MY HUSBAND THREW ME TWENTY DOLLARS

The boardroom completely emptied in a matter of seconds, the cowardly executives scrambling frantically to sign their immediate resignation papers.

I stood alone in the massive penthouse, actively watching the chaotic city traffic far below.

The corporate coup was entirely crushed, the servers were safely rebooted, and my father's empire was once again firmly under my absolute control.

The private elevator chimed softly, and the heavy metal doors slid open.

Derek Vale walked slowly into the lobby, wearing a cheap, wrinkled suit and heavily bandaged from the bullet graze on his shoulder.

He had somehow managed to sneak onto a commercial flight back to New York, completely assuming that Eleanor had successfully taken over the company and that I was dead.

He strutted arrogantly toward the boardroom, fully expecting to claim the massive corner office he had always coveted.

When he saw me standing by the window, entirely unharmed and completely in charge, his face violently drained of all remaining color.

He dropped his cheap leather bag, his knees instantly buckling beneath him as the horrific reality of his situation set in.

He fell heavily to the floor, crying pathetically and aggressively begging for my forgiveness for the hundredth time.

He swore he had only helped Eleanor because she had explicitly threatened his life, claiming he was secretly trying to protect me from her wrath the entire time.

I walked slowly toward him and looked down at his bruised, pathetic face with absolute, unyielding disgust.

I told him that I had already frozen every single offshore account Eleanor possessed, leaving her completely bankrupt and entirely vulnerable to her violent European creditors.

Derek realized instantly that his powerful protector was entirely gone, and he was completely alone.

I nodded to the shadows in the corner of the room, and two massive, heavily tattooed men stepped forward.