Harlow walked out of the master bedroom. The wheels of her silver suitcase clattered against the hardwood floor as she made her way toward the grand spiral staircase.

She started down the steps, her posture rigid, her eyes fixed on the front door.

Heavy, chaotic footsteps thundered behind her. Beck was chasing her down the stairs, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"I'm calling the bank right now!" Beck roared, his face red with fury. "I'm cutting off every single supplementary credit card you have!"

Harlow reached the center of the massive marble living room. She stopped. She reached into her designer handbag, pulled out the heavy brass spare keys to the manor, and tossed them onto the expensive marble coffee table. They landed with a sharp clatter.

Beck sprinted around the sofa and threw himself in front of her. He spread his arms wide, blocking her path. He leaned forward, trying to use his larger frame to physically intimidate her.

"If you dare file those divorce papers," Beck snarled, spit flying from his lips, "I will make sure you walk away with absolutely nothing."

He smiled then. A cruel, ugly smile. He wanted to break her spirit completely.

"You think Fallon is just some woman?" Beck taunted. "Fallon is 'Isabella'. She's the Chief Operating Officer of our biggest rival, operating under her highly-guarded industry alias."

Harlow's breath hitched. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

"That's right," Beck boasted, puffing out his chest. "We are a power couple. We've been sharing resources. Holman Industries' market share will be ours soon."

The pieces clicked together in Harlow's mind. The recent, inexplicable failed bids. The leaked product designs. This wasn't just a dirty affair. This was corporate espionage. He was actively destroying her parents' legacy.

Beck saw her silence and mistook it for fear. He lifted his chin, looking incredibly smug.

"Admit you're wrong, Harlow. Apologize, and I might let you stay," Beck demanded.

He reached out his hand, aiming to pinch her chin and force her to look up at him, just like he always did when he wanted to assert control.

Harlow's eyes turned to ice.

She shifted her weight, pulled her right arm back, and channeled every ounce of her rage into her hand.

Smack!

The sound of the slap was deafening. It echoed off the high marble walls of the living room.

Harlow's palm struck Beck's cheek with brutal force. The impact snapped his head to the side. His expensive wire-rimmed glasses flew off his face and clattered onto the floor.

Beck staggered. He brought a trembling hand up to his rapidly swelling cheek. He tasted the sharp metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

He whipped his head back around to face her. His eyes were bloodshot. He raised his hand high into the air, ready to strike her back.

Harlow didn't flinch. She stood her ground, her spine perfectly straight. She stared directly into his furious eyes.

"Touch me," Harlow said. Her voice was low, but it carried a lethal weight. "Touch me, and I will make sure you are completely ruined on Wall Street."

Beck saw the absolute ruthlessness in her eyes. The hand hovering in the air trembled. Slowly, stiffly, he lowered his arm.

"I will never sign the divorce papers!" Beck screamed, his veins popping. "I will drag this out in court until you bleed dry!"

Harlow let out a cold, dismissive laugh. She expected nothing less from a parasite.

She calmly reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone. She didn't break eye contact with him.

She pressed the speed-dial button for the estate's private security firm and put it on speaker.

"Send a team inside immediately," Harlow ordered, her voice perfectly steady. "Escort my ex-husband, Mr. Chase, off my private property."

Beck shook with rage. He violently yanked at his tie, loosening it. He spat a curse under his breath and turned toward the front door.

Just before he stepped out, he looked over his shoulder. His eyes were filled with venom.

"You'll be back," Beck sneered. "You'll be on your knees begging me to take you back like a dog."

Harlow didn't even look at him. She pulled a wet wipe from her purse and meticulously wiped down her right hand, scrubbing the skin that had touched his face.

The heavy front doors slammed shut behind him.

Harlow tossed the used wipe into the trash can. Her eyes were hard. The war had just begun.

The next morning, Harlow sat in the manor's study. She was reviewing the joint asset accounts. Her stomach dropped. Beck had already secretly transferred a massive chunk of their shared funds into offshore accounts.

Her phone buzzed on the desk. It was a text from Beck.

Meet me at the cafe near Central Park. Final negotiation. Don't be late.

Harlow changed into a sharp, tailored black business suit. She slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses and drove her car into Manhattan.

The bell above the glass door chimed as Harlow stepped into the high-end cafe. The smell of roasted coffee beans filled the air.

Her sharp eyes scanned the room. She immediately spotted Beck sitting at a corner table by the window.

A wave of intense nausea hit her. Fallon was sitting right next to him.

Fallon was wearing a beige trench coat from Harlow's favorite designer brand. Around her neck rested a heavy diamond pendant. It was the exact necklace Beck claimed he bought for a "corporate client" last month.

Harlow kept her face blank. She walked over, pulled out the chair opposite them, and sat down. She didn't take off her sunglasses.

Beck didn't waste time. He slid a thick stack of legal documents across the polished wooden table.

He cleared his throat. "Here is the deal. We stay married on paper. It maintains the perfect family image," Beck explained, leaning forward. "It will stabilize Holman Industries' stock price. Everyone wins. As for Kade, we will simply adopt him legally under your name so he has legitimate status."

Harlow sat perfectly still.

Fallon leaned her head against Beck's shoulder. She smiled sweetly at Harlow.

"I'm willing to compromise for the greater good," Fallon cooed. "I don't mind if Kade has to call you his adoptive mother."

Harlow stared at them through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. Her stomach churned so violently she thought she might actually vomit.

Beck crossed his arms. "Let's be real, Harlow. You only know how to spend money. You don't understand complex business operations. If you leave me, the company dies."

Harlow leaned back in her chair. A mocking smile touched her lips.

"Your business talent?" Harlow asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You mean stealing your wife's corporate secrets to impress your mistress?"

Fallon's face went chalk-white. The sweet smile vanished. Her eyes instantly filled with tears, playing the victim perfectly.

Beck wrapped his arm around Fallon, pulling her close. He glared at Harlow. "Watch your mouth! You are vicious and uneducated!"

Harlow's patience snapped. The sheer audacity of these two parasites was suffocating.

She leaned forward and grabbed the thick stack of contract papers.

Beck watched in shock as Harlow gripped the edges of the document. With a violent jerk of her wrists, she ripped the thick stack in half.

She put the pieces together and ripped them again. And again.

When the contract was nothing but shredded confetti, she threw the pieces directly into Beck's face.

The sharp edges of the paper hit his cheeks. The shreds rained down over his expensive suit and tangled into Fallon's perfectly styled hair.

Harlow stood up abruptly. She towered over them, her aura radiating pure hostility.

She pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes were like daggers.

"The depths of your shamelessness truly exceed my imagination," Harlow said, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

Fallon swatted the paper shreds out of her hair, letting out a shrill scream. "You are a crazy bitch!"

Beck slammed his hands on the table and jumped to his feet. He pointed a shaking finger at Harlow's face. "Don't push me, Harlow! You don't want to do this the hard way!"

Harlow slapped his hand away. Her skin was ice-cold.

"Negotiations are over," Harlow stated flatly. "I'll see you in court."

She grabbed her designer handbag from the chair and turned to leave.

"I know the best legal team in New York!" Beck roared at her back, ignoring the stares of the other customers. "I will make sure you lose everything! You won't even have the clothes on your back!"

Harlow paused mid-step. She turned her head slightly, giving him a profile of absolute disdain.

"Is that so?" Harlow said softly. "Let's see whose lawyer wants blood more."

She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and walked out of the cafe, her heels clicking sharply against the tile floor, leaving Beck and Fallon in a mess of torn paper.

Harlow stepped out of the cafe and onto the bustling Manhattan sidewalk. The biting autumn wind hit her face, blowing away the sickeningly sweet smell of the cafe's pastries.

She turned her head and looked through the large glass window.

Inside, Beck was furiously brushing paper shreds off his lapels. Fallon was picking pieces out of her hair.

Fallon looked up and caught Harlow's eye. Through the glass, Fallon offered a malicious, triumphant smile.

Fallon exaggerated the movement of her lips, mouthing the words clearly: You lose.

Harlow's jaw tightened. She let out a cold, dead laugh. She turned away and pulled open the heavy door of the black Maybach waiting at the curb.

She slid into the plush leather backseat. The door shut, sealing her in silence.

"Find out which law firm Beck has been contacting recently," Harlow ordered immediately.

In the front passenger seat, her assistant, Eileen Ruiz, rapidly tapped on her tablet.

"He's been in talks with the partners at Pearson Hardman," Eileen reported, her brow furrowing. "They are notorious for using extremely dirty tactics."

Harlow narrowed her eyes. Her fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic beat against the leather armrest. Her brain processed the data at lightning speed.

To kill a rabid dog, you needed a bigger, more ruthless predator.

Harlow leaned forward. "Book me an appointment with Fitzgerald 'Fitz' Monroe."

Eileen gasped. Her fingers froze over the screen. She turned to look at Harlow with wide eyes.

"Boss," Eileen said, her voice shaking slightly. "Fitz Monroe is the heir to the Monroe Group. His firm only handles multi-billion dollar corporate mergers. He never takes divorce cases."

Eileen swallowed hard. "Rumor has it he is completely heartless. He hates messy personal drama. He's rejected dozens of billionaires."

Harlow leaned back against the seat. A dangerous, confident light sparked in her eyes.

"I know," Harlow said. "But I have a bargaining chip he cannot refuse."

She pulled her phone from her purse. She tapped the screen and brought up a highly classified financial report, followed by an underground gossip brief regarding the Monroe family.

The brief read: Monroe patriarch, Fitzgerald Sr. , issues ultimatum. If Fitz does not marry soon, his controlling shares in the family trust fund will be frozen.

Harlow's lips curled into a calculating smile. An enemy's weakness was the best key to their door.

Eileen looked stressed. "His schedule is highly classified. Regular appointments are booked out until next year."

Harlow reached into the hidden zipper compartment of her handbag. She pulled out a thick, black magnetic card. The edges were slightly yellowed, but the dark, embossed logo of the Monroe Group was unmistakable.

"This is the highest-level access pass my father received when he invested in the early construction of the Monroe building," Harlow said, staring at the card. "Let's hope they haven't updated their legacy security systems."

The Maybach merged into the heavy traffic, speeding toward the financial district.

Inside the car, the air was thick with tension. Harlow closed her eyes, mentally simulating the upcoming negotiation.

Miles away, inside the cafe, Beck smirked as he hit 'send' on an email to Pearson Hardman, confirming their retainer. He was absolutely certain Harlow couldn't find anyone to match his legal firepower.

The Maybach glided to a smooth stop in front of the towering, glass-and-steel fortress of the Monroe Group headquarters.

Harlow pushed the car door open. She stepped out onto the pavement and tilted her head back, looking up at the intimidating skyscraper. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the cold city air.

She smoothed down the front of her black suit, ensuring there wasn't a single wrinkle.

She gripped the black magnetic card tightly in her hand. Her eyes were sharp, focused, and deadly.

She leaned down and looked at Eileen through the open car window.

"Keep the 'Scorched Earth' protocol on standby," Harlow instructed, her voice dead serious. "If you receive a text from me with the code word 'execute,' or if you haven't heard from me by the end of the day, initiate phase one."

It was the code to begin revoking all her AI core licenses from Holman Industries.

Eileen nodded solemnly, watching her boss walk away.

Harlow turned and marched through the revolving glass doors of the Monroe building, ready to walk into the lion's den.