Part 1: The Storm Gathers
The rain in Chicago did not fall; it threw itself against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Gabrielle Thompson’s downtown law office like a warning. Inside, the atmosphere was no less heavy.
Gabrielle stood by her desk, her tailored suit immaculate, though her eyes were sharp with a lethal, focused energy. When the heavy oak doors opened and Cameron Rivers walked in, she didn’t offer a polite smile. She didn’t need to. The man standing before her wasn’t the enemy; he was the executioner.
"You took your time," Gabrielle said, her voice dropping into that low, dangerous register she used right before she dismantled a witness in court.
Cameron didn't apologize. He simply slid his phone across her desk. The screen was already queued up to the video sent by Lisa Martinez. "Watch it first. Then we talk about how we destroy them."
Gabrielle hit play. As the shaky, high-definition footage from the private jet filled the screen, her jaw tightened. She watched Tiffany Blake sneer, watched her fingers twist into Simone’s curls, and watched her younger sister—the woman who had already survived so much loss—stumble and hold her belly in sheer terror. But when the camera panned to Derek Rivers, scrolling indifferently on his phone, a sound escaped Gabrielle’s throat that was pure, unfiltered rage.
"He sat there," Gabrielle whispered, her hands shaking as she slammed the phone face down. "He sat there and let that trash put her hands on my pregnant sister."
"He did," Cameron said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He paced to the window, looking out over the grey expanse of the city he practically owned. "Our mother raised us on the West Side. She skipped meals so we could have shoes. She taught us that a man’s strength is measured by how he protects those who cannot protect themselves. Derek forgot where he came from. He forgot the blood in his veins. I intend to remind him."
"I want everything, Cameron," Gabrielle said, stepping closer, her legal mind already spinning gold from fury. "I don’t just want a standard divorce settlement. I want his shares in Rivers Industries. I want the penthouse. I want the suburban estate. I want him so broke he has to check his bank account before he buys a cup of coffee. And Tiffany? I want her blacklisted from every social circle, every charity board, and every boutique from here to Paris."
"You handle the legal side," Cameron replied, turning around. His dark eyes were cold as ice. "I handle the money. Derek thinks his position as Vice President of Global Logistics is secure because he’s my brother. He doesn’t realize that the only reason he has a seat at the table is because I allowed him to sit there. Effective tomorrow morning, his corporate cards are frozen. His access to the primary accounts is restricted. And I am launching a full forensic audit of his department."
Meanwhile, across town at the Rivers penthouse, the air was suffocating. Simone sat on the edge of the plush king-sized bed, still wearing the navy maternity dress. She hadn't changed. She hadn't unpacked.
The door clicked open, and Derek walked in, loosening his silk tie. He looked annoyed, exhaling a loud sigh as if he were the one who had been assaulted at thirty thousand feet.
"Are you still throwing a tantrum?" Derek asked, tossing his briefcase onto an armchair. "Simone, seriously. You’ve been silent since we landed. Tiffany was out of line, okay? I get it. But you don't need to make a federal case out of it. She was drunk. The cabin pressure gets to her."
Simone looked up. For five years, she had loved this man. She had overlooked his late nights, his sudden coldness, and the subtle ways he made her feel like she didn't quite belong in his high-society world. But looking at him now, the veil was completely gone.
"She pulled my hair, Derek," Simone said, her voice eerily steady. "She threatened our daughter. And you told her that you didn't need drama."
"Because I don't!" Derek snapped, turning on her, his face flushing with irritation. "I’m trying to close a multi-million dollar merger with the Dallas group, and my wife is causing a scene on a plane full of investors! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is for me? You’re supposed to support me, Simone. Instead, you're acting like a victim."
"I am a victim," she said softly, standing up. She held her belly, feeling the gentle, rhythmic kicks of her baby girl. "But I won't be one for long."
Derek laughed, a harsh, dismissive sound. "What is that supposed to mean? What are you going to do, Simone? Go back to the South Side? Call your sister? Gabrielle is a shark, but she can't touch my money. Everything is protected by our prenuptial agreement. You leave me, you leave with what you came with—nothing."
Before Simone could answer, the heavy double doors of the penthouse suite were pushed open with a force that made the brass handles rattle.
Derek whirled around, ready to scream at whoever had dared to breach his privacy. But the words died in his throat.
May you like
Standing in the doorway, framed by the shadows of the hallway, was Cameron Rivers. Beside him stood Gabrielle Thompson, holding a thick leather briefcase.
"She isn't leaving with nothing, Derek," Cameron said, stepping into the room. His presence was so massive, so imposing, that Derek instinctively took a step back. "But you are."
