The Heiress's Cold Revenge

My husband's assistant used his black card to buy herself a Mercedes. Then, at the annual company gala, she mocked me in front of everyone, calling me a trophy wife who only got ahead through marriage. Furious, I canceled the black card. The next time she took clients out to dinner, the card was declined. The client was outraged on the spot. As punishment, she was forced to kneel in the office and write a formal apology letter all night long. When my husband found out, he gently tapped my forehead. "Oh, come on, babe. She's just an assistant. Why lower yourself to fight with her? It makes such a messy scene." He didn't blame me at all. He remained as tender as ever—until Valentine's Day. That evening, he took me to an oceanfront restaurant. He reserved the entire terrace, telling me the other wives from his social circle would be joining us soon to celebrate. "Babe, I'm just running down to the pier to grab a package. I'll be right back to watch the fireworks with you." I waited until the last firework faded from the sky, but he never returned. None of the wives ever showed up, either. Just as I stood up to settle the bill, the manager stepped in front of me. "Mrs. Miller, the charges for this entire terrace have been transferred to your personal account. However, your card was frozen three minutes ago." "Frozen? Three minutes ago?" I clutched the card, my fingertips turning icy cold. Ethan Miller had slipped this very card into my clutch before we left the house. He told me not to worry about a thing on Valentine's Day. He said everything tonight was on him. The manager stood across from me, his professional smile completely gone. "Mrs. Miller, do you have another card you can use?" "The total for the entire terrace, including the reserve wine ordered in advance, comes to sixty thousand dollars." Sixty thousand dollars. Ethan had ordered the most expensive ocean-view tasting menu and opened six bottles of vintage wine, claiming they were for the ladies who would arrive later. Where were they? I had sat on the terrace alone, watching the fireworks display from start to finish. The ocean breeze had blown out the candles twice. The waiter had refilled my water three times. Not a single person had shown up. I dialed Ethan's number. The first call went unanswered. The second line was busy. The third call went straight to voicemail. The pier was right behind the restaurant, less than a five-minute walk away. He said he was picking up a package. It had been two hours. What kind of package took two hours to pick up? "Mrs. Miller, we close at eleven," the manager said, his tone growing sharper. I parted my lips, about to ask for a few more minutes. Suddenly, a rush of footsteps echoed from the dining room, mingled with a woman's shrill laugh. I turned my head. Ethan pushed open the glass doors and walked in, his suit crisp, not a single hair out of place. His hand rested casually on Chloe Evans's shoulder. The very woman who had used his black card to buy a Mercedes. The assistant who had pointed in my face at the company gala and called me a useless trophy wife. Right now, she wore sky-high heels, her makeup more immaculate than anyone going to a gala. She clung to my husband's arm as if she were the guest of honor tonight. Behind them trailed a dozen people. There were Ethan's business partners and several senior vice presidents from his firm. Every single face wore the exact same expression: eager for a show. "Kept you waiting, didn't we, Maya?" Ethan let go of Chloe, shoved his hands into his slacks, and strolled up to me. His tone was just as gentle as when we left home, carrying an easy smile. "Watching the fireworks all alone on an empty terrace, without a soul to talk to, and now you can't even pay the tab." "Tell me, was this Valentine's Day romantic enough for you?" A chill ran down my spine. "You did this on purpose." "Didn't you do it on purpose, too?" He tilted his head. "You froze Chloe's card, leaving her stranded in front of a client like a stray dog with no money. She had to kneel on the floor all night writing an apology. Remember what I told you?" He mimicked his own soft voice: "'Oh, come on, babe. Why lower yourself to fight with her?'" Chloe covered her mouth and let out a giggle beside him. "Ethan, stop, you're embarrassing her." Ethan reached out and lightly pinched Chloe's chin. "Don't worry, the real show is just getting started." He turned back to look at me, the warmth in his eyes instantly replaced by a cold, unfamiliar cruelty. "Maya, tonight I'm going to make sure you taste what it feels like to be cornered in a restaurant without a cent to your name." "Everything you did to Chloe, you're paying back tonight. Every single bit of it."The wind swept in from the terrace, snuffing out the last flickering candle on the table. The crowd that followed him in had already pulled up chairs at the surrounding tables. Waiters immediately brought out fresh drinks and fruit platters. It was clear everything had been arranged well in advance. Ethan pulled out the chair across from me and gestured for Chloe to sit. Chloe crossed her long legs, tapping her manicured nail against an unfinished wine glass on the table. "This is great wine. Must be thousands a bottle, right? You opened six of them all by yourself, Maya. Think you can finish them?" "Your boss told me to order them." "Oh, right, Ethan told you to." She turned to smile up at him. "Ethan, you're so generous to your wife. It's just a shame she can't even afford to pay the tab." People at the nearby tables immediately chimed in. "I heard Mrs. Miller came from some small-town background. She just got lucky that Ethan took a liking to her." "Right? What good is a trophy wife? Once her looks fade, she's basically useless." "Shh, keep it down, she's still sitting right there." "So what? She has no money to pay. Where's she going to go?" Their laughter washed over me in waves, every barb cutting deep. Chloe reached for the most expensive bottle on the table. Without even bothering with a glass, she tilted it back and took a long swig. Then, she slammed the bottle onto the floor. Smash! Dark red wine splattered across the hem of my dress. A shard of broken glass grazed my ankle, sending a sharp sting up my leg. "Oops, my hand slipped," Chloe said, tilting her head as she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "Not like you can pay for it anyway. Well, actually, you have to pay for it. You just can't afford it." She threw her head back, laughing hysterically. Ethan stood beside her, watching with an amused smirk. "Maya, look at yourself right now." He picked up a grape, peeling it slowly. "Stains all over your dress, hair looking like a bird's nest, and you're still trying to act like the high-and-mighty boss's wife." "Why don't you look in a mirror? What right did you have to freeze Chloe's card?" "Do you have any idea how many accounts she's closed for the company? She's carrying three of our biggest clients on her own!" "What about you? Aside from swiping my card every month to buy designer bags, have you ever brought a single cent of value to the firm?" Chloe nodded eagerly. "Exactly! I stay at the office working past midnight every day while you're probably at home doing face masks." Her babyish, whining tone made my stomach churn. "Ethan, you're married to me." I stared straight into his eyes, my voice far steadier than I expected. "Three years of marriage. Did you forget the vows you made at our wedding?" Ethan popped the peeled grape into Chloe's mouth, not even looking back at me. "What vows? Promising to love you forever? Maya, did you really think wedding vows were a legally binding contract?" Chloe chewed the grape, mumbling around it, "Wake up, sweetie. Ethan only married you out of pity. Did you really think you belonged in high society?" She grabbed another bottle of red wine, and this time, she hurled it straight at me. The cold liquid poured over my head, streaming down my forehead and into my eyes, burning so fiercely I could barely keep them open. The room erupted into cheers. "Nice shot!" "Now that's what I call a fitting look! Pouring wine on a trophy—absolute perfection!" I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Ethan pulled out a wet wipe, casually dabbing at a few stray drops on his cuff. His tone remained completely detached. "Don't blame Chloe. When you humiliated her in front of our clients, you were far crueler than this." "Pay the bill first before you say another word. I don't have all night to waste on you."I was drenched in the stench of alcohol. My soaked dress clung uncomfortably to my skin, and strands of wet hair stuck to my face. Still, I refused to fall. I remained standing. I scanned the entire dining room, searching for anyone who might step in. In the corner sat Sarah, the wife of one of Ethan's key partners. We had chatted multiple times at social luncheons. Near the window sat Brandon Cole. I was the one who had quietly pulled the strings behind the scenes to secure his logistics deal for Ethan. The moment I took a step toward Sarah, Ethan stood up. Glass in hand, he slowly let his gaze sweep across the room. "Let me make one thing crystal clear. Tonight, if anyone dares to pay a single penny for Maya, you're making an enemy out of me." "And everyone here knows what happens when you cross Ethan Miller." The room fell dead silent. Sarah immediately looked down at her phone. Brandon raised his glass, using it to hide his face. Not a single person dared to meet my eyes. "See that?" Chloe kicked her legs higher, swinging her designer heels. "Who do you think you are? Without Ethan, you couldn't even afford a glass of water in this city." "She's right," Ethan agreed smoothly. "Ethan." I marched right up to him and grabbed his wrist. "You're publicly humiliating your own wife for an assistant. Don't you feel any shame?" He glanced down at my grip on his wrist. The next second, he swung his hand and slapped me hard across the face. Smack! The sound cracked through the silent room. My ears rang violently. One side of my face burned like it had been set on fire. "You're the only embarrassment here," he said, wrenching his arm free. "A woman who relies on me for every meal, every stitch of clothing, who can't even settle a restaurant tab—what right do you have to talk to me about shame?" Behind him, Chloe clapped her hands in delight. "Well said, Ethan! Couldn't agree more!" Ethan pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicking it open and shut with idle boredom. "Maya, I'll give you one last chance." "Figure out a way to pay this bill yourself, and then apologize to Chloe in front of everyone here." "If you can't..." He glanced over at the restaurant manager. Understanding the cue, the manager stepped forward, flanked by two burly security guards. "Then the manager will handle you for me. As for how he handles it... you can imagine." Chloe pulled a compact from her bag to touch up her makeup, speaking without looking up. "Why don't we do this, Maya? If you can't pay the bill, just strip off that custom designer dress to cover the debt." "Ethan paid for it anyway, so consider it returning what belongs to him." She angled her compact mirror toward me, her lips curling into a smug smirk. "Besides, let everyone here see what Ethan ever saw in you in the first place—if you're even pretty enough to keep around as an ornament." A few of the middle-aged men at the side tables were already rubbing their hands together, their eyes glued to me like vultures circling prey. "Hey, that makes sense. Let's see what she's working with." "If Mr. Miller doesn't mind, why should we?" My hands trembled—not from the cold, and not from fear, but from the searing rage boiling in my veins. "Ethan, you will regret this." He threw his head back and laughed. "Regret? The only thing I regret is being blind enough to marry you in the first place."Chloe snapped her compact shut with a sharp clack and marched over to me. She was half a head shorter than me, yet she tilted her chin high, looking down her nose at me. "Sweetie—actually, no, I should just call you Maya. You won't be Mrs. Miller for much longer anyway." She picked up an untouched plate of raw oysters from the table and shoved it toward my chest. "I'll give you two choices. Option one: strip down, hand over the dress, and let the manager let you go. Option two..." She shoved the plate directly against my collarbone. The shells cracked, and the cold brine trickled down my skin. "Get on your knees, pick up these shells, crawl all the way to the front doors, and shout three times: 'Chloe, I'm sorry, I was wrong!'" "Which one's it going to be?" I didn't look at her. I looked at the crowd. The manager stood behind the bar. The security guards blocked the exit. Ethan's business associates were sipping their drinks, watching the spectacle. Not a single soul intended to help. My phone had died hours ago. Ethan had definitely tampered with the charger before we left home. "Cat got your tongue?" Chloe tilted her head, watching me like a caged bird. "Can't choose? Want me to pick for you?" "I pick option three," I said. My voice was shockingly steady. "I borrow someone's phone, call a friend, and have them bring the cash to settle the tab." Chloe froze for a second before bursting into laughter. "Bring cash? Ethan just said anyone who helps you is an enemy of the Millers. Do you really think anyone in this city will even pick up your call?" "Yes." "Fine! I'll give you thirty minutes." Chloe stepped back to Ethan's side, grinning. "If someone actually shows up with the money within thirty minutes, I, Chloe Evans, will pour this red wine all over myself from head to toe, crawl out of this restaurant on my hands and knees, and scream 'I am a useless trophy' the whole way." "You willing to bet on that?" "Why wouldn't I be?" She turned to the crowd, tossing her hair. "You're all my witnesses!" The room buzzed with excitement. "Now this is a show!" "Thirty minutes? Yeah right, who would dare cross Ethan Miller?" "No one's coming. She's guaranteed to win." Ignoring their chatter, I turned and walked straight toward Brandon Cole in the corner. The moment he saw me approaching, he slid his chair back half a foot. "Stay back, I can't get involved—" "I don't want your money. Let me borrow your phone for one call, and I'll give it right back." He hesitated for a few seconds, glancing sideways at Ethan. Ethan leaned back against his chair, waving a hand dismissively. "Let her call. It won't change anything." Only then did Brandon hand me his phone. I dialed a number from memory. "It's me. The oceanfront restaurant behind the marina. Come right now. Bring cash." I hung up and handed the phone back to Brandon. The seconds ticked away. Twenty minutes passed. No one arrived. Chloe grew restless—not from nervousness, but from sheer impatience. "Ethan, let's stop wasting time. Just have them tear her dress off. No one's coming anyway—" "There are ten minutes left." "Ten minutes? You think you're in some kind of movie?" Chloe sneered, waving her hand at the bouncers. Two hulking men stepped forward, grabbing my arms on either side. A couple of the middle-aged businessmen leaned in close, their greasy fingers practically twitching. "Mr. Miller said we could do whatever we want if she can't pay, right?" "I'll go first. Mr. Miller definitely has good taste." I fought back with everything I had, the veins in my neck bulging as I resisted their grip. Chloe snapped her fingers. "Rip her sleeves off! Let these gentlemen inspect the goods first—" The sharp screech of tires echoed from outside, followed immediately by the synchronized thud of heavy boots. A squad of men in crisp black suits poured into the restaurant, instantly tearing the bouncers away from me with brutal efficiency. Behind them walked a woman in a sharp gray trench coat, carrying a sleek aluminum briefcase. It was Victoria Vance, the head of the city's top financial conglomerate. She slammed the case onto the bar and popped the latches open, revealing stacks of pristine, banded cash. Then, she turned around and bowed respectfully to me. "Miss Sterling, Miss Montgomery sent me ahead to handle this. She'll be here any second." "I apologize. We hit traffic for a few minutes and almost ran late."