The Unwanted Wife And Her Ruthless Revenge novel by Herculie Dipietro

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I was in a one-year contract marriage with Blake, a powerful hockey star. I played the perfect, quiet wife while he still pined for his ex-girlfriend, Sophie.

On the night of our anniversary, I got a frantic call from the care home. Sophie had visited my grandmother, taunting her with intimate photos of her and Blake, and deliberately provoked her into a fatal heart attack.

When I confronted Blake at the hospital, he shielded a crying Sophie in his arms and coldly accused me of lying. He didn’t care that my only family was dead. Instead, he used his immense wealth to erase the care home’s security footage and threatened the only witness, a poor nurse, into changing her story. He even forced me to move back into his penthouse to maintain his public image, letting Sophie parade around my home.

When Sophie faked a fall to frame me, Blake got hurt trying to catch her. He glared at me with pure disappointment.

“Apologize. To her.”

I stared at the man I once thought I loved, my grief and despair solidifying into a cold, hard hatred. How could he demand I apologize to the woman who murdered my grandmother?

I didn’t cry or beg. I walked up to Sophie and slapped her across the face with all my strength.

Then, I secretly met with Blake’s biggest rival to make a deal. I would stay in Blake’s golden cage, but this time, I wasn’t the prisoner. I was the hunter.

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The Unwanted Wife And Her Ruthless Revenge Chapter 1

Emilia POV:
The single candle flame flickered, dancing in my eyes.
On the table sat a perfectly cooked steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus. A bottle of expensive red wine I couldn’t really afford was breathing on the counter.
Three years.
Our third wedding anniversary.
I glanced at my phone. Blank screen. No messages. No missed calls.
In three years of a PR contract marriage to Blake Sterling, captain of the Chicago Blackhawks, I should have been used to the silence. But a stupid, stubborn part of me still hoped.
My phone lit up, and my heart jumped into my throat. An unknown number. Maybe this was it. A surprise he’d arranged.
I swiped to answer, my voice a little too breathless. “Hello?”
“Is this Ms. Emilia Hayes?” a cold, professional voice asked. “This is Chicago General Hospital. Your grandmother, Eleanor Hayes, is in critical condition. We need you to come immediately.”
My fork slipped from my fingers, landing on the plush rug with a dull thud.
I grabbed my keys, my purse, and ran.
The drive was a blur. The city lights smeared across my windshield like wet paint. I turned on the radio, needing a distraction from the panic clawing at my throat.
“… exclusive! Chicago Blackhawks captain Blake spotted tonight at Gibson’s, dining with his former flame, model Sophie Price. Sources say the two were incredibly close, sparking rumors that the old romance is back on…”
My hand flew from the wheel and slammed into the dashboard. Pain shot up my arm, but it was nothing compared to the ice flooding my veins.
My husband.
On our anniversary.
While my grandmother was dying, he was with his “true love.”
I burst through the emergency room doors, the scent of antiseptic and fear making my stomach clench. Maria White, the nurse who cared for my grandma, was pacing near the entrance, her face streaked with tears.
“Emilia, you’re finally here!” She grabbed my arm, her hands trembling. “About an hour ago, a Miss Sophie came to visit. She and Eleanor were in the room and they argued…”
Before she could finish, the doors to the trauma unit swung open. Dr. Wright emerged, pulling off his surgical mask with a weary sigh.
He looked at me and shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Hayes. We did everything we could. The patient suffered a massive, sudden cerebral hemorrhage. We were unable to revive her.”
The sounds of the hospital faded into a dull, buzzing hum. My grandmother. The only family I had. The person who adopted me and gave me life.
Gone.
“No,” I whispered, grabbing the front of Dr. Wright’s scrubs. The fabric twisted in my fist. “That’s impossible. She was fine this morning. Why would this happen?”
“The patient’s blood pressure spiked to a catastrophic level,” Dr. Wright explained gently. “It’s usually triggered by severe emotional distress.”
Severe emotional distress.
My head snapped toward Maria.
I stumbled over to the nurse, my hands gripping her shoulders. “What did Sophie say to my grandmother? Tell me. You have to tell me everything.”
Maria flinched, her eyes wide with fear. “She… she said you’d never be a real Sterling. That Blake was going to divorce you and marry her.”
“She told Eleanor, ‘You old bitch, you’ll get to watch your precious granddaughter get thrown out on the street,’” Maria sobbed, repeating the words.
Every syllable was a hammer blow to my heart.
It was Sophie. She killed my grandmother.
My hand was shaking so hard I could barely unlock my phone. I dialed the number I knew by heart. It rang and rang, finally clicking on the sixth ring.
“Emilia?” Blake’s voice was laced with impatience. I could hear faint laughter in the background. A woman’s laugh.
I forced my own voice to be steady, devoid of the hurricane raging inside me. “Blake. My grandmother is dead.”
A pause. Then, “I’m sorry to hear that, Emilia. I’ll have my assistant handle the arrangements.”
“Sophie agitated her,” I said.
His tone shifted instantly, becoming defensive. “Emilia, don’t be ridiculous. Sophie was just being kind, paying a visit.”
A laugh escaped my lips, a broken, ugly sound. “Kind? You’re with her on our anniversary, Blake, and you’re telling me she’s ‘kind’?”
“Our marriage is a contract, Emilia. Don’t forget who you are,” he said.
That single sentence murdered the last shred of warmth I had for him. I ended the call.
My phone buzzed again. A push notification from TMZ.
The headline was a punch to the gut: “Blake and First Love Sophie Check Into Hotel, Is The Golden Couple Finally Back Together?”
The accompanying photo showed them from behind, walking into the Peninsula Hotel, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist.
I looked at the picture on my phone.
Blake. Sophie.
I swear, I will make you pay in blood.

The Unwanted Wife And Her Ruthless Revenge Chapter 2

Emilia POV:
I walked out of the hospital, got in my car, and drove straight to the nearest police precinct.
Inside, the air smelled of stale coffee and bureaucracy. An officer named Davis listened to my story with a practiced look of sympathy on his face.
I laid it all out, my voice flat and controlled. I accused Sophie of intentionally causing the emotional distress that led to my grandmother’s death.
“Ms. Hayes, I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said, clicking his pen. “But words, even cruel ones, are very difficult to prosecute as manslaughter or murder.”
“There was a witness,” I insisted. “A nurse. And there are security cameras in the hallway.”
He nodded, making a note. “We’ll look into it. Leave us your contact information, and we’ll be in touch if there’s an update.” He handed me a business card.
I walked out of the station into the blinding afternoon sun. I knew this was just a formality.
I drove to the penthouse apartment that was, in name only, our home. The housekeeper, Mrs. Finch, met me at the door, her eyes full of pity.
“Ma’am, I am so sorry…” she began.
I just shook my head and walked past her, heading straight for the study.
Blake was there, sitting behind his massive mahogany desk. He was still in yesterday’s suit, setting down his mobile phone as I entered. He looked at me with a blank expression as if he’d been waiting.
I slapped Officer Davis’s business card down on the desk. “I’ve filed a police report.”
Blake didn’t even raise an eyebrow. “The precinct commander calls me the moment a Sterling enters their doors,” he said coldly. “I’ve handled it.”
A cold dread washed over me. “Handled it? What does that mean?”
He picked up the phone on his desk, dialed a number, and put it on speaker. “Officer Davis, Blake here. Regarding my wife’s report from earlier…”
The respectful, almost fawning voice of the same officer came through the speaker. “Mr. Sterling, not to worry. We checked the hospital’s security footage. Unfortunately, the camera outside your grandmother-in-law’s room happened to have a malfunction late last night.”
My blood ran cold. A “malfunction.” How convenient.
“And as for the nurse,” Blake continued, his icy blue eyes locked on mine, “I believe she may be reconsidering the accuracy of her statement.”
“You threatened her?” I whispered, horrified.
“I merely reminded her that in this city, saying the wrong thing can be very costly,” he said, as if discussing the weather.
A wave of fury washed over me. I lunged across the desk, my hand raised to slap his arrogant face, but he caught my wrist in a grip of steel. His strength was terrifying.
“Emilia, don’t act like a lunatic,” he said, his brow furrowed in disgust.
Just then, the study door opened.
Sophie walked in, wearing one of Blake’s white button-down shirts. Her hair was damp, and a smug, triumphant smile played on her lips.
“Blake, honey, I can’t find the hair dryer…” Her voice was sweet as poison. She feigned surprise when she saw me, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, Emilia. You’re here. I’m so, so sorry to hear about your grandmother.”
She was wearing my husband’s shirt. In my home. Apologizing for a death she caused.
It was the sickest joke I’d ever heard.
I wrenched my wrist from Blake’s grasp, my gaze slicing across Sophie’s face.
“Get out of my house,” I said, my voice dangerously low.
Sophie immediately shrank behind Blake, her shoulders trembling. “Blake, she’s scaring me…”
He moved to shield her, positioning his body between us. “Emilia, that’s enough. Sophie is my guest.”
“A guest?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “A guest who spends the night and wears the host’s clothes?”
Blake’s face darkened. “I’m telling you again, this ends now. Sophie is innocent, and I will not have you harassing her.”
“Innocent?” I pointed a shaking finger at her. “She’s a murderer! And you, Blake, you’re her accomplice!”
A flash of impatience crossed his eyes. He reached into a drawer, pulled out a document, and tossed it on the desk in front of me.
It was a contract. A termination addendum to our prenuptial agreement.
“You should calm down and think about how to end this with some dignity,” he said, his voice a final, chilling verdict. “Instead of acting like a madwoman.”

The Unwanted Wife And Her Ruthless Revenge Chapter 3

Emilia POV:
I stared at the cold, legal document on the desk, then at Sophie, who was nestled against Blake’s side like a contented cat. The last embers of affection I might have held for him turned to ash.
“Blake is right, Emilia,” Sophie said, her voice soft, but her eyes gleaming with victory. “You’re making a scene. We’re all sad about your grandmother, but you can’t blame innocent people.”
I ignored her. I picked up the document and flipped through the pages. My lawyer and I had prepared for this day for over a year.
I reached into my own bag, pulled out a much thicker folder, and dropped it on the desk with a satisfying thud.
“No need for yours,” I said. “I have my own.”
Blake and Sophie both stared. My document was twice as thick as his, filled with red-penned notes and highlighted clauses.
“According to our PR agreement, the end of the three-year term, which was yesterday, was the natural expiration date of the contract,” I stated calmly. My voice was quiet, but it cut through the silence of the room.
“As the hired party, I have the right to decline renewal. This is my notice of termination, along with a detailed invoice for the compensation owed to me, as stipulated in the contract.”
Blake picked up my folder. His blue eyes scanned the pages, his brow tightening with every line he read.
Sophie leaned over his shoulder. When her eyes landed on the staggering figure in the compensation section, her face went pale.
“That much money? Emilia, you’re so greedy!” she blurted out, forgetting her sweet and innocent act entirely.
I smirked. “It’s what the contract stipulates, Ms. Price. Unlike some people, I only take what I’m owed.”
Blake put the document down, his gaze complex. “You’ve been planning this.”
“I’m always prepared to leave a place I don’t belong,” I said, meeting his eyes without flinching.
He was silent for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. “Fine. I’ll have my lawyers contact yours.”
He had agreed.
I didn’t want to spend another second in that room. I turned and walked out, not giving either of them a backward glance.
Back in my bedroom, I started packing. The room was filled with expensive things Blake had bought me, gestures to maintain the public image of a happy marriage.
I didn’t touch any of them. I packed only my own clothes and the few precious mementos my grandmother had left me.
Mrs. Finch came in, her eyes red, and quietly helped me fold a sweater. “Ma’am, are you really leaving?”
“Thank you for everything these past three years, Mrs. Finch,” I said, giving her a quick, firm hug. “But I have to.”
Dragging my single suitcase out of the opulent penthouse felt like shedding a heavy, suffocating skin. For the first time in three years, I could breathe.
I didn’t go to my old apartment. I checked into a suite at The Langham. I needed a neutral, secure space to plan my next move.
After making some initial calls for my grandmother’s funeral, I was exhausted, hollowed out. I decided to go to the hotel bar for a drink.
I changed my clothes and stepped into the elevator. Just as the doors were sliding shut, a hand shot out, stopping them.
The doors opened again to reveal Blake and Sophie. The relaxed expressions on their faces froze the instant they saw me. Sophie, clinging to Blake’s arm, cut off her giggling mid-laugh, and in its place came a fleeting flash of surprise in both their eyes.
She dressed to the nines for a night out.
The small space instantly felt airless. I pressed myself into the corner, turning my face away, pretending they weren’t there.
But I could feel Blake’s eyes on me, a heavy, scrutinizing gaze.
The elevator stopped at the VIP floor. They stepped out, heading toward a private lounge called “The Captain’s Deck,” reserved for elite athletes.
As they walked away, Sophie glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes flashing with provocation. She whispered something in Blake’s ear, and he actually smiled.
I stood frozen in the elevator, watching them disappear through the lounge doors. The fire I’d been trying to bank down roared back to life.
They thought I was gone, so they could just celebrate?
The doors started to close.
I jabbed the button for the same floor.

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