The Ex-Wife's Ultimate Revenge

The last thing my husband of twenty years, Jaxson Blake, gave me was a suicide note.

It wasn't for me. It was for Brinley Buchanan, his foster sister, the woman who had haunted our marriage from the very beginning.

He put a bullet through his head, and with his last breath, he gave our entire tech empire-my life's work-to her and her family.

It was always her. She was the reason our child died, freezing to death in a broken-down car while Jaxson rushed to her side because she'd manufactured another crisis.

My whole life had been a war against her, a war I had already lost.

I closed my eyes, exhausted, and when I opened them again, I was a teenager. I was back in the group home, on the exact day the wealthy Blake family came to choose a child to foster.

Across the room, a boy with familiar, tormented eyes was staring right at me. Jaxson.

He looked just as shocked as I felt.

"Eva," he mouthed, his face pale. "I'm so sorry. I'll save you this time. I promise."

A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. The last time he promised to save me, our son ended up in a tiny coffin.

Chapter 1

The last thing my husband, Jaxson Blake, gave me was a suicide note.

It wasn't addressed to me. It was for Brinley Buchanan, his foster sister, the woman who had haunted our marriage for twenty miserable years.

"Brinley," his elegant script read, "I'm sorry. I couldn't protect you. I'm leaving everything to you and your family. Forgive me."

I stood in the cold, sterile office, the smell of gunpowder still hanging in the air. He had put a bullet through his head, and his final thoughts were of another woman. Everything, our tech empire that I had been the architect of, my life's work, was now hers.

It was always her. Every crisis revolved around Brinley's tears, Brinley's needs, Brinley's manufactured dramas. She was the reason our child died, left freezing in a broken-down car on a remote road because Jaxson had to rush to Brinley's side after she claimed she was being threatened.

My whole life had been a war against her, a war I had just lost.

I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. The grief was a physical weight, crushing the air from my lungs. Then, a sharp pain in my chest, a blinding light, and the world dissolved.

I smelled antiseptic and cheap soup. I opened my eyes. I was on a lumpy mattress in a crowded room. The walls were a depressing shade of beige, peeling in the corners. My heart hammered against my ribs. I knew this place. This was the St. Jude's Group Home. My hands were small, my body was wiry and unfamiliar. I was a teenager again.

A voice cut through the haze. "Eva, get up! The Blakes are here!"

I sat bolt upright. Today. It was the exact day the wealthy Blake family came to choose a child to foster. The day my life intertwined with Jaxson's.

A boy across the room, with familiar dark hair and tormented eyes, was staring right at me. Jaxson. He looked just as shocked as I felt.

"Eva," he mouthed, his face pale. "I'm so sorry. I'll save you this time. I promise."

Save me? A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. The last time he promised to save me, our son ended up in a tiny coffin.

In my first life, I'd been desperate to escape this place. I was ambitious and smart, and I saw the Blakes as my only ticket out. I had researched them for weeks, learning about their interests, their personalities, what they looked for in a child. I'd prepared a perfect little speech. I wore my cleanest, though still shabby, dress. I was determined to be their perfect choice.

And I would have been.

But then Jaxson had shown up, dragging a sniffling, pathetic-looking girl behind him. Brinley Buchanan.

"She needs a home more than anyone," he had declared to his parents, his voice full of that misguided, noble pity he always had for her. "The other kids bully her."

Brinley had sobbed on cue, hiding behind him and whispering lies about me. "Eva scares me. She says I don't deserve to be happy."

Jaxson, who had sworn to be my protector in that life, had believed her instantly. He'd looked at me with such disappointment. "Eva, how could you be so cruel?"

That single sentence had sealed my fate. I spent five more miserable years in the system while Brinley was welcomed into the Blake mansion, draped in silk and sympathy.

But this time, I knew better. I wasn't the ambitious girl trying to win their affection. I was a 40-year-old woman in a teenager's body, and my only ambition was to be free of them all.

Mrs. Blake, a kind-faced woman with soft eyes, was already smiling at me. "Hello, dear. You must be Eva. Your file says you're at the top of your class."

"She's a wonderful girl," the home's manager said, her voice syrupy sweet.

Jaxson stood beside his mother, his eyes pleading with me. "Mom, Dad, I think we should choose Eva."

I saw the hope in his eyes, the desperate need to atone. He wanted to fix the past.

Too bad for him, I wanted to erase it.

Just as Mr. Blake opened his mouth to agree, a loud cry echoed from the hallway.

A moment later, Brinley hobbled in, leaning heavily on another girl. Her ankle was wrapped in a dirty bandage, and fresh tears streamed down her face. She looked so fragile, so broken.

"Brinley, what happened?" Mrs. Blake rushed to her side, full of concern.

"I... I fell," Brinley stammered, her eyes darting towards a group of bigger boys in the corner. "They pushed me. They said... they said a charity case like me doesn't deserve new shoes."

It was a masterful performance. I had to give her that. In my first life, I had used my wits to survive. Brinley used her tears. And her tears were always more effective.

Jaxson's face hardened with that familiar, protective anger. But this time, I could see the conflict in his eyes. A flicker of doubt. He knew Brinley was capable of this. But the sight of her, so seemingly helpless, still short-circuited his brain.

He looked from her to me, his guilt warring with his pity.

Before he could make the wrong choice again, I stepped forward.

"Mrs. Blake," I said, my voice quiet but clear. "She's right. The boys here are very rough. Brinley is so gentle. She gets hurt a lot."

I turned to Jaxson, my expression full of faux empathy. "Jaxson, you should protect her. She really needs a family like yours."

Mrs. Blake's heart melted. "Oh, you poor dear," she said, stroking Brinley's hair.

Jaxson looked at me, utterly bewildered. He couldn't understand why I was handing his family over to my nemesis.

He opened his mouth, a confused protest forming on his lips.

But I spoke at the same time, my voice perfectly synchronized with his.

"Take Brinley."

"Take Brinley," he said, his own words echoing mine, driven by a lifetime of ingrained instinct.

The decision was made.