Icy Queen Of London

I turned on my heel and exited the room with whatever dignity as i could muster. But With every step down the stairs, I felt my delicately constructed world crumble around me. My fingers grazed the banister, the weight of my wedding ring now too much to bear.

I moved through the darkened rooms of our – my – home, my head replaying every lie, every betrayal. How long had this been going on? How many business trips had been covers for their trysts? How many times had Sarah consoled me about James's distance, all while warming his bed behind my back?

My hand reached to the mantel for the wedding photo. The smile in that picture was mockery now. Gently, I laid it down: cold glass against the heat of my anger.

I fell onto the plush sofa in the quiet house, my body numb. For the first time in years, I'd allowed myself to feel it-to truly feel it. The loss. The rage. The betrayal. One lonely tear slipped down my cheek, scalding as it fell.

I wiped it away, refusing to break any further. This moment of weakness would be my last.

In silent vow, while the storm raged outside, matching the tempest in my heart, I wouldn't be the victim anymore. James and Sarah had no idea what they'd just unleashed.

I stood, making my way to the bar. I poured amber liquid into a crystal tumbler, giving myself a generous measure of scotch. The burn as it slid down my throat was a welcome distraction from the ache in my chest.

My phone buzzed insistently. A glance showed missed calls and messages from James. Without thought, I silenced it.

Instead, I pulled up my contacts and dialed a number I rarely used. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered.

"Olivia? It's the middle of the night. What's wrong?"

"Marcus," I said, my voice steady despite my churning gut. "I need you to draw up divorce papers. Immediately."

"Olivia, are you sure? This is—"

"I have never been surer about anything," I cut him off, "I want everything ready for morning. And Marcus? The prenup? Bulletproof. I want him to feel it in his bank account for years to come."

"Consider it done," Marcus said. "I'll have a draft for you first thing."

I hung up, a grim satisfaction washing over me. My eyes fell upon a framed article dubbing me the "Ice Queen of the London Stock Exchange." The nickname once bothered me, but now... now I'd own it.

I tensed at footsteps. James stood at the doorway hastily dressed, his face a mask of guilt and fear.

"Liv, please," he began, stepping towards me. "We really have to talk about this. It was a mistake, I swear. It meant nothing."

I laughed; the sound was hollow, bitter. "A mistake? That's what you call fucking my best friend in our bed?" I reached for the scotch. "Tell me, James, how long has this 'mistake' been going on?"

He flinched at my words, his eyes darting away. "It was only a few times. I was weak, I—"

"Stop," I cut him off, my voice cold as ice. "I don't want your pathetic excuses. The only thing I want to hear is how quickly you can pack your things and leave my house."

"Your house? Olivia, be reasonable. We can work through this. We've built a life together—"

"No," I cut in. "You destroyed that life the second you decided to betray me. And let me make one thing clear—I'm the one who's been building this life. You've only been along for the ride."

I started toward him, my steps measured. He backed away as though cowed by my anger. "The papers will be ready in the morning. Sign them, and maybe — just maybe — I won't destroy you completely." I smiled without warmth. "The Ice Queen of London doesn't let anyone cross her without consequences."

James paled. "Olivia, please. I love you. We can fix this."

For a moment, I remembered the man I had fallen in love with. The shy smiles, late-night conversations, shared dreams. That man was dead, replaced by this beggarly, cheating stranger.

"No, James," I whispered, the last of my warmth gone. "We cannot. Now leave. You have until morning to gather your things."

As he turned to leave, I called after him, "Oh, and James? Tell Sarah she's fired. I expect her desk cleaned out by noon tomorrow."

Perhaps I had known all along that James was different, that something wild lay beneath his façade. The nights of full moons when he disappeared, claiming late work. The odd scratches that would surface on the bedroom floor. Signs I'd been too blind to see, or hadn't wanted to.

That final thud of the front door made me realize I was truly alone. I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and watched the storm batter the city. London lay spread out, a glittering expanse of lights and shadows—a city of opportunity, of reinvention.

Lightning split the sky, and my reflection showed a stranger. That girl who believed in happily ever afters was gone. A woman forged in betrayal, tempered in pain, stood in her place.

I raised my glass in silent toast. Let them believe I am weak. Let them believe they've broken me.

I am Olivia Blackwood, and from these ashes, I rise stronger than ever.

The storm raged on, but as I looked out over the city that would be mine anew, a strange calm settled over me.

It was just the beginning.