The Jilted Wife's Spectacular Billionaire Comeback

"Thank you very much for coming. Please be careful on your way."

Estella smiled until her cheek muscles ached.

The heavy oak door to the top floor of the apartment clicked shut, finally shutting out the blaring jazz music and the suffocating smell of expensive cigars. She let out a long sigh, her shoulders relaxing completely. Ten years.

For all ten anniversary parties, she personally folded the last crease on the napkin.

She turned, her high heels clicking on the marble floor. Conrad stood by the bar, his back to her. He had begun to tug at his tie, loosening it with a stiff, impatient motion. There was no relaxation in his posture, no warmth from this successful evening. Only the cold impatience that clung to him like a second skin.

Jana floated out of the restaurant, holding two half-empty champagne glasses.

Her sister smiled, revealing a gleaming, sharp white tooth. "Another perfect party, sister. Conrad is so lucky to have you."

Estella nodded, but a chill ran through her. Yana's gaze wasn't on her. It was fixed on Conrad's back, lingering on the way his shirt clung to his shoulders. It was a possessive look. A look that shouldn't be on a sister's face.

"I'm exhausted," Conrad said without turning around. He poured himself a glass of Scotch whisky, the ice clinking against the glass. "I'm going to take a shower."

"I can help you tidy up," Yana offered, moving closer to Estella. Her perfume-Estella's signature scent, the one Conrad had given her for Christmas last year-was heavy in the air between them.

"No, go home," Estella said, her voice more steady than she felt. "You've done enough."

Yana grinned. It was just a slight twitch of her lips, but it was there. "If you insist. Goodnight, Conrad."

Conrad waved lazily, without turning around. Yana grabbed her coat, leaving Estella alone in the vast, silent living room. The silence was oppressive. She looked at the overflowing ashtray and the condensation on the antique mahogany table. She had given this man ten years of her life, and he hadn't even said a happy anniversary.

She needs to solve it. She's always trying to solve it.

Estella went into the kitchen, her sanctuary. She opened the Sub-Zero refrigerator and took out ginger and organic bone broth. Conrad always drank too much on these occasions, and if she didn't make him her special soup, he would always wake up with a splitting headache. It was a ritual. Her fingers moved automatically, peeling, slicing, and simmering. The aroma of ginger filled the air, a comforting warmth that usually made her feel useful.

She poured the clear, golden liquid into a porcelain bowl and carefully placed it on a silver plate. She climbed the stairs, her heart beating slightly faster. Perhaps tonight, after they finished their soup, they could really talk. Perhaps he would realize how much she cared.

The master bedroom door was slightly ajar. A ray of warm sunlight streamed into the hallway. Estella, carrying a tray in one hand, opened the door with a gentle smile.

"Conrad, I made your favorite-"

The words stuck in her throat.

The tray tilted. The bowl slipped. Hot soup spilled over the rim, scalding her wrist, but she didn't feel it. She couldn't feel anything below her neck.

Conrad wasn't alone. He wasn't taking a shower. He stood by the dressing table, a white towel loosely wrapped around his waist. And pressed close to him, her back arched against his chest, was Yana.

She didn't leave; instead, she went away on her own back and then returned.

Her sister's skirt zipper was open, hanging over her shoulder. Conrad's lips were on Yana's neck, his hands gripping her waist with a possessiveness he had never shown to Estella.

"Tell me when you're going to tell her," Yana groaned, leaning her head back on his shoulder. Her eyes were open, fixed on the doorway, on Estella. There was no fear in her eyes. Only victory.

Conrad jerked his head up. The crash of the tray hitting the floor echoed like a gunshot. Porcelain shattered, and scalding soup and shards splashed onto the hardwood floor.

The noise broke the spell. Conrad stepped back from Yana, but he made no attempt to hide himself. He offered no apology. He simply looked at Estella, his gaze flat and empty, as if she were a stranger who had wandered into the room.

"What are you doing?" Estella's voice was hoarse and grating. It didn't sound like her. It sounded like a dying animal.

"I think you see clearly what I'm doing," Conrad said. His voice was calm. Too calm. He reached for a bathrobe, casually put it on, and said indifferently. "It saves me the trouble of explaining tomorrow."

Yana straightened her skirt, slowly and deliberately zipping it up. She didn't hide. She walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, crossing her legs. "Don't be so shocked, Estella. You knew this day would come."

Estella's hands trembled. She stared at Conrad, waiting for the outcome, waiting for him to say it was a joke. "Today is our anniversary."

"That's right," Conrad said, walking toward her. He stopped just inches away from her, looking down at her with a look of utter disgust that made her nauseous. "Ten years, Estella. Ten years of playing house with the wrong sisters."

These words struck her like a physical blow, sucking the air out of her lungs. "The wrong sister?"

"I only married you because Yana was going to Oxford," Conrad said, his tone detached and professional, as if discussing a business merger. "The Lowe family needs to forge a strong alliance with the Nieves family. You're just a substitute. I've always loved her. The stable one. You were supposed to hold this position for Yana until she was ready."

Estella's knees buckled. She grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling. She looked at Yana, who was idly examining her fingernails. "You know? You two... have always been like this?"

"Every minute, every second," Yana said, her smile widening. "Honestly, sister, you should be ashamed. Do you really think your little soups and party plans are enough to keep a man like him? You're so boring, Estella. You're just a glorified maid."

Conrad reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, then turned it towards her. It was a document. A legal document. "I don't want to play games anymore. The divorce papers will be filed tomorrow. My lawyer will contact you in the morning."

Estella stared at the screen. The words blurred, then cleared. The marriage was dissolved. It was all over. Her entire life, her entire identity, had been erased with a single touch on the screen.

"Get out of my room," Conrad said, his voice turning cold. "You can sleep in the guest room tonight. I expect you to leave before the weekend."

He turned his back to her and walked to the bedside, sitting down next to Yana. Yana leaned against him, placing her hand on his thigh. They looked at Estella as if she were a stain they couldn't wait to wipe away.

Estella turned and walked out. She didn't remember how she got up the stairs to the guest room area. She didn't remember closing the door. She just stood in the dark, empty room, staring at the walls, the images of her husband and sister etched into her mind.