He Broke My Heart With One Cruel Order

In the fifth year of our marriage, for his new lover, he had my dog beaten to death in front of New York's elite.

That dog was the last thing my terminally ill father left me.

Holding Lucky's cold body in the pouring rain, I signed the divorce papers with a bloody thumbprint. Everyone thought I would die that night.

But five years later, I returned as the Pierce Group's guest of honor.

He knelt in a pool of blood, begging me to sign his clemency petition. Right in front of him, I used a pair of pliers to rip off five of his fingernails.

"This one is for Lucky."