Preparing to dump the scumbags

RAYNA

Right on cue the door swung open.

Michael stood in the doorway. He was wearing his tailored suit, calmly adjusting the silver links at his wrists. His eyes swept across the room—taking in the shattered perfume bottles pooling on the floor, Lily gasping on her side, and me standing over her with my daughter pressed against my leg.

He frowned, his mouth twisting into a hard, irritated line.

"What is this, Rayna?" he asked. His voice was flat, dripping with the quiet authority he used when an employee made a mistake at his office.

Lily dragged herself up onto her knees, tears streaming down her face, her chest heaving. 

"Michael..." she sobbed, clutching at her stomach. "Michael... she tried to kill me! I just came in to ask her a question... and she kicked me!"

Michael didn't look at me. He didn't ask what happened. He stepped straight over the broken glass, reached down, and hauled Lily up by her elbow. The second she was on her feet, Lily buried her face in his chest, her arms locking around his waist.

Michael wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. His hand slid down her back, resting naturally on her waist, his fingers rubbing slow, comforting circles into her hip.

They didn't even realize how natural it looked.

Standing there, watching the way his body bent toward hers, a wave of cold disgust washed over me.

In my past life, I was so blind. I had forced myself to ignore every single red flag. I had swallowed his excuses about her being a "fragile, needy stepsister." 

I had spent five years washing their dishes, scrubbing their floors, cutting her toenails, and cooking their meals like a silent slave, while they slept together in my house, using my money to fund their affair. I had lowered myself into the dirt for them, and because I made myself dirt, my daughter had suffered right alongside me.

A short, sharp sneer escaped my lips. Michael’s head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. 

"What is wrong with you?"

I looked him dead in the eyes, my voice dropping into an icy register. 

"Yes. Something is definitely wrong with me—otherwise I wouldn't have spent the last five years acting as your free maid." Michael’s jaw clenched tight. 

"What did you just say to me?"

He took a step forward, his hand rising, his face darkening with sudden rage.

"Michael... it hurts so bad..." Lily whimpered, clutching his suit jacket tighter and squeezing out fresh tears into his collar. "My stomach..."

Michael stopped instantly. The anger on his face melted back into soft concern. He gently patted her back, stroking her hair.

"It's okay. I've got you," he whispered to her. Then he turned his gaze back to me, his mouth curled in total contempt.

 "You want to act like a crazy woman? Fine. I was going to take you to the charity auction tonight, but you don't deserve to step foot outside this room. Stay here and think about what you've done."

He looked down at Lily, his voice instantly turning warm and indulgent.

 "Come on, Lily. Let's get you out of here. I'll take you to the auction instead and buy you whatever jewelry you want to make you feel better."

"Really?" Lily sniffled, looking up through her lashes. "Anything?"

"Anything," Michael promised softly.

He kept his arm locked firmly around her waist, guiding her down the corridor. Their hushed, tender voices floated back through the open doorway until the heavy front door clicked shut.

Silence fell over the room.

I stared at the empty doorway. There was no sadness left in me. No heartbreak. Watching them leave only confirmed the cold truth: there was never any marriage between us. I was just a target, and he was a bloody parasite.

I turned around. Sera was sitting on the edge of the bed, her small feet dangling off the mattress, her big brown eyes watching me in total silence.

I walked over, dropped to my knees, and gently smoothed her hair back. "Mommy is here, baby. Nobody is ever going to make us hurt again."

I pulled out my phone and dialed Mike.

In my previous life, Mike—my personal financial manager—had practically begged me on his knees not to dump my capital into Michael's hands. As a hidden investor, I held thousands  of millions in private holdings, but I had ignored Mike's warnings, blindly handing my wealth over to a scumbag until Sera and I were left with nothing.

The call connected on the second ring.

"Rayna?" Mike answered, his voice instantly tight with frustration.

 "Look, if you're calling to approve another cash transfer for Michael's company, save your breath. His firm is a black hole. He's bleeding you dry."

"Mike," I said, my voice dead silent. 

"How much liquid cash do I have left across all my accessible accounts?"

"Not much," Mike sighed heavily, the sound of papers rustling through the speaker. 

"You've tied up almost everything in Michael's corporate accounts. What you have left in liquid cash isn't even enough to make a dent in a major project."

Not enough. It wasn't even enough to buy a fraction of the food, fuel, and medical supplies needed to survive the extreme cold.

"Withdraw all my investments from Michael's company," I ordered. "Pull every single dollar back today."

There was absolute silence on the line.

"What?" Mike asked cautiously, as if he thought he was dreaming. "Did you just say pull out?"

"I said drain his accounts," I repeated, word for word. 

"Revoke all financial backing. Cancel every credit line under my name. I want my money out of his hands before sunset."

A loud, breathless gasp erupted from the speaker, followed by the sound of Mike slamming his hand down on his desk in pure victory.

"Hallelujah!" Mike shouted, his voice shaking with joy. 

"You finally woke up! I will fire off the legal freeze and clawback notices right now! His company won't even know what hit them!"

"Good," I said coldly. "Because we need that cash to buy supplies immediately."

"Supplies?" Mike asked, his tone instantly shifting to confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I am texting you a  purchase list right now," I said, my fingers flying across the screen. 

"I need you to open a private holding account and start placing massive bulk orders immediately. Pay cash upfront for instant delivery."

I brought up my notes app and spoke directly into the phone while I typed.

"First, food," I commanded. "Hundreds of tons of non-perishable goods. White rice, dried beans, vacuum-sealed meats, canned vegetables, cooking oil, flour, sugar, and bottled water. Buy industrial-grade water purifiers and fuel tanks."

"Rayna, wait, hundreds of tons—"

"Second, medical supplies," I cut in ruthlessly. "Antibiotics, pain relievers, surgical kits, burn creams, bandages, and fever medications. Clear out distributor stocks directly."

"What on earth is this for?" Mike breathed out, genuine shock creeping into his voice.

"Third, winter gear," I said, pausing as I looked over at my daughter. 

"Heavy goose-down coats, thermal boots, wool socks, and extreme-sub-zero sleeping bags. Pay special attention to children's sizes, Mike. I want winter clothing in every size for a girl from age five all the way up to age eighteen."

Mike went dead silent for three whole seconds. 

"Sera is five years old, Rayna. Why do you need clothes for an eighteen-year-old?"

"Because my daughter is going to grow up," I said, my voice unwavering.

 "Rent a private, heavy-duty industrial warehouse outside the city limits. Make sure it has concrete walls, a gated perimeter, and working security systems. Route every single delivery straight there."

Mike took a deep, shaky breath, processing the sheer scale of the order. 

"I don't know what you're planning, Rayna, but I trust you. I'll secure the warehouse by noon and start executing the purchase wires immediately."

"Get it done," I said, and hung up.

I set the phone down and walked over to the window, watching the bright autumn sun shine over the city streets.

Thirty days left before the ice buried the world. This time, I had my money, my mind was clear, and I was going to build an untouchable sanctuary for my child.