching the light. Julian sat directly to my right, leaning in close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne. To my left sat Silas Vance, his expression completely unreadable, radiating a cold, calm authority that made Julian visibly tense."The bidding tonight is for an excellent cause, Baroness," Julian said, his voice smooth and eager. He was trying hard to project the image of a generous, successful billionaire. "All proceeds go to the city's historical restoration fund. I always make it a point to give back to the community.""How touching," I replied, using my slow, aristocratic European accent. I didn't look at him; instead, I swirling the champagn

"Is he here?" I asked again, because Silas hadn't moved, and the silence was worse than any answer. "Do you want him to be?" The question landed like a slap. I stepped back before I could stop myself, putting the desk between us. "Excuse me?" "You heard me." His eyes were flat now, unreadable, all that heat from a minute ago gone cold and locked away somewhere I couldn't reach. "You spent the whole night on his arm. Maybe some part of you likes it." "Don't be ridiculous." The words came out too fast, too loud, and I hated how defensive I sounded even as I said them. "I despise that man. Every second I spend near him makes my skin crawl." "Then it shouldn't bother you either way." "It doesn't." "Good." He looked at me a moment longer, something dark and unreadable moving behind his eyes, and then he turned for the door without another word. He didn't slam it. He didn't need to. The quiet click of the latch said everything his voice hadn't. I stood there in my damp robe, staring

"What do you think you were doing?" Silas asked, his voice flat and cold.I froze just inside the doorway, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind me. My hand instinctively tightened around the thin paper folder Julian had given me. I tried to look relaxed, throwing my shoulders back to channel Veronica's arrogant posture."I was doing my job, Silas," I said, keeping my voice even. "I was setting the trap.""You were playing with fire," Silas said.Before I could even take a step to hide the document behind my back, he moved. He was too fast. In two large strides, he closed the distance between us. His fingers locked around my wrist with a grip like iron, and with his other hand, he easily slid the folder out of my grasp."Explain what this is," Silas demanded, holding the folder up between us. "Now."I cursed Ivan in my mind. The silent driver must have called Silas the second he saw me talking to Julian on the street. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but no words came out. I coul