The Surgeon's Revenge: No More Mrs. Montgomery

Chapter 2 No.2

Word Count: 1043 | Released on: 15/01/2026

s a small act of control in a world that felt increasingly chaotic. She rolled up the sleeves of her blou

opened the double-door Sub-Zero refrigerator. It was stocked to capacity. Rows of organic vegetables, imported ch

e marbling was exquisite, white veins o

like a bad omen. "Mr. Montgomery dislikes the smell of seari

e beef on the cutting board. "Mr. M

ing out the housekeeper's disapproval. Years ago, back when they were both at Yale, before the death of her parents, before the trus

ke it belonged to a

th a simple arugula salad and sat at the dining table. The table was mahogany, long enough to seat t

e flame flickered, casting long,

um-rare. She chewed slowly, but she couldn't taste i

it b

as a notification from

also a socialite who thrived on the currency of gos

nshot of an In

g read: The Pie

ia tone. In the foreground, people were holding crystal flutes of champa

s, was a man in a dark suit. His profile was blurry, but Alexa knew the shar

s Fle

vely toward his. She was wearing a dress that was little more than shim

looked like that new model from the Vogue cover last month. She was lau

sn't pushin

er nostrils with a cloying thickness. She looked at the piece of meat on her fork. The f

sea rolled th

iming impeccable. "Shall I clear the ta

artha take it, it was an admission of defeat.

abbed the fork into the

g, coating her tongue in an oily film. She chewed mechanically, her jaw a

down, the wax dripping onto the silver holder in m

e scraped the expensive, barely-eaten meal into the trash compactor. The

Martha," Alexa sai

the white boucle sofa facing the window. Th

Calico cat was pressing its nose against the glass. It was a stray she had

door just a crack. The cat

l up. The cat was bony, its fur rough, but it purred instantly against

ppy to see me," she mur

chime shatter

g under the sofa. Alexa stood up, smoothing her skirt wi

or of the foyer. Then a cough-deep, ratt

s, a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette that seemed to suck all the oxygen out of th

Chapter End

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The Surgeon's Revenge: No More Mrs. Montgomery

Mischa Taube Modern

“I'm a top surgeon at Mount Sinai, but at 432 Park Avenue, I'm just the invisible "placeholder wife" of Fletcher Montgomery. After three months of silence, I didn't hear from my husband; I found out he was back in New York via a news alert tracking his private jet. When he finally walked into our penthouse, he didn't bring a greeting-he brought the scent of another woman's perfume and a heart full of ice. He looked at me with pure revulsion, telling me he was "tired of looking at mistakes" before slamming the bedroom door in my face. The humiliation escalated the next morning when his mother cornered me with a divorce agreement, calling our seven-year marriage a "charity project" that had run its course. She reminded me I was a "peasant" who owed the Montgomerys for saving my reputation, even as I spent my days saving lives in the OR. At a family dinner on Long Island, Fletcher turned our private struggle into a public execution. In front of his entire elite clan, he sneered that I should stop fixing other people's hearts and figure out why my own womb was a "wasteland." When I tried to defend myself, he dragged me into his car, only to kick me out on a dark, rain-slicked street in Queens. I stood there shivering in a thin blouse, without a phone or shoes, watching his taillights disappear while a group of men whistled at me from the shadows. I couldn't understand how seven years of devotion ended with me barefoot in the mud, or why the man I once loved now treated me like a stray he regretted picking up. The injustice burned hotter than the freezing rain, fueling a cold, surgical rage I hadn't felt in years. I eventually made it back to the penthouse, but I wasn't the submissive wife anymore. I rescued my cat from the freezing terrace, fired the malicious house manager, and deadbolted the master suite from the inside. When Fletcher's assistant called, I gave him a simple message: "Tell him the locks have changed, and the war has officially begun."”