Penniless Divorce: The Secret Hacker Queen

Nora POV:

A violent, rhythmic pounding on the heavy bedroom door jolted me awake at dawn.

I sat up instantly, my senses razor-sharp, and swung my legs out of bed.

I pulled the door open.

Marcus stood on the threshold, dressed in a charcoal bespoke suit, his face carved from cold stone.

Behind him stood Diego and two private security guards holding black garment bags.

"Ten minutes, Nora," Marcus said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "Grab your clothes and get out."

I leaned slightly against the doorframe, crossing my arms.

"Last night you locked me in. Now you're counting seconds? Make up your mind, Marcus."

"The reporters downstairs have been rerouted to the practice facility," Diego interjected, stepping up beside him. "Your continued presence here offers zero utility to Marcus's public image."

Marcus took half a step forward, his towering frame casting a shadow that blocked the morning light.

"Not only that," Marcus said, his blue eyes drilling into mine. "Every black card, luxury gym pass, country club account, and the Porsche under your name are frozen as of six o'clock this morning."

He paused, clearly waiting for the breakdown, the panic, the desperate pleading Nora had offered in the past.

I looked into his eyes, showing him nothing but the cool detachment of an auditor assessing a bad debt.

Before he could speak again, the sound of heels echoed down the hallway.

Daphne strode into view, wearing a fresh designer dress, holding an empty, vintage velvet jewelry box between her manicured fingers.

"Dad had your mother's private safe cleared out at the Manor at dawn, Nora," Daphne purred, her lips curling into a toxic smirk.

"That vintage platinum diamond necklace? It's already sitting on the parlor table right now, waiting for me. A piece like that belongs on a real society girl, not Marcus's discarded pet."

Marcus barely glanced at the velvet box, offering neither approval nor objection.

In his eyes, anything Nora lost was simply what she deserved.

I looked at Daphne's smug face, and the corners of my mouth curled into a cold, sharp smile.

"Daphne, have you forgotten that you are nothing more than an illegitimate child who crawled into this family?"

My voice was quiet, but every word hit the room like a slap.

Daphne's face drained of color instantly.

Her illegitimate status was the deepest insecurity of her social life.

"Shut your mouth!" she hissed, her voice rising in pitch.

"Your mother, Mabel, was just a cheap mistress who climbed into Henry Cole's bed while my mother was dying in the hospital," I said, stepping out of the bedroom until I was inches from her.

Marcus's brow furrowed, his eyes flickering toward Daphne with a sudden flash of disgust.

He knew nothing of the Cole family's dirty laundry.

Humiliated and enraged, Daphne raised her hand to strike my face.

I caught her wrist in mid-air, digging my thumb hard into her wrist until the bone creaked.

Daphne let out a choked gasp of pain as her grip gave way, the empty velvet box slipping from her fingers and hitting the carpet.

I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

"Touch my mother's jewelry, Daphne, and I won't just take it back. I will break your fingers one by one."

I turned back to Marcus, whose jaw remained tight as he watched the exchange.

"Ten minutes? I don't need ten minutes. I am leaving now."

I walked back into the room, grabbed a small canvas duffel bag, and packed only Nora's personal identification, birth certificate, and family photos.

The rows of designer bags and fur coats Marcus had purchased remained untouched in the closet.

When I zipped the bag and walked out, Marcus's eyes drifted to the tiny duffel in my hand.

A flicker of genuine confusion crossed his features.

He was used to women clinging to his wealth, yet I was walking out with almost nothing.

I walked past him without stopping, heading straight for the private elevator.

As the polished metal doors slid closed, I caught a final glimpse of Marcus's rigid posture and Daphne's trembling rage.

I stepped out of the lobby doors into the crisp morning air of Manhattan.

The wind whipped across my face, clearing away the lingering suffocating scent of the penthouse.

I pulled Nora's personal phone from my pocket and dialed the only secure number stored in her memory.

The line rang three times before a deep, measured voice answered.

"Nora? Have you finally decided to fight back?"

"Owen," I said, watching a dozen angry figures across the street suddenly spot me. "Bring my mother's sealed will. Come get me right now."