Rise of the Formidable Ex-wife (Lucia and Alex) novel Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Margaret paced her bedroom. Back and forth. Back and forth. Her hands were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her jaw ached. Rage surged through her veins like molten fire, scorching every calm thought.

Lucia.

That pathetic housewife. That nothing. That mediocre waste of space.

Standing there in emeralds, dripping in diamonds, on Alexander Kane’s arm. The trillionaire. The most powerful man in America. The man Marco had been desperate to meet for years.

And she was with him. Touching him. Smiling with him. Being looked at, desired, worshipped.

How? How had that woman gone from discarded wife to this? How had she transformed overnight into someone untouchable, someone powerful, someone admired?

Margaret grabbed the nearest pillow. Threw it across the room. It hit the wall and fell. Useless. Hollow. The impact did nothing to relieve her storming mind.

Her eyes scanned the room. The bedroom was perfect. Everything exactly as she wanted. The furniture gleamed. The carpet was flawless. The walls immaculate.

All purchased with Marco’s money. Marco’s money that was now crumbling. His fortune evaporating like smoke.

Meanwhile, Lucia had Alexander Kane. She had everything Margaret had once imagined for herself: wealth, influence, power, freedom. She had the life Margaret had believed she had destroyed forever.

Margaret had won. Or so she thought. She had ended Lucia’s marriage, taken her husband, taken her home, replaced her completely. That should have been the final blow, the ultimate victory.

But it wasn’t.

Lucia had not disappeared. She had not faded into nothingness. She had become more than Margaret could ever be. More than Margaret could take.

“No,” Margaret said aloud, her voice breaking the silence. “No. That is not right. That is not how this works.” Her hands shook as she turned toward the window. Her reflection stared back at her. Beautiful, perfect, untouchable–on the surface. Inside, she was rotting with jealousy.

A soft knock came at the door.

“Go away,” she snapped.

The door opened anyway. Monica stood there. Small, hesitant, her eyes red and swollen from crying. “I said go away,” Margaret spat.

“I just… I wanted to ask,” Monica began, voice shaking. “Ria and Lucas said they saw Mom tonight. At the gala. Is that true?”

Mom. The word grated. Lucia did not deserve that title. Did not deserve these children.

“Yes,” Margaret said, her voice dripping with contempt. “They saw her. So what?”

Monica stepped inside and closed the door. “How was she? Did she look… did she seem… does she still want us?”

Margaret laughed. It was harsh, bitter, and full of venom. “Want you? Are you serious? She has a new daughter now. That girl, Lena, calling her Mom right in front of your brother and sister. She has replaced you. All of you. She does not want you anymore.”

Monica’s face crumpled. “But maybe… maybe if we apologized… maybe if we told her we were wrong maybe she would forgive us. Maybe she would come back. Be our mom again.”

The hope in her voice was pitiful. Desperate. Margaret felt bile rise in her throat

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“She is not coming back,” Margaret said, her voice cold and hard. “She is with Alexander Kane now A trillionaire. Why would she want you? Why would she want this life when she already has everything?” “But she is our mom. She has to still love us, right?” Monica’s small voice trembled.

“Love?” Margaret’s voice cracked as she grabbed a heavy jewelry box from the dresser. She threw it across the room. Monica barely dodged. The box smashed against the wall, spilling fake diamonds, pearls, and gold across the carpet. Margaret’s fury burned hotter with each shard of shattered glass

“She does not love you,” Margaret shouted. “She left you! She chose to leave! She has been gone for months. What has she done? Has she called? Written? Tried to see you? No! She has found a new daughter, a replacement. Someone better. Someone who actually wants her, unlike all of you!”

Monica stumbled backward, tears streaming down her face. “L… I am sorry. I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to know if she asked about me. About us.”

“She did not ask. She does not care,” Margaret barked, her hands shaking. “She looked at Ria and Lucas like they were strangers. Like they meant nothing. Because that is what you are. Nothing. Burdens she is happy to be rid of.”

“That’s not true,” Monica whispered.

“Is it not?” Margaret demanded, stepping closer, towering over her. “Then why is she not here? Why hasn’t she fought for you? Why hasn’t she tried to get you back? Because you are a burden. A burden to her. To me. To everyone.”

Monica flinched. Margaret felt a cruel satisfaction. This was the pain she had felt for months, mirrored back at her by the girl who still clung to hope.

“Get out,” Margaret said, voice shaking. Rage mixed with something uglier–envy, fear, inadequacy. “Get out of my room. Out of my sight. You remind me of her. Of how she won. Of how she has everything while I am left with nothing.”

Monica ran. The door slammed. Footsteps echoed down the hall. Sobs lingering in the air like a ghost. Margaret looked around at the wreckage. The scattered jewelry, the broken box. She breathed hard. Good. Let the girl cry. Let her feel some of the loss Margaret felt. Let her know what it was like to be less than, to be inadequate, to be left behind.

The door opened again. This time it was Marco. His face pale, his eyes tired, holding back anger and exhaustion.

“What the hell was that?” he asked quietly, the danger in his voice barely contained.

“Nothing,” Margaret said, her voice clipped. “Just telling Monica the truth.”

“The truth? You threw something at her. Called her a burden. Made her cry.”

“She is a burden. All of them are. Your children, your problems, the baggage I have to deal with.”

“You knew I had children when you married me,” Marco said, voice steady.

“I knew. I just didn’t know they would be constant reminders of her. Of how she is better than me. How she has what I cannot have.”

Marco stepped fully into the room, shutting the door behind him. “This isn’t about the children. This is about you. About your ego. About the fact that Lucia showed up tonight looking radiant, powerful, unstoppable And you cannot handle it.”

“Of course I cannot handle it!” Margaret screamed. Her voice cracked, shrill and raw. “She was supposed to be nothing! She was supposed to disappear! To stay broken! Stay destroyed! Stay beneath me!”

“But she did not.”

“No. She did not. She became everything. Everything I am supposed to be. Everything I worked for. Everything! destroyed her to get. And she has it anyway. She has it without me. Without you. Without any of us.”

Margaret grabbed a crystal vase. Threw it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces. She grabbed

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Chapter 37

another. A picture frame from the mantle. Shattered it too.

“She wins!” she screamed. “She gets Alexander Kane! She gets billions! She gets everything! While I am here with you, with the failing company, with ungrateful children, with nothing!”

“You have everything you wanted,” Marco said calmly. “The house. The lifestyle. The marriage.”

“I do not have everything! I have scraps! A sinking ship! And you!” Her eyes blazed. “Do you know how pathetic

it is? I left my freedom, my modeling, my life, for you, for this! And now she is with a man worth trillions while you are… worth less every day, every hour!”

Marco’s expression hardened. “Then leave. If this life is not enough, leave.”

Margaret blinked, startled. “What?”

“Leave,” he said. “Find another life. Another man. Another victim. Clearly, this one is not sufficient for you” “You do not mean that.”

“Do I not? Because right now, I am looking at you. And I see exactly what Lucia saw tonight. Someone small. Someone cruel. Someone unworthy of what they have stolen.”

“How dare you!” Margaret shouted.

“How dare I?” Marco stepped closer. “You just threw things at a thirteen–year–old girl. Called her a burden. Made her cry. Because you are jealous? Because she has what you could not earn? Because she is winning while you are losing?”

“I am not losing!”

“You are,” he said, voice sharp. “We all are. The company, the money, the life we built. And you are destroying what is left, piece by piece, person by person.”

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