The billionaire's vengeful queen

The penthouse smelled of orchids, truffle oil, and the metallic tang of coming war.

Aurora Ryder stood barefoot on the heated marble, the hem of her crimson silk gown pooling like fresh blood. She’d chosen the dress for its color (Damien once said red made her look “untouchable”), and tonight she needed every inch of confidence that she could get. Ten years of marriage, and she still measured herself against his approval.

She checked the dining table for the third time. The wagyu had been flown in from Kobe that morning; the risotto simmered under a silver cloche; the chocolate soufflé waited in the warmer, its dome already beginning to collapse. She’d cooked it herself “no staff tonight she thought to herself”. She wanted him to taste her hands in every bite.

The elevator clicked at 9:17 p.m.

Damien walked in, loosening his tie with the absent grace of a man who’d never had to wait for anything. His suit cost more than most people’s rent. His eyes “storm-gray, always calculating”looked over the table, the candles, her. Dismissal in a glance.

“You’re early,” he said.

Aurora’s stomach sunk. She had been waiting since seven. “I thought we were celebrating.”

He snorted. “Board ran late. Some crisis with NexGen.” He tossed his jacket over a chair, the way he used to toss her heart. “Pour me a drink.”

She obeyed (old habit), but her fingers shook as she reached for the decanter. The crystal stopper clinked too loudly. She set the glass in front of him, then slid the leather folder across the table. Gold-embossed: RYDER-VOSS ACQUISITION.

“Open it.”

Damien arched a brow, amused. He flipped it open like he was signing for room service.

Inside: a $50 million contract. NexGen AI (the startup his board had written off as a sinking ship). Except the numbers were wrong. Profit margins tripled. Patents secured. A quiet clause transferring 51% voting shares to Aurora Voss-Ryder.

His smirk faltered. “You… bought this?”

“I saved it,” she said. Her voice didn’t shake. “Your board was voting to oust you next week. I turned a $200 million loss into a $400 million asset in seventy-two hours.”

Silence stretched, thick as the risotto cooling under the cloche.

Then he laughed sharp, cruel, the sound that used to make her flinch. “Aurora, you’re adorable.”

The word hit like a slap. Adorable. Like a puppy. Like the girl who’d once begged him to stay after he came home smelling of someone else’s perfume.

She straightened. “It’s not a gift. It’s proof. I’m not just your wife. I’m the reason Ryder Corp still exists.”

Damien set the folder down. Pulled out a second one. Thicker. Red-stamped. PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE.

The room tilted.

“I never loved you,” he said, voice flat as the marble beneath her bare feet. “You were convenient. A signature when I needed one. A pretty face for galas. A womb I never planned to use.”

The necklace ten carats, anniversary gift number one suddenly choked her,made her feel uncomfortable She gasped at the clasp, diamonds scattering across the table like hail and all of a sudden her feet seemed heavier ..she wasn't going to have a panic attacker right in front of Damien that would only make if feel stronger he'd love nothing than to see her in her weakest moment

“Sign.” He tossed a Montblanc pen. It rolled, clattered, stopped against the soufflé.

“Or I leak the photos,” he continued. “You on your knees in Aspen, begging me not to leave. Pathetic”he smirked

Aurora’s vision blurred. She’d never begged. Not once. But the memory flashed anyway: her in that ski lodge, voice cracking, “Please, Damien, we can fix this.” He’d recorded it. Of course he had and it only made him look way pathetic to me

Her hand slipped into her clutch. Inside: the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Three weeks. She’d taken it that morning, after vomiting in the marble sink while he slept off last night’s “board meeting.”

He doesn’t know.

She smiled slow, dry, the kind of smile that cut. “Enjoy your freedom, Damien.”

She turned. The gown whispered like a threat. She didn’t look back.

In the elevator, her phone buzzed.she looked down on her on which she held her phone

“Unknown Number: was what displayed on her phone and their was a message

“The Voss bloodline isn’t broken. Come home. “ The message read

Aurora deleted Damien’s contact. Blocked his number. Stepped into the rain.

The city lights smeared across the windshield of the Uber like wet paint. She pressed a hand on her stomach still flat, still secret as if nothing was there but just felt the peace that comes with “atleast I have my child “ and whispered to the child she hadn’t planned to have:

“We’re going to be okay.”

The driver glanced in the rearview. “Rough night, ma’am?”

She met his eyes. “The first night of the rest of my life.”

Aurora arrives at her mother’s abandoned Brooklyn studio at 2 a.m., with the keys trembling inside the keyhole . Inside this studio, a safe hidden behind a portrait of her at sixteen her eyes too oldand her mouth too soft. The code is her birthday. What’s inside will either save her… or destroy everything she thought she knew.