"Good," Richard said, turning his back to her. "And don't take the silver.
The rain in Connecticut that night was torrential. It battered the roof of the Sterling estate like rocks being thrown from the sky. Elena dragged two suitcases down the grand staircase. They were old suitcases, the ones she had brought with her into the marriage. They contained simple clothes, a few books, and a framed photo of her mother.
She had left the jewelry. She had left the designer coats Richard had bought her for photo ops. She reached the foyer. The front door was massive, made of dark oak. "Leaving so soon?
Elena froze. Jessica was leaning against the doorway of the living room, holding a glass of champagne. Richard was behind her, scrolling on his phone, indifferent. "I'm leaving," Elena said quietly. Jessica walked over, her heels clicking on the marble.
She looked at the suitcases. Let me check. What? I need to check them, Jessica said with a wicked grin. Make sure you aren't stealing Richard's property.
Before Elena could stop her, Jessica kicked the first suitcase over. She unzipped it and dumped the contents onto the floor. Cheap sweaters, underwear, and toiletries spilled out. Jessica kicked through the pile with her expensive heel. Pathetic.
Jessica laughed. Primark, Target. God, you really were a stain on this house. She reached out and picked up the framed photo of Elena's mother. "Put that down," Elena said, her voice dropping an octave.
"Don't touch her. "Or what? Jessica taunted. She held the photo loosely. "Oops," she let it drop.
The glass shattered against the marble floor. Elena stared at the broken glass. Something inside her snapped, but she didn't scream. She didn't attack. She simply knelt down, carefully picked up the photo, brushed off the glass shards, and placed it in her bag.
She zipped up the suitcase. She stood up and looked Jessica in the eye. "You will regret this," Elena said. It wasn't a threat. It was a statement of fact.
"Get out! Richard shouted from the living room, not even looking up. Stop causing a scene, Elena. Elena opened the heavy front door and stepped out into the pouring rain. She didn't have a car.
Richard had leased all the vehicles in the company name and had taken her keys an hour ago. She began to walk down the long winding driveway, the rain soaking her gray cardigan instantly. She walked for 20 minutes until she reached the gate house at the edge of the property. The security guard, old Mr. Henderson, looked at her with pity, but didn't open the gate. He had his orders.
Elena huddled under the small overhang of the gate house. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, battered Nokia phone. It was a burner phone she had kept hidden for 3 years. Ever since Richard started tracking her main phone, she dialed a number she hadn't called in a decade. It rang once, twice, three times.
"Hello? A deep gravelly voice answered. It sounded tired. "Papa," Elena whispered, her voice breaking for the first time that night. There was a long silence on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath.
Ellie, is that you? Papa, I Elena sobbed, sliding down the brick wall to sit on the wet ground. I made a mistake. You were right. You were right about him.
About everything. Where are you? The voice on the other end hardened instantly. The tiredness vanished. replaced by a tone of authority that had terrified criminals for 40 years. I'm at the gate.
He threw me out. He's divorcing me, Papa. He and his mistress. They humiliated me. They left me with nothing.
Did he hurt you? He let her break Mama's picture, Elena cried. They laughed at me. A pause. Then the voice spoke again, colder than the rain falling around her.
Do not move. I am sending the car. It will be there in 10 minutes. Papa, I don't want to cause trouble, Elena said, wiping her eyes. I just need a place to sleep.
Trouble? The man on the other end let out a dark, dry chuckle. My dear Ellie, they wanted a war. They have no idea they just bombed a superpower. Dry your tears.
The Sterling boy wants to play games with the law. Fine. He's about to find out who writes the rules. The line went dead. 3 weeks later, the Superior Court of Connecticut was buzzing.
The divorce of Richard Sterling was high-profile news. The paparazzi was swarming the steps, cameras flashing like lightning storms. A sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb. Richard Sterling stepped out looking like a billion dollars in a custom Armani suit. He waved to the press, a confident smile plastered on his face.
Jessica was on his arm, wearing a white dress that looked suspiciously like a wedding gown, complete with a massive fascinator hat. Mr. Sterling, is it true your wife is contesting the prenup? A reporter shouted. "My ex-wife is confused and desperate," Richard said smoothly into the microphones. But we trust the justice system.
We just want this over with so Jessica and I can start our philanthropic work. Philanthropic work? Jessica giggled, clinging to his bicep. We're planning a gala for orphaned kittens. They swept up the stairs, surrounded by a team of five high-priced lawyers, the sharks of New York.
A few minutes later, a simple yellow taxi pulled up. No cameras flashed. No reporters shouted. Elena stepped out. She was wearing a modest navy blue suit, clean, but clearly older.
Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun. She carried a single briefcase. She walked alone, no lawyers, no entourage.
Inside the courtroom, the atmosphere was electric. The gallery was packed with reporters, curious onlookers, and Richard's business associates. Richard and Jessica sat at the plaintiff's table, laughing and whispering. Their legal team spread out files, laptops, and tablets, taking up half the room. Elena sat at the defendant's table alone.
She placed a notepad, and a pen on the desk. "Where is her lawyer? Jessica whispered loudly to Richard. "Can't she afford one? Oh, this is going to be tragic.