Seducing my Ex-husband back (Claire) novel Chapter 5

THE PERFECT STORM

~CLAIRE’S POV~

The satisfaction of walking out of Richard’s office lasted exactly one week.

One week of toast and avocado for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. One week of messy hair and wrinkled t-shirts because there was no one coming home to judge me.

One week of freedom that felt more like drowning.

I stared at my laptop screen, Calvin’s email about the alimony settlement glowing mockingly. The numbers were decent—enough to survive, not enough to be successful.

Certainly not enough for the kind of revenge that would make Richard regret every cruel word.

My finger hovered over Monica’s I*******m profile. ‘Don’t do it, Claire.’

But I clicked anyway.

Her latest post made my stomach clench. A close-up of her left hand, diamond ring catching the light like a star.

“My prince gave me the moon and stars,” the caption read, followed by a string of heart emojis.

The comments were worse. “Modern-day Cinderella!”

“So lucky to find true love!”

“Goals AF!”

‘More like modern-day whore who steals her friend’s husband and fucks him behind her back.’

I was halfway through typing when my coffee mug slipped. My elbow knocked the laptop, and the cursor hit send.

“Shit, shit, shit…..”

I scrambled to delete it, but the damage was done. Within seconds, responses flooded in.

“Who is this psycho?”

“Jealous much?”

But then something unexpected happened. Other comments started appearing.

“Actually, she’s not wrong. Monica Sterling is a homewrecker. She tried to steal my husband too.”

“Girl, Monica went after my boyfriend in college. She’s a serial cheater.”

“Monica Sterling from Hartwell Publishing? She’s been sleeping with married clients for years.”

My hands shook as I read story after story. Monica was not just a cheater—she was a predator. A woman who systematically targeted other women’s relationships like a sport.

I slammed the laptop shut, bile rising in my throat.

All those years of friendship, all those times she had comforted me about Richard working late, all those shoulder rubs and encouraging words—she had been hunting him from the beginning.

Eleanor’s invitation sat on my counter like a lifeline. Cream paper, elegant script. ‘A small gathering. Richard and Monica won’t be there, darling.’

Party meant rich people. Rich people meant opportunity.

I fingered the envelope, my mind racing. My alimony would not fund the kind of revenge I needed. But wealthy men with guilty consciences?

That was different.

‘Not like I’m expecting sympathy,’ I thought bitterly. ‘Rich men are all cheaters anyway.’

But maybe that was exactly what I needed.

The black dress Richard had once called “prostitute attire” fit like a second skin. In the mirror, I looked like a different woman.

My bob fell in sleek waves just above my shoulders, and for the first time in years, I left the small mole at the corner of my eyebrow uncovered.

“It’s distracting,” Richard had always said.

Tonight, I wanted to be distracting.

I grabbed my silver purse and headed for the door. It was time to hunt.

*******************************

Eleanor’s penthouse was everything I had expected….crystal chandeliers, champagne that cost more than most people rent, and men who looked at me like I was on the menu.

“Recently divorced?” The third man in an hour leaned too close, whiskey heavy on his breath. “I have a penthouse in Tribeca. Very… private.”

“How romantic,” I said flatly, stepping away.

Three glasses of champagne and two shots later, my grand plan was falling apart.

Every conversation ended the same way—men wanting to know my marital status, not listening to anything I actually said.

When a nervous-looking man approached me, I snapped.

“Let me guess…..you want to know if I’m single so you can offer me your penthouse too?”

His face went red. “I… I just wanted to say I liked your dress.”

The entire room turned to stare. I had caused a scene.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean….”

But he was already walking away, shaking his head.

I fled to the bathroom, my heels clicking against marble as I practically ran down the hallway. Inside, I locked myself in a stall and sat on the toilet seat, head in my hands.

‘This is pathetic. You’re pathetic.’

I leaned my head back, staring at the ceiling, willing myself not to cry. My makeup had taken an hour…..I was not about to ruin it now.

The door opened. Two women entered, their voices carrying over the sound of running water.

“Did you see him? He is actually here.”

My ears perked up.

“The billionaire? Sarah said he’s incredible in bed.”

“New money, but who cares? He saved three companies from bankruptcy last month.”

I pressed closer to the stall door, holding my breath.

“Complete womanizer though. Different woman every week.”

“As long as he’s generous with his spending, I don’t mind sharing.”

They giggled, and I felt something electric run through me. A wealthy man with a reputation for quick meetings and generous spending?