Rise of the Formidable Ex-wife (Lucia and Alex) novel Chapter 94

Chapter 94

Chapter 94

Chapter 94

Marco pushed open the bedroom door with his shoulder, his right hand pressed against his swollen jaw where Alexander’s fist had connected with devastating force. His dress shirt was torn at the collar, stained with blood from his split lip. Dark bruises were already forming across his cheekbone, and his left eye was beginning to swell shut.

Margaret looked up from her vanity table where she had been applying expensive face cream, her mouth dropping open at the sight of her husband’s battered appearance

“Oh my God, Marco! What happened to you?” She stood quickly, her silk robe flowing around her as she moved toward him.

Marco walked past her without acknowledgment, heading straight for the bathroom mirror to assess the damage. His reflection showed a man who had been thoroughly beaten, not just physically, but emotionally destroyed. Alexander’s fists

had done their work well.

“Marco, answer me!” Margaret followed him into the bathroom, her voicè rising with alarm. “Were you in an accident? Did someone attack you?”

Marco met his wife’s eyes in the mirror, seeing the concern there that might have been genuine if he hadn’t known better. But after what had happened at Alexander’s brownstone, after feeling Lucia’s complete rejection, nothing Margaret said or did could penetrate the wall of rage surrounding his heart.

“I went to see her,” Marco said quietly, dabbing at his split lip with a washcloth.

“See who?” Margaret asked, though something in her voice suggested she already knew.

“Lucia.” Marco turned to face his wife directly. “I went to Alexander’s house to talk to her about the engagement.”

Margaret’s face went very still. “You did what?”

“I asked her to cancel the wedding. I asked her to come back to me,” Marco’s voice was flat, emotionless, like he was reading from a script.

“You asked your ex-wife to come back to you.” Margaret’s words came out slowly, each one dripping with disbelief and growing fury. “While you’re married to me.”

“Yes.”

The simple admission hung in the air between them like a grenade with the pin pulled. Margaret stared at her husband, processing what he had just confessed.

“And she said no, I assume, since you’re standing here looking like you went ten rounds with a professional boxer.”

“She said no,” Marco confirmed. “She said she belonged with Alexander now. She said she would never come back to me.” Margaret’s face began to flush red, but Marco continued as if he didn’t notice her mounting rage.

“So I reached for her. I tried to make her understand that what we had was real, that it still mattered.” Marco touched his swollen cheek gingerly. “That’s when Alexander walked in and decided to rearrange my face.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Margaret stood frozen in the bathroom doorway, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow.

“You tried to touch her,” Margaret repeated, her voice deadly quiet.

“I had to make her understand.”

“YOU WENT TO HER FIANCÉ’S HOUSE AND TRIED TO TOUCH HER!” Margaret exploded, her voice echoing off the bathroom tiles. “While you’re married to me!”

Marco finally looked at Margaret directly, and what she saw in his eyes made her blood run cold. There was no remorse, no shame, no recognition that he had done anything wrong. There was only anger that his plan had failed.

“She belonged to me first,” Marco said simply.

“She belonged to you?” Margaret’s voice rose to a shriek. “BELONGED TO YOU? What about me? What about our marriage? What about the vows you made to me?”

“What about them?” Marco asked, his voice growing colder. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing with Harrison Blackwell? You think I don’t know you’re already shopping for my replacement?”

Margaret’s mouth fell open. “That’s completely dif Successfully unlocked!

“Is it?” Marco laughed bitterly. “At least I was trying to get back someone I actually loved. You’re just looking for a bigger bank account.”

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“How dare you!” Margaret stepped closer, her face twisted with rage. “How dare you compare my networking to you trying twin back your ex-wife!”

-Networking?” Marco’s voice dripped with contempt. “Is that what you call having lunch with wealthy men while your

husband’s business falls apart? Is that what you call flirting with investors while I’m facing federal charges?”

“I’m protecting my future! Margaret screamed. “Something you clearly have no interest in doing!”

“Your future?” Marco turned away from the mirror to face her fully. “What about our future? What about standing by your husband during difficult times?

“I am standing by you!” Margaret protested. “I’ve been nothing but supportive!”

“Supportive?” Marco’s voice was ice. “Is that what you call having lunch with Harrison Blackwell? Is that what you call making connections with wealthier men while my world crumbles?”

“Those are business meetings!” Margaret’s voice rose defensively. “I’m networking for us, for our future! I’m not doing anything wrong!”

“You’re already shopping for my replacement,” Marco said coldly.

“That’s not true!” Margaret’s face flushed with indignation. “How can you accuse me of that when you’re the one who went crawling back to your ex-wife?”

“Because I never loved you the way I loved her,” Marco said quietly.

The confession hit Margaret like a physical blow. She staggered backward, her hand flying to her mouth.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.” Marco’s voice was matter-of-fact, cruel in its honesty. “I never loved you the way I loved Lucia. You were an escape, a distraction, a way to feel desired again. But Lucia was my real partner.”

Margaret’s face crumpled, but her tears quickly turned back to fury. “You bastard! You lying, cheating bastard!”

“I’m not lying now, Marco said. “I’m telling you the truth for the first/time since we met. You’re not Lucia. You’ll never be Lucia. You’re just a cheap imitation who happened to be young and pretty enough to catch my attention during a crisis.”

“Stop it,” Margaret whispered.

“You’re a gold-digging whore who saw a married man having problems with his wife and decided to cash in,” Marco continued relentlessly. “The only difference between you and a prostitute is that you got a ring instead of hourly payment.”

Margaret’s hand moved so fast Marco didn’t see it coming. Her/palm connected with his already bruised cheek with a sharp crack that echoed through the bathroom like a gunshot/

“Don’t you ever call me that again!” Margaret screamed, her voice hoarse with rage.

Marco’s head snapped to the side from the force of the slap, and when he turned back to face her, his eyes were black with fury. His hand rose in the air, pulled back and ready to strike.

“You want to hit me?” he snarled. “After everything you’ve put me through? After all the ways you’ve disappointed me?”

Margaret flinched backward, suddenly realizing she might have pushed him too far. Marco’s raised hand trembled with barely controlled violence, his face twisted with rage that went far beyond anything she had ever seen.

“Marco,” she started.

“Dad?”

Both of them froze at the sound of Ria’s voice from the bedroom doorway. Marco’s hand hung in the air between them, caught in the moment before violence, while Margaret pressed herself against the bathroom wall.

Ria stood in the bedroom entrance, her face pale with shock as she took in the scene before her. Her father’s battered appearance, her stepmother’s tear-streaked face, the tension crackling between them like electricity.

“What’s going on?” Ria asked quietly.

Marco slowly lowered his hand, the moment broken by his daughter’s presence. He looked from Margaret to Ria and back again, seeming to realize for the first time what he had been about to do.

“Nothing,” Marco said, his voice hoarse. “We were just discussing something.”

Ria’s eyes moved from her father’s bruised face to Margaret’s terrified expression. “Dad, what happened to your face?”

“I fell,” Marco lied automatically.

“You fell?” Ria’s voice was skeptical. “It looks like someone beat you up.”

Marco pushed past Margaret without another word, stalking out of the bathroom and across the bedroom toward the door.

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“Dad, walt, Ria called after him.

eave me alone Marco snarled without turning around. “Both of you just leave me alone.”

He slamined the bedroom door behind him with enough force to rattle the windows, leaving Ria and Margaret staring at

each other in stunned silence.

Margaret slumped against the bathroom wall, her legs suddenly too weak to support her. The adrenaline from their fight was wearing off, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion and the horrible realization of what her marriage had become.

“Margaret?” Ria approached cautiously. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Margaret looked at the girl who had once tolerated her, who had defended Marco against Lucia’s claims, who had believed in their relationship when everyone else doubted it. The same girl who had watched Margaret’s true nature emerge over the months, who had seen through the facade piece by piece.

“I need to be alone,” Margaret said quietly, not meeting Ria’s eyes.

“But Margaret, you’re upset, and Dad was about to…”

“Please,” Margaret interrupted, her voice breaking. “Just please leave me alone.”

Ria hesitated, clearly wanting to understand but unsure how. “Are you sure? You seem really shaken up.”

Margaret turned away, facing the bathroom mirror where her reflection showed a woman who looked nothing like the confident socialite she pretended to be. Her makeup was smeared, her hair disheveled, her face blotchy from crying.

“I said I need to be alone,” Margaret repeated firmly.

Ria stood there for another moment, watching Margaret’s shoulders shake with silent sobs. Finally, she backed toward the doer:

“If you need anything,” Ria started.

“I won’t,” Margaret said flatly. “Please go.”

Ria reluctantly left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Margaret waited until she heard footsteps retreating down the hallway before she allowed herself to collapse completely.

She slid down the bathroom wall until she was sitting on the cold marble floor, her silk robe pooling around her like spilled milk. The luxury that surrounded her, the expensive fixtures, the designer towels, the imported tile, all of it felt hollow now.

Marco’s words echoed in her head. “Cheap imitation.” “Gold-digging whore.” “I never loved you the way I loved her.”

The worst part wasn’t the names he had called her. The worst part was the cold certainty in his voice when he said he had never loved her the way he loved Lucia.

Margaret had known, deep down, that she was living in another woman’s shadow. But she had convinced herself that time would change things, that Marco would eventually see her value, that she could make him forget his first wife.

Instead, she had watched him grow more distant with each passing month. She had felt him comparing her to Lucia in a thousand small ways. How she decorated the house, how she interacted with his children, how she handled situations.

And now she knew the truth. She would never be enough. She would always be second best, a pale substitute for the woman Marco had thrown away in a moment of stupidity.

r

Margaret pulled her knees to her chest and allowed herself to cry, not the manipulative tears she had used so often to get her way, but real tears of genuine heartbreak and loss.

She thought about her childhood, about being eight years old and invisible to parents who worked double shifts and never noticed she existed. She had achieved the wealthy husband, the status, the expensive lifestyle.

But it all felt like ash now.

Outside the bathroom, she could hear the house settling around her, the soft hum of appliances, the whisper of air conditioning, the distant sound of Ria talking on the phone in her room.

All of it might be gone soon. Marco’s legal troubles were mounting, his assets would likely be frozen, and his business was crumbling under Lucia’s control.

But even if they kept their wealth, even if Marco somehow escaped prison, Margaret knew she would never have what she really wanted.

She would never be loved the way Lucia had been loved.

She would never be first choice instead of consolation prize.

She would never be anything more than a beautiful mistake that Marco regretted making.

Margaret closed her eyes and tried to imagine a future that didn’t include any of this. The mansion, the money, the status,

Chapter 94

the man who saw her as nothing more than a cheap replacement for something real.

And she couldn’t leave Couldn’t walk away. Because despite everything, despite the abuse and the names and the knowledge that she would never be enough, she needed this.

Needed the wealth. Needed the status. Needed to not go back to being that invisible eight-year-old girl.

So she would stay. She would endure. She would continue living in Lucia’s shadow, being compared and found wanting, being called a whore by the man whose ring she wore.

Because leaving meant admitting she had destroyed a family for nothing.

And Margaret couldn’t face that truth.

Not yet.

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