Not Just An Incubator: The Ex-Wife's Cold Revenge

Beatrice Wells

Modern | Completed

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Ten minutes. That was how close I was to handing my fiancé the keys to a three-hundred-million-dollar empire built on my code. But when I walked into the office, his mistress was sitting in my chair, spinning the pen I bought him for our anniversary. Caleb didn't even look up. He told me the investors wanted stability, not a pregnant woman. He called our unborn child a "liability" and ordered security to escort me out of the building I paid for. I went home to pack, only to find a burner phone hidden in the closet. The texts were brutal. He called me an "incubator." He said once the deal was signed, he'd take the baby and dump the "nerd." When he caught me with the phone, he didn't apologize. He dragged me by my hair and threw me into the soundproof panic room to keep me quiet until the deal closed. "Caleb, please! I'm bleeding!" I pounded on the steel door until my hands were raw. But he just locked it and went to eat pizza with his mistress. Alone in the dark, on the freezing concrete, I felt the life inside me slip away. He hadn't just stolen my company; he had killed my child. He thought I was broken. He thought I was just "the help." But he forgot one thing: I built the security system he was trying to sell. Three days later, I rolled my wheelchair into his victory press conference, flanked by his biggest rival. "Do you trust your new code, Caleb?" "Because I wrote the backdoor. And I just opened it."

Revenge Comeback Revenge Female-centered Pregnancy

Chapter 10

The day before yesterday 20:56

Chapter 1

Ten minutes. That was how close I was to handing my fiancé the keys to a three-hundred-million-dollar empire built on my code.

But when I walked into the office, his mistress was sitting in my chair, spinning the pen I bought him for our anniversary.

Caleb didn't even look up. He told me the investors wanted stability, not a pregnant woman. He called our unborn child a "liability" and ordered security to escort me out of the building I paid for.

I went home to pack, only to find a burner phone hidden in the closet. The texts were brutal. He called me an "incubator." He said once the deal was signed, he'd take the baby and dump the "nerd."

When he caught me with the phone, he didn't apologize. He dragged me by my hair and threw me into the soundproof panic room to keep me quiet until the deal closed.

"Caleb, please! I'm bleeding!"

I pounded on the steel door until my hands were raw. But he just locked it and went to eat pizza with his mistress.

Alone in the dark, on the freezing concrete, I felt the life inside me slip away. He hadn't just stolen my company; he had killed my child.

He thought I was broken. He thought I was just "the help." But he forgot one thing: I built the security system he was trying to sell.

Three days later, I rolled my wheelchair into his victory press conference, flanked by his biggest rival.

"Do you trust your new code, Caleb?"

"Because I wrote the backdoor. And I just opened it."

Chapter 1

Brooke Myers POV

Ten minutes.

That was how close I was to handing my fiancé the keys to the city.

Then I saw it.

My own face staring up from the trash can, defaced with a thick black marker.

The ink was still wet.

That photo was the headshot for the press release I had written myself. It was supposed to validate the Roy Family's legitimacy to the Commission-a deal worth three hundred million dollars in clean, laundered money. A deal built on my code. My sleepless nights. My very soul.

Now, it was just garbage.

I stood in the hallway of the compound I had paid for, my hand hovering over my stomach. The cramping had started an hour ago, a dull ache I had tried to ignore because Caleb needed this day to be perfect. But now, the ache was sharpening into a serrated blade.

I pushed open the double oak doors to the main office.

The air inside smelled of expensive leather and cheap perfume.

Caleb wasn't sitting behind the mahogany desk. Krystal was.

She was wearing my headset. She was spinning a pen between her fingers-a Montblanc I had given Caleb for our fifth anniversary.

"You can't be in here," Krystal said. She didn't bother to look up. Her voice was light, airy, and completely out of place in a room where death sentences were signed. "This area is restricted to high-ranking personnel."

I looked at Caleb. He was standing by the window, nursing a glass of scotch. He wouldn't look at me.

"Caleb," I said. My voice sounded thin, brittle. "Why is the bottle girl from The Onyx sitting in my chair?"

Krystal laughed. It was a sharp, jagged sound. "Underboss of Operations, actually. Caleb promoted me this morning."

The cramping in my stomach twisted violently. I gripped the doorframe to stay upright.

"Operations?" I asked, staring at Caleb's back. "She can't even spell operations. Caleb, the Commission rep is landing in two hours. The Apex System needs my biometric key to go live. Stop playing games."

Caleb finally turned.

He looked tired. Not the good kind of tired that comes from hard work, but the guilty kind that comes from looking over your shoulder.

"There's no game, Brooke," he said. He took a sip of the scotch. "The Commission thinks a pregnant woman is a liability. They want strength. They want stability."

"I am the strength of this family," I said, my voice rising. "I built the laundering infrastructure. I paid off your gambling debts when you were nothing but a street soldier. I am carrying your son."

Caleb grimaced at the mention of the baby. He waved his hand dismissively.

"It makes us look weak," he said. "Soft. You need to go home, Brooke. Take a leave of absence. Indefinite."

"Indefinite," I repeated, the word tasting like ash.

I looked at Krystal. She was smirking now, tapping a long, manicured fingernail against the desk.

Then I saw it.

On the collar of Caleb's crisp white shirt, right below the jawline. A smudge of red.

It matched the shade on Krystal's lips perfectly.

The room seemed to tilt. The ten years of loyalty, the illegal transfers, the bodies I had helped bury with digital shovels-it all crashed down on me.

This wasn't about the Commission. This was a coup.

"You aren't delaying the wedding for business," I whispered.

"Go home, Brooke," Caleb said, his voice hardening. "Security will escort you out."

Two guards stepped out from the shadows. I knew them. I had paid for their children's braces. Now, they looked at me like I was a stranger.

I didn't cry. The pain in my stomach was too sharp for tears.

"I want my share," I said. "My equity in Apex. My name is on the patent."

"You have nothing," Krystal said, her smile cruel. "You're just the help."

I looked at Caleb one last time. He had turned back to the window.

I turned around and walked out.

I made it to the parking lot before my legs gave out. I leaned against my car, gasping for air. The rain had started to fall, cold and biting against my skin.

I pulled out my phone. My hands were shaking, but my mind was crystal clear.

I didn't call my lawyer. I didn't call my mother.

I dialed the one number that was blacklisted on every Roy Family server.

It rang twice.

"This is a bold move, Brooke," a deep voice answered. It sounded like gravel grinding against steel.

"Easton," I said.

"To what do I owe the pleasure? Is Caleb finally ready to surrender the South Side?"

"Caleb is an idiot," I said. "I'm offering you the Apex System."

Silence stretched on the line. I could hear the faint sound of opera music in the background.

"The Commission deal," Easton Jensen said. "That's the Roy Family's golden ticket."

"The Commission backed the system, not the man," I said. "I have the encryption keys. I have the source code. Without me, Caleb is just a drug dealer in a nice suit."

"And why are you bringing this to me?" Easton asked. "You're the Queen of the Roy empire."

"Not anymore," I said. "I've been exiled."

"I know," Easton said. "My spies told me ten minutes ago. I was wondering how long it would take you to break."

"I want protection," I said. "And I want a job."

"Come to the Nexus building," Easton said. "Don't stop for red lights."

I hung up.

I looked back at the compound. The lights were on in the office. Krystal was probably trying to figure out how to turn on the computer.

I got into my car.

I wasn't just leaving a job. I was declaring war.