His Lethal Wife: The Heiress's Vicious Comeback

The flashbulbs of the paparazzi turned the night outside The Plaza Hotel into blinding daylight.

A fleet of black Maybachs and Rolls-Royces lined Fifth Avenue. The elite of New York clutched their black-and-gold invitations, stepping onto the red carpet.

Arthur Vance stood near the velvet ropes. His face was tight with suppressed rage. Beside him stood Sophia, his stepdaughter, shivering in a thin designer dress.

"Name?" the massive Blackwater security guard asked. His face was a brick wall.

"Arthur Vance," Arthur snapped. "I am the father of the bride."

The guard checked his tablet. He didn't look up. "You are not on the list. Step aside."

Arthur's face flushed purple. The socialites behind him began to whisper, their eyes filled with cruel amusement.

Sophia bit her lip. Her nails dug into her expensive clutch. She hated Eleanor. She hated that the pathetic loser was suddenly the center of the universe.

Arthur spotted a Wall Street banker he knew. He grabbed the man's arm and aggressively talked his way in as the man's "plus two."

They pushed through the heavy doors into the Grand Ballroom.

Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the sea of silk and diamonds. The room hummed with the nervous energy of a hundred predators waiting for the main event.

Sophia grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She joined a circle of young heiresses.

"She must have drugged him," Sophia whispered venomously. "Eleanor can't even look a man in the eye without crying. She's a freak."

Suddenly, the string quartet stopped playing. The music shifted to a deep, commanding cello piece.

The massive carved doors at the top of the grand staircase opened.

The ballroom fell dead silent.

Vivian stood at the top of the stairs. Her hand rested lightly on Ethan Thorne's arm.

She wore a midnight-blue haute couture gown. The silk clung to her athletic, toned body like a second skin. Around her neck rested the Thorne family's heirloom sapphire. The massive stone pulsed with a cold, heavy light.

But it wasn't the dress or the jewels that paralyzed the room. It was her eyes.

She looked down at the crowd with the absolute, chilling arrogance of a queen surveying her subjects. There was no trace of the broken girl they remembered.

Sophia's hand shook. The champagne sloshed over the rim of her glass, staining her dress. Her chest heaved with toxic jealousy.

Arthur stared, his mouth slightly open. He didn't recognize the dangerous woman descending the stairs.

Ethan leaned down. His lips brushed the shell of Vivian's ear.

"Your mask is flawless tonight," Ethan murmured. His breath was warm against her skin. "You look like you own them."

Vivian didn't look at him. She kept her eyes on the crowd.

"It's part of the package you bought," Vivian whispered back. "Control your face, Ethan. You look like you're actually in love with me."

Ethan's chest rumbled with a low chuckle. The cameras flashed, capturing what looked like a moment of intense, private passion.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. The crowd parted instantly.

Arthur saw his chance. He adjusted his tie. He grabbed Sophia's arm and dragged her through the crowd, stepping directly into Ethan and Vivian's path.

"Eleanor, my darling!" Arthur boomed. He plastered a sickeningly fake smile on his face. He held his arms out, playing the loving father for the cameras.

Ethan stopped. His jaw tightened. He looked at Arthur like he was a cockroach on the marble floor. He didn't extend his hand.

The silence stretched. Arthur's arms hung awkwardly in the air. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Sophia stepped forward. She put on a pathetic, sweet smile. She reached out to grab Vivian's hands.

"Sister," Sophia cooed. "We're so happy for you."

Vivian's eyes went flat.

A fraction of a second before Sophia's fingers could touch her skin, Vivian took a precise half-step backward.

Sophia's hands grasped empty air.

Vivian looked Sophia up and down, her gaze lingering on the spilled champagne stain.

"Otto," Vivian called out. Her voice was sharp and clear.

Ethan had assigned Otto to her personal detail earlier that evening, a silent acknowledgment of her capabilities and a way to keep his own eyes on her.

The massive security chief stepped out from the shadows instantly.

"Why are there uninvited guests loitering in my ballroom?" Vivian asked. She didn't look at Arthur or Sophia. She looked past them.

The crowd gasped.

Arthur's face turned a violent shade of red. Sophia's fake smile shattered.

Otto gestured. Four heavily armed guards stepped forward, forming a tight wall around Arthur and Sophia.

"Sir. Ma'am. You need to leave," Otto said.