Back from the Dead,The Billionaire's Revenge

I'd miscarried three times. Each loss dragged me further into the dark, until my mental state was barely held together by threads. I'd tried to kill myself more than once.

To help me clear my head, my husband bought me a beachfront villa overlooking the ocean.

He was busy with work, but he called me every morning and every night without fail.

That evening, after he said goodnight, he forgot to hang up.

I didn't remind him. I wanted to fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

Then a mocking voice drifted through the line.

"Seriously, Everard, you've been slipping Iris Pruitt those depressive hormones for months now and you still haven't stopped? With that kind of dosage, it'd be a miracle if she wasn't losing her mind."

"And three pregnancies, all terminated. You really are something else."

Everard Delgado sounded bored, his tone flat and indifferent.

"So what? She's the one who insisted on throwing Madge out of the house. Called her a bastard born from a homewrecker. Made Madge cry all night until her eyes were swollen shut."

"Three miscarriages. That's the price she deserved to pay."

"Besides, I didn't exactly mistreat her. I gave her a beachfront villa to 'recover.' That's more than generous."

"Once Madge cools down, I'll bring Iris back. She'll still be Mrs. Delgado."

My eyes flew open. My fists clenched so tight my nails bit into my palms, and every drop of color drained from my face.

The voice on the other end kept going.

"Everard, you're ruthless. Aren't you worried Iris will find out?"

Everard laughed, low and dismissive.

"She's a wreck. Can barely string a thought together. Even if she talked, who's going to believe the ravings of some depressed lunatic?"

"Besides, the drugs will only make her worse. She'll be too far gone to take care of herself, let alone have the energy to go after Madge."

I shot upright in bed. Moonlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows and fell across my face, washing it pale as bone.

Madge Pruitt.

The woman whose very existence kept my mother from closing her eyes in peace, even in death.

The person I hated most in this world.

Years ago, her mother had crawled into my father's bed. The affair drove my mother off the edge of a rooftop.

I'd sworn I would never coexist with Madge under the same sky. Every time we crossed paths, one of us would bleed.

For three years of marriage, Everard had stood firmly on my side every single time.

In front of me, he never once showed Madge a kind face. He'd thrown wine at her. Berated her until she ran off in tears.

Then he'd pull me into his arms, voice dripping with tenderness.

"My wife's enemy is my enemy."

"From now on, I'll protect you. Nobody gets to bully my wife. Not while I'm alive."

Those words still echoed in my ears. But now, the person who had truly been destroying me all along was the husband I loved most.

The air felt thin. I gasped, mouth open, chest heaving, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get enough oxygen.

The voice on the other end spoke again. "But those three babies were yours too. You really had the heart to get rid of every single one?"

Everard scoffed, utterly careless.

"Her? Worthy of bearing my children? Only Madge deserves to carry the Delgado heir. Whatever was in Iris's belly was nothing but a mistake."

"If she didn't still have a shred of usefulness left from the Pruitt family name, I'd have thrown her out a long time ago."

The other person sucked in a sharp breath, then pressed further.

"She's this deep into depression now. Aren't you afraid she'll actually go through with it one day?"

Everard's voice turned cold, a sneer curling through every syllable.

"As long as I'm around, she won't die that easily."

...

I couldn't listen to another word. I pressed end call.

I got out of bed and changed immediately.

White-faced, I called the housekeeper. "Arrange a helicopter. I'm going back."

Vanessa Lambert's expression shifted. Hesitation flickered across her face as she tried to talk me out of it.

"Ma'am, why the sudden urge to go back?"

"Mr. Delgado specifically arranged for you to stay here. It's quiet, good for your recovery. If you're feeling restless, you could always take a walk along the beach..."

"Don't make me say it twice."

I cut him off coldly.

Seeing that I seemed genuinely angry, the butler nodded hastily.

"Of course, Mrs. Delgado. But before that, I need to inform Mr. Delgado first."

"You have ten minutes."

Five minutes later, Everard's call came through.

His voice was the same as always, dripping with tenderness.

"Iris, what's wrong? The butler said you suddenly want to come home. Are you uncomfortable there? Or..."

A soft laugh threaded through his words.

"Do you miss your husband?"

Listening to this, I swallowed the nausea rising in my throat and forced out a stiff hum of agreement.

"Everard, I'm feeling much better already. It's damp and cold by the sea. I want to come home."

He chuckled again.

"Iris, I'm worried that coming back might upset you emotionally. What if your mood takes a turn?"

"The coast may be a bit damp, but at least it's peaceful..."

"Then come stay with me."

Silence on the other end. Two seconds.

Everard was always buried in work and constantly tending to Madge. There was no way he'd come to the coast to keep me company.

"Iris, I've got a lot on my plate right now..."

"Then send someone to bring me home."

He seemed to finish weighing his options, because he let out a resigned sigh.

"Fine, fine, fine. I'll send the helicopter for you."

Before long, the helicopter touched down on the wide stretch of beach.

The butler and the nanny poked their heads out. "This way, Mrs. Delgado."

The entire ride back, I rubbed my temples in agitation. My head was pounding.

I didn't know how much time had passed before the butler spoke up. "Mrs. Delgado, we've arrived."

"Iris!"

The moment I stepped off the helicopter, a voice called my name.

I lifted my head slowly. Standing directly ahead was a handsome man in a tailored suit, smiling warmly and waving me over.

"Iris, you must be exhausted."

He closed the distance between us in a few strides and took my hand gently, then frowned.

"Your hands are freezing. Vanessa Lambert, go get Mrs. Delgado's coat."

Once the coat was draped over my shoulders, Everard held my hand again and went on talking, one thing after another.

Just like always. That same warmth. That same doting tone.

"Iris, now that you're home, stop overthinking things."

"Focus on taking care of yourself. The baby..." He paused. "We'll have more. In the future."

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

To anyone watching, he was the picture of a devoted husband, hopelessly in love with his wife.

On the way here, I had planned to confront him. To demand answers.

To look him in the eye and ask why he'd been cruel enough to kill our three children.

To ask why he'd spun lie after lie and kept me blind to all of it.

But now, standing in front of that face, I couldn't get a single word out.

He wasn't the only one who could put on an act.

I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Everard, don't send me away again. Please?"

"I feel so much better now. I won't cause any more trouble, and I won't..."

"I won't try to kill myself again."

His body went rigid for a split second, then he recovered and laughed softly, patting my back.

"Okay, okay. If you're really doing better, then you can stay wherever you want."

That night, before bed, Everard brought me a glass of juice, same as always.

"Fresh-squeezed. Made it with my own two hands."

I looked up slowly, staring at the glass.

Ever since my miscarriage, under the guise of making sure I got enough vitamins, Everard had personally brought me a glass of juice every single night.

I used to believe it was because he loved me that much.

Something as small as squeezing juice could easily have been left to the housekeeper, but he never let anyone else do it. He insisted on making it himself.

But it was that conversation I'd overheard by accident that finally made everything clear.

The juice. Everard had been lacing it with depressive hormones.

That was why I'd developed depression. Why I'd slashed my wrists over and over, why I'd stood on the terrace more times than I could count, imagining I was a butterfly with wings, ready to fly off the edge.

If the housekeeper hadn't pulled me back in time, I'd already be six feet under with a smile frozen on my face.

"Iris, what are you thinking about? Why aren't you drinking?"

Everard frowned when he noticed my silence, his face the picture of concern.

"I don't want to drink it."

I shook my head, but he just sighed, sat down beside me, and coaxed me in that low, gentle voice of his.

"Come on, be good. The doctor said your depressive episodes are caused by a vitamin deficiency, remember? This juice will help."

I tilted my head up to look at him.

"Do I have to?"

Everard smiled down at me, and I knew he wasn't giving me a choice.

I lowered my head, let out a small laugh, then took the glass and drained it in one go.

He rubbed the top of my head, satisfied. "Get some rest. I'm going to finish up some work in the study, and I'll come to bed soon."

I watched his retreating figure.

Then I ran my fingers over the scars lining my wrist. One after another after another. Each one a souvenir of a suicide attempt.

My gaze went cold.

Everard. Madge.

Every single wound on my body is a gift from the two of you. And I will repay it all. With interest.

I drifted into a hazy sleep, only to be woken in the middle of the night by rustling sounds.

Madge had changed into something skimpy and revealing. She pushed open the master bedroom door, there to seduce Everard.

He panicked instantly, glancing back at me asleep in bed before scrambling up to shove her out into the hallway.

His voice came next, deliberately kept low.

"Madge, why are you here now?"

"Iris is back. What if she sees us? How would we explain this?"

Madge shot a contemptuous look in my direction.

"So what if she sees?"

"Everard, you promised me tonight. You said tonight you were mine."

"Wasn't she supposed to stay at the beach house for another two months? What the hell is she doing back here, ruining our plans..."

Everard's expression darkened. He reached out and clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Keep your voice down. She's emotionally unstable right now. If she makes a scene, none of us walk away clean."

Madge pried his hand away, her eyes burning with resentment.

"She's just being dramatic."

"It's a little bit of depressive hormones. She throws herself off ledges and slits her wrists every other day, and she still hasn't managed to die."

"If she wasn't squatting in the seat of Mrs. Delgado, would we even need to sneak around like this?"

Inside the room, I opened my eyes slowly. My fingers twisted into the sheets.

Outside the door, Madge nestled into Everard's arms, her voice dripping with honeyed petulance.

"Everard, I don't care. I want you with me right now. Knowing she's lying in there makes me sick."

He was quiet for a moment. Then his tone softened, caving.

"Fine. But you have to promise to keep it down. Tonight, I'm all yours..."

The two of them fell onto the couch in a tangle of lips and limbs.

It didn't take long.

Madge's moans spilled out, rising and falling in shameless rhythm.

Everard kept craning his neck toward the bedroom door, freeing one hand to cover her mouth.

"You little temptress. You're going to be the death of me."

"Not a sound."

Madge's eyes were glazed, her face smug.

"What are you so worried about? That glass of juice you handed Iris yourself? I slipped sleeping pills into it."

Everard exhaled in relief. He gripped the back of her head and kissed her.

"Clever girl."

The two of them wrapped around each other, lost in their tender little affair.

The next morning, Everard came back to the bedroom. When he saw I was already awake, he immediately put on a gentle smile and reached out to stroke my hair.

"Iris, did you sleep well? I had the housekeeper make your favorite breakfast."

I tilted my head away, my expression calm and still.

"Everard, let's get a divorce."

The smile on his face froze instantly. A flicker of panic darted through his eyes.

"Iris, what are you talking about? Are you feeling unwell again?"

I pulled out my phone without a trace of emotion on my face.

I held the screen up for him to see.

"Madge sent these last night."

Then I pressed play on the voice messages.

Madge's taunting, triumphant voice filled the room.

"Iris, aren't you supposed to be depressed? How come you haven't offed yourself yet?"

"So what if you came home? Last night, your husband and I had ourselves a nice, passionate little session right in front of you."

"You probably thought he actually hated me when he threw that wine on me at your birthday party, didn't you?"

"What you don't know is that he spent the whole night in my bed afterward, coaxing me back into a good mood."

"He dropped tens of thousands on handbags and necklaces for me before I even started to calm down."

"He even got on his knees and wrote me an apology letter."

"Said he only did it to earn your trust. That he had no choice. That it nearly broke his heart to treat me that way."

With every sentence, another shade of color drained from Everard's face.

He lunged at me, his expression dark as a storm, trying to snatch the phone from my hand. When he couldn't get it, he dropped to his knees in front of me.

"It's all lies."

"It's Madge. It has to be Madge! She can't stand seeing us happy, so she's making things up to turn you against me."

"Iris, you know how much I've loved you all these years."

"I know you two have never gotten along. When have I ever been anything but cold to her? Don't let her get inside your head..."

Watching that earnest, heartfelt performance, I let out a scoff.

"Everard, I never realized what a talented actor you were."

If I hadn't forced myself to throw up that glass of juice in the bathroom last night, I might never have seen what Everard looked like on that couch with another woman, completely shameless and unrestrained.

"You don't think that's enough evidence? Fine."

I opened my photo gallery and showed him the whole sordid show I'd captured the night before.

"You went through three condoms. The whole thing lasted two hours. So tell me, Everard, what do you have to say for yourself?"

With the evidence staring him right in the face, Everard finally dropped the act.

He was silent for a long time. Then his voice turned cold and threatening.

"Iris, are you sure you really want a divorce? Every cent of Delgado money you've spent in these three years of marriage, you'll pay back."

"Otherwise, you're not walking out that door."

I was shaking with rage.

"Everard, have you lost every shred of decency?"

"This company was founded with my mother's money while she was still alive. Thirty million dollars in startup capital, every last cent from the Pruitt family!"

"For three years, I gave up my career to manage this household for you, to handle your clients, to clean up your PR disasters. How many of your company's messes did I fix?"

"And my three children... You're going to sit here and nickel-and-dime me over living expenses? How can those words even come out of your mouth?"

Everard's expression darkened, and a cruel smirk twisted his lips.

"That's all in the past. The law only cares about evidence. I'm the legal representative of the company. The shares are in my name. You don't own a single one."

"If you behave yourself, I can let you keep the title of Mrs. Delgado."

"But if you insist on a divorce, I have ways to make sure the world sees you as nothing more than a freeloader who lived in my house like an unpaid maid."

"Free maid?"

I laughed until tears spilled from my eyes, my chest aching so badly I could barely breathe.

So that was how it was. When he married me, he called me his little princess, sweet-talked me until my head was spinning.

Now that I'd outlived my usefulness, I was nothing but a free maid.

Even the three unborn children I'd carried had become innocent casualties.

Just then, Madge strolled over wearing my nightgown, the red marks on her neck obscenely vivid.

"Come on, sis, stop making a scene."

"Everard's being perfectly reasonable. You've been living here rent-free all this time. Now that you want to leave, paying back what you owe is only fair, isn't it?"

She rubbed her flat stomach with deliberate slowness. "Oh, right. You know the reason your three babies never made it? Bad luck. You can't pin that on Everard."

I stared at her, unblinking.

This was the woman who drove my mother to her death and stole her ashes. Who took my husband, seized the Pruitt family fortune, and now twisted the knife deeper into my heart.

Everard patted Madge's hand, his eyes dripping with affection.

"That's enough, babe. Otherwise a certain rabid dog might start biting again."

When he turned to me, the warmth vanished. Ice replaced it.

"Iris, I'm giving you one last chance."

"Stay. Keep taking care of me and Madge. Once the baby's born, I'll write off your debt and let you keep a roof over your head."

"Otherwise, I'll see you in court."

I looked at the two of them standing there, and something inside me went still.

The tears stopped completely. All that remained in my eyes was a frozen, bottomless cold.

I should have stopped holding out hope for this man long ago. I should have stopped being weak.

I lifted my gaze to Everard, my voice level.

"Everard, since we're done pretending, let me be equally clear."

"You betrayed me first. You hurt me after. I will never forgive you."

"Everything you and Madge stole from me, I'm taking back. All of it."

Everard laughed like he'd just heard the funniest joke of his life.

"Iris, have you lost your mind? With what? You don't have a single thing to your name."

Madge joined in, her voice dripping acid.

"Sis, stop clinging to your pride when you can barely survive. You're a stray dog with nowhere to go. What can you possibly do besides beg us?"

I ignored their mockery.

I didn't say another word.

They took everything I said for empty bluster. They never believed a syllable.

But I knew. Revenge started now.

Everard waved his hand with casual indifference and signaled the housekeeper to take me away.

"The basement's nice and quiet. Let my wife spend some time down there reflecting on her choices."

They locked me up. As I was being dragged away, Madge seized my chin, her nails digging in.

"Sis, looks like you've had it too easy for too long. You have no idea how the real world works."

"A little suffering will teach you to appreciate what you had."

"As for the good life of Mrs. Delgado, I'll be enjoying that on your behalf."

I was locked in the basement for three days. No water. No food. Then the door swung open, and Everard and Madge stood side by side in the doorway.

"Iris, I hear you've come to your senses and want to talk."

Everard crouched down slowly, studying my hollow, gaunt face. Something flickered in his eyes for a fraction of a second. A trace of pity, maybe.

But I knew it was nothing more than an illusion.

"If you'd just behaved from the start, none of this would have happened."

"If you hadn't bullied Madge, if you hadn't called her the mistress's daughter, I wouldn't have had to punish you like this just to stand up for her."

"Now that you've seen reason, go ahead and give Madge a proper apology."

I kept my head down, my gaze locked on the tips of Madge's shoes, my lips pressed into a hard, thin line.

Madge's lips curled into a vicious smile.

"Dear sister, I hear you've been crying about those three unborn babies every single day for the past three days."

"Don't you want to know where they're buried?"

My hand clenched.

These past few days had probably been Madge's way of getting back at me. She'd had the housekeepers stand outside my door, gossiping loudly about my three children's tiny bodies. About where they'd been buried.

None of them had made it into this world alive, but laying the dead to rest in hallowed ground was a tradition as old as time. I'd asked Everard countless times where their graves were. He always used my depression as an excuse, claiming he was afraid the emotional toll would be too much for me, and refused to say a word.

Madge crouched down and gripped my chin, her tone flippant and cruel.

"You want to know? Fine."

"Get on your knees and wash my feet. Do a good enough job, and I'll tell you."

My whole body trembled. My eyes burned red.

Her taunting, poisonous voice kept going.

"Those three half-formed little runts of yours? I tossed them somewhere random. If you don't kneel, you'll never find their graves for the rest of your life."

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the light in them had gone hollow. I nodded.

"I'll do it. Just tell me where my children are buried."

Madge grinned in triumph and planted her foot on the back of my hand.

"There's a good girl."

I swallowed the pain, slowly knelt before her, and bent down to remove her shoes.

Everard stood to the side, watching with cold indifference. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face.

Madge savored every second of my servitude, drawling lazily.

"Those three kids of yours are buried in the farthest corner of that abandoned cemetery on the outskirts of town. Not even a headstone to mark them."

"If it weren't for my generosity, you'd never have found out."

My fists tightened. "I know I was wrong. From now on, I'll serve you both obediently. Just please stop using the children against me."

Seeing me submit, Everard relented.

"Since you've admitted your mistake, you'll stay in this house as the help. Keep your mouth shut and don't even think about fighting back."

I kept my head bowed, hiding the flash of cold fury in my eyes.

Everard. Madge.

This debt? I'll collect every last cent. With interest.

Over the next few days, I became the picture of silent obedience. Whatever they told me to do, I did without resistance. Without complaint. I even drank the hormone-laced juice on my own, unprompted.

Madge reveled in the thrill of tormenting me.

Only Everard frowned now and then, a faint unease surfacing in the back of his mind.

"Madge, don't you think Iris has been a little too well-behaved lately?"

Madge barely glanced up from admiring her fresh manicure. "So what?"

"She's been beaten into submission. What else can she do besides obey? She can't even slit her wrists without the housekeeper stopping her. Her children are gone. She's got nothing left but to live off our mercy for the rest of her miserable life."

Everard considered this for a moment, then let the warmth of the woman beside him dissolve his doubts. He exhaled.

"You're right. She couldn't make waves even if she tried."

For the entire week that followed, Everard pretended to be away on business while he and Madge worked their way through every themed hotel in the city.

They were having the time of their lives.

Then, on the seventh night, Everard's phone rang. And rang. And rang.

He answered with an irritated snap. "What is it?"

On the other end, the housekeeper's voice came through choked with sobs, frantic and panicked.

"Ma'am said she was feeling low and went to the beach for some air. She threw herself into the ocean!"