---- Chapter 7 Alexandra Smith POV: The divorce papers felt like a declaration of war in my hands. The next day, | didn't wait for Edward to be served. | drove to his villa myself. | found them in the living room-Edward, Dianne, and Carla-a perfect little portrait of treachery. Edward was reading the paper, ignoring me completely. Dianne and Carla smirked, their eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction. "Back for more, are we?" Dianne sneered. | ignored her. | walked to the marble coffee table and slammed the thick stack of papers down in front of Edward. The sound echoed in the silent room. "| want a divorce," | announced, my voice as cold and hard as the tabletop. Edward finally looked up from his paper, an arrogant, dismissive arch to his eyebrow. "No." The single word, spoken with such casual certainty, made my blood boil. "We made a vow, Alexandra," he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Til death do us part.' Remember?" ---- "That vow was broken the moment you decided to murder our child," | shot back. "My mother made me promise on her deathbed to live a happy life. Staying married to you is a betrayal of that promise. | will not break it." "How touching," Dianne scoffed. "Using your dead mother as an excuse. You truly have no shame." Edward picked up the papers without reading them and, with a grand gesture, tossed them into the nearby fireplace. The flames licked at the edges, turning the legal jargon into ash. "The answer is no," he repeated, his gaze locking with mine. "You're my wife. You're not going anywhere." He then turned and walked out of the room, as if the matter was settled. | turned to Dianne, a chillingly calm smile on my face. "That's fine. I've already filed a lawsuit. The court will decide. And when they hear about the corporate espionage, the conspiracy, and the... accident... | wonder how that will reflect on the Cardenas family name." Dianne's face went white with fury. She lunged at me, but Carla, surprisingly, held her back. "Let her go, Dianne," Carla said, her voice smooth as silk. "She's just thrashing around. She has no power here." | used their momentary distraction to head upstairs to our-to his-master bedroom to pack what little | had left there. The room was a shock. My personal touches were gone. My ---- books were replaced with fashion magazines. My side of the closet was filled with Carla's brightly colored dresses. Even the photos on the nightstand had been replaced. A picture of me and Edward on our wedding day was gone, and in its place was a smiling photo of him and Carla. A wave of nausea and a profound sense of violation washed over me. This had been my sanctuary. Now, it was enemy territory. | pushed the feeling down, my resolve hardening. | grabbed a suitcase from the back of the closet and began throwing my remaining clothes into it. "Looking for something?" | turned. Carla was leaning against the doorframe, a smug, proprietary look on her face. "Don't bother packing," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Everything in this house belongs to me now. Including the clothes on your back." "You can have his trash," | retorted, not missing a beat as | folded a sweater. "l can't imagine you'd want anything that wasn't picked over by someone else first." Her face tightened, her eyes narrowing into slits. She stormed into the room, grabbed a silk blouse from my hands, and ripped it in two. "You bitch," she hissed. "You think you're so clever. Running off to your old mentor. Did you sleep with him yet? Or are you saving that for after the divorce you'll never get?" ---- "You're one to talk about sleeping around," | shot back, my voice dripping with contempt. "Tell me, Carla, what's it like being the other woman? The home-wrecker? Does it make you feel powerful?" Her composure finally snapped. She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. "You want to know what makes me feel powerful?" she whispered, her face inches from mine. "Knowing the truth. Knowing that your mother was a murderer." The world tilted. "What did you say?" "Oh, didn't you know?" she purred, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Your precious mother. She's the one who killed Edward's mother. Pushed her down a flight of stairs. Everyone knows. You're the daughter of a killer, Alexandra. It's in your blood." The rage that surged through me was primal, blinding. | didn't think. | just reacted. | slapped her. Hard. Harder than | had before. She stumbled back, a look of genuine shock on her face. The smugness was gone, replaced by a flicker of fear. In that moment, she saw that | was not the broken, weeping woman she expected. | was something else entirely. Something dangerous. From downstairs, | heard the sound of urgent footsteps on ---- the stairs. Carla's eyes darted towards the sound, and a cunning, terrible idea lit up her face. 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