I never told my husband I owned a five-billion-dollar empire. To him, I was still “the useless housewife.” At his promotion party, he forced me to wear a maid’s uniform and serve drinks, while his mistress sat in the place of honor, wearing my jewelry. I kept my head down and served quietly—until his boss saw me and stopped cold.

Mark arrived in a limousine. He stepped out, looking dashing in the blue tie Jessica had bought him. On his arm was Jessica herself—a striking woman in a red dress that was illegal in three states. She worked in HR, a department Elena had specifically instructed to hire more “creative thinkers.” Apparently, Jessica’s creativity lay elsewhere.

Elena arrived ten minutes later. In an Uber.

Mark had told her to meet him there. “It’s better if we arrive separately,” he had said. “I have to network early.”

Elena walked into the ballroom. She was wearing a simple black dress. Elegant, but understated. She stood near a pillar, watching her husband work the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mark’s voice boomed over the crowd as he held up a champagne flute. He was holding court near the ice sculpture. “They say behind every great man is a great woman. And I have to agree.”

He pulled Jessica closer. The crowd, assuming she was his wife, applauded politely.

“Jessica here has been my rock,” Mark lied effortlessly. “Her intelligence, her class… that’s what drives me.”

A junior executive leaned over to Mark. “Is that your wife, Mark?”

Mark laughed, a cruel, braying sound. “No, no. This is Jessica, my… right hand. My wife is around here somewhere.” He scanned the room, his eyes sliding over Elena in the shadows. “Probably near the buffet. She loves free food.”

Jessica giggled, whispering something in Mark’s ear.

Elena watched them. Her heart was a block of ice. But then, she saw it.

Around Jessica’s neck glittered a necklace. It was a blue diamond pendant, set in white gold. The design was unmistakable. It was the Star of the North, a custom piece commissioned by Elena’s grandfather for her grandmother. It had been missing from Elena’s jewelry box for two weeks. Mark had told her he took it to get the clasp repaired.

He hadn’t just cheated on her. He had stolen her legacy to adorn his mistress.

The last shred of pity Elena held for Mark evaporated.

She pulled out her phone. It was 8:00 PM.

She opened an encrypted app and typed a single message to the CEO of the holding company, Arthur Sterling.

Message: Execute Plan Omega. The stage is yours.

The lights in the ballroom flickered. The smooth jazz music cut out, replaced by a low, ominous hum of feedback.

“What’s going on?” Mark muttered, looking around. “Did we lose power?”

A voice boomed from the overhead speakers, god-like in its volume.