Rising From Ashes: The Jilted Ex-Wife

"Still packing up this cheap junk, sister?"

Claire Glenn stopped pulling the metal zipper of her suitcase. The heavy mahogany double doors of the Tribeca penthouse master bedroom stood wide open, pushed inward with brute force. Claire turned around. Everlee Glenn stood on the Persian rug in a custom Chanel tweed suit, one hand resting flat against her stomach, a triumphant smirk curving her red lips.

Claire took a slow breath to push down the nausea rising in her throat. Everlee was only the illegitimate daughter brought into the family by her father's mistress, yet she carried herself like royalty. Claire looked coldly at the calculating face that shared a slight resemblance to her own.

"Get out. This is still my private bedroom."

Everlee didn't step back. Instead, she clicked across the floor in her heels, pulled a black-and-white ultrasound printout from her Hermès bag, and tossed it onto Claire's open suitcase.

"Alexander took me to the clinic last night. Six weeks."

The tiny image on the thermal paper hit Claire's eyes like a blinding flash, making her vision blur. Her fingers curled tightly around the telescopic handle of the suitcase until her knuckles turned white. Three years of marriage to Wall Street billionaire Alexander Valenzuela came down to this piece of paper.

Everlee leaned in half a step, dropping her voice to a venomous whisper meant only for the two of them.

"A barren freak who can't even give birth to an heir shouldn't be hogging the Mrs. Valenzuela title."

Claire snapped her head up, her chest heaving as suppressed rage burned in her lungs. She raised her arm and pointed straight at the open doorway.

"I told you to get out! Don't make me call security!"

A bizarre, manic glint flashed across Everlee's eyes. She lunged forward and clamped her hand around Claire's right wrist, her long manicured nails digging deep into Claire's skin.

Stung by the sharp pain, Claire instinctively yanked her arm back to break free. The movement was small, barely a shove, but Everlee threw her entire body backward with theatrical force, ripping a bloodcurdling scream from her throat.

Claire's pupils shrank. She watched Everlee stumble backward through the open doorway and deliberately miss the top edge of the marble staircase outside the bedroom.

With a heavy thud of flesh hitting stone, Everlee tumbled down the five steps and curled into a tight ball at the bottom. Claire's mind went blank. Her legs felt like lead as she took two stiff steps forward, standing at the top of the landing and looking down.

"My baby! Help me, my baby!"

Everlee clutched her stomach, sobbing hysterically. On the white marble floor, a bright red streak of blood snaked slowly down the inside of her thigh.

The elevator at the end of the hall chimed open. The penthouse butler and three maids rushed out, freezing in horror at the sight of the blood. The butler fumbled for his phone to dial 911 as chaos erupted in the hallway. Claire walked down the steps, wanting to get a closer look at the blood, but two burly male servants stepped in front of her, blocking her path with guarded glares.

Held up by a maid, Everlee lifted her tear-streaked face and pointed a trembling finger at Claire.

"It was her... She was jealous of my baby. She pushed me..."

Twenty minutes later, wailing sirens tore through the Manhattan night as paramedics loaded Everlee onto a stretcher. Claire walked downstairs from the penthouse and followed the ambulance in a daze all the way to NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital. She leaned against the freezing tile wall outside the emergency room, her fingertips ice-cold.

Rapid, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. Edmonia Sharpe, the former matriarch of the Valenzuela family and Claire's snobbish mother-in-law, marched toward her flanked by two bodyguards.

Edmonia stopped directly in front of Claire. Without a word, she raised her left hand, heavy with a massive emerald ring, and slapped Claire hard across the face.

The sharp crack echoed down the empty hallway. Claire's head snapped to the side, the metallic taste of blood instantly filling her mouth.

Edmonia slammed her expensive cane against the floor, glaring at Claire like she was rotting garbage.

"You vicious lowlife! You're ruining this family! If anything happens to my grandson in Everlee's belly, I will bury you with him!"

Claire pressed her palm against her swollen, burning cheek and straightened her spine, looking directly into her mother-in-law's eyes.

"I didn't push her. She threw herself down the stairs."

The emergency room doors swung open. A doctor in a white coat pulled down his surgical mask and shook his head gravely at Edmonia.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Sharpe. We couldn't save the baby."

Edmonia let out a furious roar. Lunging forward like a madwoman, she shoved both hands violently against Claire's shoulders. Exhausted from days of mental torture, Claire lost her footing. The back of her head slammed hard against the tile wall behind her.

A wave of violent dizziness stripped away all her senses. Claire slid helplessly down the wall to the floor, her vision turning dark around the edges. Through the gap between the bodyguards' legs, she looked toward the automatic glass doors at the hospital entrance. Her husband, Alexander, was nowhere to be seen. Claire's eyelids drooped shut, a single hot tear sliding into her hair as black silence swallowed her whole.