I never told my husband I owned a five-billion-dollar empire. To him, I was still “the useless housewife.” At his promotion party, he forced me to wear a maid’s uniform and serve drinks, while his mistress sat in the place of honor, wearing my jewelry. I kept my head down and served quietly—until his boss saw me and stopped cold. He bowed slightly and said, “Good evening, Madam Chairwoman.” My husband laughed nervously. “Sir, you must be mistaken—she’s just my wife.” His boss looked at him and replied, “No. You work for her.” My husband’s face drained of color. What happened next left him completely shattered.

Elena smiled. It was a cold, sharp smile that Mark didn’t notice because he was already looking at his phone.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who I am tomorrow.”

Later that night, as Mark snored beside her, Elena’s phone lit up on the nightstand. It was Mark’s phone, actually. He had forgotten to silence it.

A message from “Jessica – Work”: I can’t wait to be your queen tomorrow night. Your stupid wife won’t suspect a thing. Wear the blue tie I bought you.

Elena stared at the screen. She didn’t cry. She reached under the bed and pulled out a velvet box. Inside was a platinum seal ring with the NovaStream crest.

She whispered to the sleeping man, “You wanted a queen, Mark. Be careful what you wish for.”

The Grand Ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton was bathed in gold and violet light. It was an event fit for royalty, paid for by a “generous anonymous donor” from the corporate office.

Mark arrived in a limousine. He stepped out, looking dashing in the blue tie Jessica had bought him. On his arm was Jessica herself—a striking woman in a red dress that was illegal in three states. She worked in HR, a department Elena had specifically instructed to hire more “creative thinkers.” Apparently, Jessica’s creativity lay elsewhere.

Elena arrived ten minutes later. In an Uber.

Mark had told her to meet him there. “It’s better if we arrive separately,” he had said. “I have to network early.”

Elena walked into the ballroom. She was wearing a simple black dress. Elegant, but understated. She stood near a pillar, watching her husband work the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mark’s voice boomed over the crowd as he held up a champagne flute. He was holding court near the ice sculpture. “They say behind every great man is a great woman. And I have to agree.”

He pulled Jessica closer. The crowd, assuming she was his wife, applauded politely.

“Jessica here has been my rock,” Mark lied effortlessly. “Her intelligence, her class… that’s what drives me.”

A junior executive leaned over to Mark. “Is that your wife, Mark?”

Mark laughed, a cruel, braying sound. “No, no. This is Jessica, my… right hand. My wife is around here somewhere.” He scanned the room, his eyes sliding over Elena in the shadows. “Probably near the buffet. She loves free food.”

Jessica giggled, whispering something in Mark’s ear.

Elena watched them. Her heart was a block of ice. But then, she saw it.

Around Jessica’s neck glittered a necklace. It was a blue diamond pendant, set in white gold. The design was unmistakable. It was the Star of the North, a custom piece commissioned by Elena’s grandfather for her grandmother. It had been missing from Elena’s jewelry box for two weeks. Mark had told her he took it to get the clasp repaired.

He hadn’t just cheated on her. He had stolen her legacy to adorn his mistress.

The last shred of pity Elena held for Mark evaporated.

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