Ten minutes into our divorce trial, my lawyer husband stood in a packed Atlanta courtroom, laughed in my face, and demanded half of my $12 million company plus the sacred trust my late father left me while my own mother and sister sat behind him smiling like they had finally watched me break

This was what Elias had hoped for but had not counted on receiving so easily: a direct line into the shell company.

I made a show of opening my checkbook.

“Do you want a check or wire?”

“Check’s fine.”

I wrote it slowly.

Fifty thousand dollars for services never rendered.

I tore it out and handed it over. He took it with a smile so smug it nearly glowed.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Vivien,” he said as he rose. “Try to make it to Sunday dinner. Your mother says Julian needs more attention.”

When the door shut behind him, a second door inside my office suite opened.

Elias stepped out from the adjoining conference room where he had been listening the entire time.

“You got it?” he asked.

I handed him the card.

He looked at the numbers and gave a low hum of satisfaction.

“Track every penny,” I said.

He did.

If revenge has a pulse, it often sounds like paperwork.