Rise of the Formidable Ex-wife (Lucia and Alex) novel Chapter 70

Margaret’s phone would not stop.

It had been like this for three days.

At first, she thought it was noise. Just gossip. People talking. It would pass. It always did. Scandals came and went. Names trended and disappeared. She had seen it happen to others. She had even whispered about them once, sitting comfortably in her perfect world, believing she was different.

Untouchable.

Now her phone kept lighting up like a warning she could not silence.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the screen as if it might burn her if she touched it again.

At first it had been messages.

Then emails.

Now it was just alerts. Notifications. Headlines. Mentions.

Her name everywhere.

Not in admiration.

Not in praise.

In disgust.

She picked up the phone again, slow this time, like she was afraid of what it would show her.

A message from Cassandra.

Margaret opened it. Her chest tightened before she even finished reading.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t be seen associating with you right now. My husband’s firm is already asking questions. You understand.”

Margaret stared at the words.

Five years.

Five years of dinners, parties, late–night conversations, secrets whispered over wine. Cassandra had stood beside her at her wedding. Had held her hand, told her she deserved everything she had.

Now this.

You understand.

Margaret let out a small laugh that didn’t sound like her own.

Understand?

She typed a reply. Deleted it. Typed again.

Her fingers stopped.

What was she supposed to say?

That she was still the same person?

That nothing had changed?

Even she did not believe that anymore.

Another message came in before she could think further.

Different name.

Same tone.

“My circle can’t handle this kind of attention right now. I wish you the best.”

Wish you the best.

Polite words for rejection.

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Chapter 70

Another one.

And another.

Each message a quiet door closing.

Each one cutting a little deeper

Margaret dropped the phone beside her and pressed her hands into her face.

This was not supposed to happen like this.

People were supposed to stand by her.

At least some of them.

At least one.

But they were disappearing one by one, like she had never mattered to them at all.

Her eyes moved slowly to her laptop.

Still open.

Still glowing.

Still waiting.

She already knew what was there.

But something inside her forced her to look again.

Like touching a wound just to confirm it still hurt.

The headline stared back at her.

“Margaret Hart’s Hidden Finances and Criminal Ties Exposed”

Her stomach twisted.

She clicked it.

The article loaded slowly, painfully, like it was taking its time to ruin her.

Her name.

Her accounts.

Her life.

All laid out.

Numbers filled the screen. Dates. Transfers. Records she had never expected anyone to see.

Her breath grew shallow.

Fifteen million.

Over eighteen months.

The words blurred for a second before her vision cleared again.

She remembered those transfers.

Of course she did.

Every gift. Every trip. Every moment she told herself she deserved it.

Paris.

Monaco.

Dubai.

She remembered laughing, feeling admired, desired, chosen.

Now those memories felt dirty.

Exposed.

The article did not stop.

It went deeper.

The house.

The brownstone in Tribeca.

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Her safe place.

Hei pride

Bought in her name.

Paid by him.

Two million dollars.

Cash

Her fingers tightened on the edge of the laptop

They knew everything.

Not guesses.

Not rumors.

Proof

Documents.

Receipts.

Even the dates matched perfectly.

She felt something cold settle in her chest.

This was not a leak.

This was not luck.

This was someone digging.

Someone searching.

Someone who wanted her destroyed down to the smallest detail.

Her phone rang.

Unknown number.

She hesitated.

Then answered.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Hart, this is Diana Rice from Women’s Wear Daily.”

Margaret closed her eyes.

Of course.

“I’m calling to give you a chance to comment before we publish.”

“Publish what?” Her voice came out thinner than she expected.

“Our investigation into your financial relationship with Trenton Navajo. We have documents showing long–term financial support, property purchases, and communication between the two of you regarding his business activities.”

Margaret’s hand started to shake.

Communication.

What did she mean by that?

“We also have access to messages where discretion is discussed,” the woman continued calmly. “We’d like your response before the article goes live.”

Margaret’s mind raced.

Messages?

No.

Those were private.

Protected.

“No comment,” she said quickly, and ended the call before her voice could betray her.

She sat there for a long moment.

Very still.

Chapter 70

Very quiet.

Hei heart was beating too fast.

Messages:

They had her messages.

That meant this was not just someone leaking information.

This was someone who had gone into her life.

Opened it.

Read it.

Taken everything.

Her chest rose and fell sharply.

“Who…” she whispered.

Who would do this?

Who could do this?

Not just hurt her.

Destroy her.

Completely.

The front door slammed downstairs.

The sound echoed through the house.

Heavy footsteps followed.

Fast.

Unsteady.

Margaret stood just as Marco appeared in the doorway.

He looked different.

Not just tired.

Broken.

His tie was loose. His shirt wrinkled. His eyes… she had never seen them like that before.

“It’s over,” he said.

Just two words.

But they landed like something heavy.

“What do you mean?”

“The company.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s gone.”

Margaret stared at him.

“No. You said-”

“I know what I said,” he snapped, then softened immediately. “I thought I had time.”

“What happened?”

“The suppliers,” he said. “All five of them. They pulled out today. All of them. Within hours.”

Margaret felt the room tilt slightly.

“That’s not possible.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s not supposed to happen like that.”

He let out a bitter breath.

“But it did.”

“No warning?”

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“None that mattered. They all had reasons. Better offers. New deals. Risk concerns. But it was too clean. Too perfect.”

Margaret slowly turned the laptop toward him.

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“And this came out today.”

Marcu stepped closer.

Read.

His expression changed as he went through the article.

“They have everything,” he said quietly.

‘Yes.”

He looked at her.

“This isn’t random.”

“No.”

Silence filled the room.

Heavy.

Thick

Both of them thinking the same thing.

Neither wanting to say it first.

“Someone is doing this,” Margaret said slowly.

Marco nodded.

“To both of us.”

She swallowed.

“Not just me.”

“Not just you.”

Their eyes met.

Understanding settled between them.

Cold.

Clear.

Unavoidable.

“Who?” she asked, even though something deep inside her already knew.

Marco’s jaw tightened.

“There’s only one person who would want this.”

Margaret felt her stomach drop.

“No…”

“Think about it,” he said. “The timing. The precision. The access.”

Her heart started to pound.

“No,” she repeated, softer now.

す

“Who else has the reason?” he continued. “Who else has the resources?”

Margaret took a step back.

Her mind flashed.

Lucia.

The quiet woman they had dismissed.

The one they had broken.

The one they had called nothing.

“She wouldn’t…” Margaret said, but the words felt weak even to her.

Marco let out a hollow laugh.

“You still think she’s the same woman?”

Margaret didn’t answer.

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Because she didn’t know anymore–

everything happening felt too calculated.

Too clean.

Too complete.

Her phone buzzed again.

Another alert.

Another article.

Another piece of her life being torn open.

“She’s destroying us,” Marco said.

Margaret sank slowly back onto the bed.

It finally settled.

Not panic.

Not fear.

Something deeper.

Something heavier.

This was not chaos.

This was revenge.

Careful.

Patient.

Precise.

And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Marco grabbed his keys.

“I’m going to her.”

Margaret looked up sharply.

“What?”

“I’m going to talk to her.”

“You think she’ll stop?”

“I have to try.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Marco paused at the door.

For a second, he looked like a man who already knew the answer.

“Then we lose everything,” he said quietly.

And he left.

The door closed behind him.

The house fell silent again.

Margaret sat there alone.

Her phone still buzzing.

Her life still collapsing.

She looked around the room.

Everything looked the same.

The bed.

The mirror.

The clothes.

But none of it felt like hers anymore.

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Chapter 70

She stoud slowly.

Walked to the mirror

Stared at her reflection.

Her face looked tired.

Older.

Not the woman people admired.

Not the woman who controlled every room she walked into.

Just someone exposed.

Stripped.

Seen.

Her eyes filled with tears.

She blinked them back.

“No,” she whispered.

She reached for the nearest thing on the dresser.

A glass bottle.

Threw it.

It shattered against the wall.

The sound echoed.

Loud.

Sharp.

Real.

Her chest heaved.

Another item.

Gone.