Cordelia walked into the mahogany-paneled library. Her hand shook slightly as she pushed the heavy double doors shut.

She turned the brass lock. A sharp click echoed in the quiet room. No one, especially Julian, could interrupt her now.

She leaned her back against the solid wood. She closed her eyes. A single tear, heavy with the residual grief for the unborn child she lost in her past life, slipped down her cheek.

She quickly wiped it away. Her expression hardened.

She walked over to the massive oak desk in the center of the room. She sat down in Julian's leather chair. She reached down and opened the bottom drawer.

She pulled out a heavy, fireproof lockbox. It contained her pre-marital assets and legal documents.

She inputted the code. Her fingers moved mechanically. Her mind flashed back to the freezing delivery room. She saw Julian's signature on the medical release form, condemning her to death.

The lockbox clicked open.

Inside lay the deeds to the Manhattan penthouses and the Hamptons estate her grandfather had left her.

Cordelia began sorting through the thick stacks of paper. She made mental notes of which properties Julian had secretly leveraged for the Astor group in her previous life.

A soft knock sounded at the library door.

"Julian..." Ava's sickeningly sweet, timid voice called out from the hallway. "Cordelia said she had a migraine earlier. I brewed some chamomile tea to show my gratitude... Should we check on her?"

Cordelia froze. Her fingers tightened around a property deed, crinkling the thick paper. She suppressed a violent urge to rip the door open and scream at the woman who ruined her life.

Cordelia remained dead silent. She stared at the locked door. She refused to give the manipulator the satisfaction of an audience.

Outside, the hallway was quiet for a few seconds.

Then, a loud crash shattered the silence.

Ava intentionally dropped the porcelain teacup. It shattered loudly against the hardwood floor.

Ava let out a pathetic, dramatic gasp. She immediately started to sob.

Heavy footsteps quickly approached down the hallway.

"Ava? Are you hurt?" Julian's voice rang out, laced with deep concern. He completely ignored the locked library door.

"I'm sorry," Ava whimpered. "I was just trying to be nice to Cordelia. I got startled and dropped the tray."

Julian knocked aggressively on the library door.

"Cordelia! Open this door," Julian demanded. "Stop acting like a child."

Cordelia calmly placed the documents back into the lockbox. She locked it and shoved it back into the drawer. Her face was devoid of any emotion.

She walked to the door. She unlocked it and pulled it open abruptly.

Julian had his fist raised, ready to pound on the wood again. He stumbled forward slightly.

Cordelia looked down at the shattered porcelain and the spilled tea staining the floor. Then, she shifted her cold gaze to Ava's fake, tear-streaked face.

"This is unacceptable, Cordelia," Julian scolded. His jaw was tight. "You are making her feel unwelcome in our home."

"The cleaning staff is paid to handle messes, Julian," Cordelia cut him off mid-sentence. Her voice was flat. "I am not."

She stepped right over the broken glass with her designer heels. She didn't spare Ava a second glance.

Julian grabbed her arm as she passed him. His grip was tight. His eyes searched hers, desperate to find the jealousy he expected to see.

Cordelia looked down at his large hand gripping her navy sleeve. A wave of mild disgust washed over her face.

She pulled her arm free with a sharp, violent jerk.

"Don't touch me," Cordelia said. "The smell on you makes me absolutely sick."

Julian recoiled. He physically took a step back. He was genuinely shocked by her physical rejection and the venomous, unyielding disgust in her eyes. He had just come from the private clinic with Ava and felt a sudden, irrational flash of paranoia that she somehow knew.

Ava bit her lip. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She realized Cordelia was not playing the typical, hysterical jealous wife role.

Cordelia turned and walked toward the grand staircase.

"Keep the noise down," Cordelia tossed casually over her shoulder. "I have important calls to make."

She left them standing in the hallway, staring at her back as she ascended the stairs.

Cordelia entered the master bedroom. She locked the door behind her and walked straight to the French doors leading to the balcony.

She pushed them open and stepped out onto the stone balcony. The cool New York evening breeze bit through her blazer. It cleared the suffocating tension from her head.

She pulled out her phone. Knowing Julian's IT team rigorously monitored the estate's network, she couldn't afford to leave a single digital footprint. She swiftly removed her primary SIM card and inserted a pre-paid, untraceable burner chip she had hidden inside her phone case for emergencies. She scrolled right past Julian's contact and dialed a number saved only as "P. W."

The line rang twice.

"Wright speaking," Penelope Wright, a top-tier Manhattan divorce attorney, answered with a crisp, no-nonsense greeting.

Cordelia took a deep breath. Her voice was remarkably steady.

"Penelope. I need to trigger the exit clause in my prenup."

Penelope paused. The rapid sound of keyboard clacking in the background stopped instantly.

"Did Julian finally cross the line?" Penelope asked.

"Yes," Cordelia confirmed. She stared down at the guest wing windows below. A warm yellow light had just flickered on in Ava's room.

Penelope immediately switched into shark mode.

"I need your verbal authorization to audit Julian's offshore accounts in the Caymans," Penelope said.

"You have it," Cordelia instructed. "Trace every wire transfer made to Ava Monroe over the last six months. Leave no stone unturned."

"Julian will fight dirty to protect the Astor PR image," Penelope warned. "He will try to paint you as unstable. You need to act completely normal. Do not let him know we are looking."

Cordelia smirked into the cold night air.

"Don't worry," Cordelia promised. "I will be the perfect, blind wife until the trap is set."

They ended the call. Cordelia immediately deleted the call log.

She stepped back inside. She closed the French doors and drew the heavy blackout curtains, plunging the room into secure privacy.

She walked into the en-suite bathroom. She stripped off her clothes. She threw the navy blazer Julian had touched directly into the trash can.

She stepped into the shower. She turned the water to scalding hot. She scrubbed her skin with a loofah until it was bright red, desperately trying to wash away the phantom feeling of Julian's grip on her arm.

After her shower, she wrapped herself in a plush white robe. She sat on the edge of the massive, empty king-sized bed.

She checked the clock on the nightstand. It was past midnight.

Julian had not returned to the master suite.

Cordelia picked up a fashion magazine. She flipped through the glossy pages with genuine relaxation. A strange, intoxicating sense of liberation washed over her.

Down the hall, the faint sound of a door opening and closing echoed through the silent house. Cordelia didn't even flinch.

She reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. The room went pitch black. She lay down.

For the first time in three years, she fell asleep quickly. She was completely unbothered by her husband's absence.

The next morning, Cordelia woke up to sunlight streaming through a small gap in the curtains. She felt completely refreshed.

She dressed in a chic, casual cashmere sweater and fitted jeans. She prepared to head down for breakfast.

As she walked downstairs, she noticed the staff whispering in the hallway near the kitchen.

Maria, the housekeeper, quickly stopped talking as Cordelia approached. Maria looked extremely nervous and guilty.

Cordelia paused.

"Is breakfast ready in the sunroom, Maria?" Cordelia asked in a polite, even tone.

Maria stammers, avoiding eye contact. "Um, Mrs. Astor... Mr. Astor requested breakfast to be served in the guest wing this morning."

Cordelia's expression remained perfectly placid. Not a single muscle in her face twitched with jealousy.

She smiled warmly at Maria.

"That's fine," Cordelia said. "Just bring me a simple black coffee and a croissant, please."

Cordelia walked into the sunroom alone. She sat down at the wicker table, pulled out her iPad, and began reviewing her design studio's portfolio. She was completely at peace.