Chapter 1

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband’s office.

Walking past the secretary's suite, I stopped dead. A king-size bed had been set up inside.

A young woman in a designer dress was sprawled across it, a handheld game console in her hands, surrounded by imported snacks of every variety.

"Kevin, the lunch you ordered yesterday was pre-packaged meals. Marcus and I both felt sick after eating it. Today, make sure it's from The Palace Hotel."

Kevin -- my husband's personal assistant -- bowed and scraped before her, his face a mask of obsequious flattery.

"Mrs. Thorne, please don't worry. Mr. Thorne made it very clear -- everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. He knows you love the chef at The Palace Hotel, so he set up a standing VIP account for you. Anything you want, anytime."

She was Mrs. Thorne? Then what exactly was I?

My brow furrowed. I glanced down at the wedding ring I'd worn for years.

The girl beamed, radiant.

"For the baby's arrival, my husband is throwing a lavish yacht party. Every important person in New York is getting an invitation. I want the whole world to know that I'm the love of his life, and that our son will be blessed by the most powerful people before he's even born. The champagne and flowers must be the finest available -- no budget limit. Our child is going to have the best of everything from day one."

I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father.

"Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago -- you can have the lawyers send it over now."

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband's office. But as I passed his secretary's suite, I saw a young woman lying on a king-size bed.

My husband's personal assistant was very respectful to her: "Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne ordered that everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. Anything you want, anytime."

I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father.

"Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago—you can have the lawyers send it over now."

I'd barely hung up when the girl climbed off the bed.

"My husband's spending the afternoon with me, reading stories to our baby. Unless it's urgent, don't bother us. Don't interrupt our little family's quality time."

She tossed the instructions at Kevin, then skipped off toward the CEO's office next door.

As she passed me, I noticed the diamond bracelet on her wrist.

It was the same one I'd had my eye on at an auction two weeks ago -- the one a mystery buyer had outbid everyone for, driving the price sky-high.

So that was it.

The mystery buyer who'd spent a fortune just to make his girlfriend smile was my husband, Marcus Thorne.

My gaze drifted toward the CEO's office.

The girl was straddling Marcus's lap, her arms looped around his neck. Marcus -- the man whose germophobia was legendary -- was smiling as he opened his mouth and bit the french fry dangling from her lips.

Then they kissed, deep and lingering, as though they couldn't bear to pull apart.

I felt like I'd been struck by lightning.

"Baby, when are you going to tell that old hag the truth? Our baby can't wait forever. You're the CEO now -- you don't need to tiptoe around her anymore."

"I know she stuck by you through the hard times, but I can do that too."

Her voice was coy, breathy, dripping with seduction.

Marcus pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"Alright. Tonight, I'll lay it all out for her. I'll bring you in with all the fanfare you deserve. Everything I own will be yours."

His words wrapped around me like a wave of ice.

I stared in disbelief at the man who, barely thirty minutes ago, had told me on the phone that he loved me. That he missed me.

He was planning to clean me out.

Too bad for him.

He seemed to have forgotten that with a single word from me, I could take back everything he had.

I walked straight into the office.

The moment Marcus saw me, panic flashed across his face.

Instinctively, he shoved the girl off his lap.

She wasn't braced for it and crashed to the floor.

Marcus looked horrified -- but not for me.

He rushed to help her up.

She buried herself in his arms, biting her lip, tears spilling down her cheeks in a pitiful cascade.

Marcus couldn't hide his tenderness.

His large hand gently wiped her tears away.

It was a long moment before he settled her, calmer now, onto the sofa.

His gaze finally landed on me.

The disgust and contempt in his eyes were unmistakable.

"Vivienne, look at yourself. You've let yourself go -- it's honestly repulsive."

The girl nestled against him, her eyes raking over me from head to toe. She snorted with laughter. "Marcus, could a pig in a diet commercial even be this bad?"

Marcus glanced at me.

"She's always been blunt -- don't take it personally. She just lost her footing and fell into me. Don't read too much into it."

My expression remained perfectly composed.

I sat across from them, crossed my legs with unhurried elegance.

"The reason I gained weight was to give you the child you wanted so badly. I was pumped full of hormones, swallowed more pills than I can count."

Marcus's eyes went evasive; he couldn't meet my gaze.

The girl's smile only grew brighter.

"Oh, sweetie, at your age, if you still can't get pregnant, it's probably because you were too wild in your younger days. All those consequences catching up to you."

I poured myself a cup of tea, utterly unruffled. "Marcus, are you blind? How could you fall for someone like that? I happen to know one of the top ophthalmologists in the world."

Marcus caught the barb. His face cycled between ashen and livid.

"Her name is Amber Holloway. She's a secretary I hired six months ago. She's fresh out of school, hasn't been around many people -- she speaks her mind a little too freely. Don't hold it against her."

Amber tugged shyly at Marcus's sleeve. "It's your fault, you know. You've spoiled me rotten."

Her sudden kiss caught Marcus off guard.

"Wait outside," he told her.

Amber pouted but stood up.

She walked over and stopped right in front of me.

A dismissive curl of her lip. "Sweetie, you're way past your prime. Marcus told me the weekly bedroom duties are such a chore he can barely stand it."

I took a sip of my tea, then rose to my feet.

I grabbed a fistful of Amber's hair and yanked hard.

Her carefully made-up face slammed into the desk.

"He might put up with you, but I sure as hell won't."

Chapter 2

By the time I'd slapped Amber twice across the face, Marcus finally snapped out of it.

He seized my wrist. The pain told me he was using every ounce of his strength.

To say it didn't hurt would be a lie.

I'd defied my parents to marry this man. Went on a hunger strike until they relented.

To prove to them that I'd married well, I'd lived with him in a cramped basement apartment -- sweltering in summer, freezing in winter.

In those early days of scraping and hustling, we had no money. For half a month straight, we survived on bread and water.

I never complained. I stood by him through every miserable day.

I begged my father to let him manage a subsidiary of Ashford Corporation.

And he delivered. Within a year, he'd established himself at the company.

During that same year, I stayed home trying to conceive. The medications, the injections -- I'd lost count of them all.

"Let go of my sweetheart. Or I'll post your private photos online."

That word -- sweetheart -- so tender, so intimate -- cut through me like a blade.

My voice trembled. "You'd expose my privacy over a mistress?"

Marcus's eyes shifted, unable to hold mine.

"Amber isn't a mistress."

I scoffed. "If she's not a mistress, then what? The love of your life?"

A deliberate whimper from Amber, and the words tumbled out of Marcus before he could stop them: "Yes. She's the one I love most."

Tears burned behind my eyes.

He'd said those exact words to me once.

After countless nights tangled together, he'd whisper in my ear that I was the only one he'd ever love.

"Aren't you afraid of karma? Of dying a miserable death?"

I asked quietly.

Marcus staggered.

He'd once sworn that if he ever betrayed our marriage, he deserved exactly that.

Amber let out a disdainful huff.

"What man doesn't say sweet nothings after sex? Marcus already promised that he'd put everything in my name -- his way of making me and the baby feel safe. Oh, and he also said you're a dead fish in bed. Totally boring."

She clapped a hand over her mouth in mock surprise.

Her eyes went wide and innocent as she looked up at Marcus.

"Oops, Marcus, I'm sorry -- I just say whatever comes to mind. You're not mad, are you?"

Marcus rested his hand on her head and gave it an affectionate rub.

"You only told the truth. How could I be mad at you?"

I let go.

While Marcus cradled Amber in his arms, cooing softly, I wound up with everything I had and slapped him across the face.

That slap knocked every last shred of foolish love right out of me.

Marcus's expression twisted into something vicious.

Before he could speak, Amber's hands shot out and shoved me hard.

I stumbled backward. I might have caught my balance, but Amber stuck her foot out and tripped me.

When I fell, the corner of the desk caught my head.

Blood blurred my vision.

Marcus hesitated -- just for a moment -- then helped me onto the sofa.

He tossed the first-aid kit in front of me.

"She is just my secretary. Why do you insist on stooping to her level? Show a little grace. As long as you behave, nobody's going to take the title of Mrs. Thorne from you."

Amber stood there looking like a scolded child, her lip quivering as she gazed up at Marcus.

"Marcus, maybe I shouldn't be here at all. Maybe... maybe I should just get rid of the baby."

Marcus pulled her into his arms immediately.

"Don't be silly, sweetheart."

Watching the two of them in their tender little tableau, a sharp pain twisted through my chest.

I grabbed one of Marcus's prized golf clubs -- the one he'd paid a fortune for -- and brought it down on the mahogany desk.

Apparently terrified that Amber might get hurt, Marcus clutched her tight against him.

A cold fury settled deep in my bones. My hands didn't stop.

Not until I'd destroyed everything on that desk did I finally collapse onto the sofa, spent.

"Are you done?"

Marcus's voice was ice.

I laughed.

I leveled the golf club at Amber, still nestled in his arms.

Marcus instinctively shielded her with his body. That image -- his first thought to protect her -- sent a fresh ache through my heart.

I drew a deep breath and summoned every ounce of the heiress I used to be.

"Take your trash and get the hell out of my sight."

The word trash struck a nerve.

Marcus rose to his feet.

"This is my office. You destroyed my property. Vivienne, you've gone too far this time."

Too far?

I laughed coldly.

I raised the golf club.

It connected squarely with Marcus's shin.

He crumpled, one knee hitting the floor in front of me.

I aimed the club between his legs.

"I can go a lot further."

Marcus's hands flew to cover himself.

A flicker of genuine terror crossed his eyes.

"Have you... lost your mind?"

I stood, towering over him, and spat in his face.

Then I picked up the phone and called the security team.

"Send two people to the CEO's office."

Two guards arrived quickly. But instead of approaching Marcus, they walked toward me.

Amber smirked.

"Oh, Miss Ashford, you miscalculated. My brother Ryan runs the security team. They answer to me."

She turned to the two guards.

"Remove this corporate spy who broke into the CEO's office and attempted to steal company secrets."

I looked at Marcus.

"You're letting her pull this?"

Marcus limped to his feet.

He pointed at the wreckage covering the floor. "There's your evidence of corporate espionage right there. Vivienne, I'll give you one more chance. Apologize to Amber right now and promise you'll never show your face here again, and I'll let this slide. Besides..."

"Amber has never wanted to be Mrs. Thorne. So as long as you go home and play the good little housewife, the title is yours to keep."

My pupils contracted.

"Marcus. Are you sure about that?"

Marcus smiled.

"Vivienne, I'm the CEO now. And let's be honest -- your parents are getting old. They're not in any position to do much of anything. One word from me, and I can have you hauled away by the authorities. A few years locked up -- that's all it would take. Just one word."

I smiled back.

"Marcus, you seem to have forgotten what I'm capable of."

Marcus froze.

Chapter 3

"What are you going to do?"

I walked toward Marcus.

"I'm going to turn you back into the nobody you used to be."

Marcus went quiet for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Vivienne, stop dreaming. The company's been under my control for ages now. As for your parents..."

He scoffed.

"They already handed the company over to me. All they've got left is the five-hundred-dollar monthly allowance I give them. What exactly do you think they can do to change anything?"

I hurled a teacup to the floor.

A shard of glass grazed Marcus's cheek as it shattered.

A bead of blood rolled down his face.

"Are you sure my parents only have this one company?"

Marcus frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I glanced at Amber, who had rushed over to cling to his arm.

I smiled brightly. "When I first met you, you'd been beaten bloody by some homeless guy, begging on the side of the road like a stray dog. I took pity on you. I asked my father to sponsor your education."

Those words were the last thing Marcus ever wanted to hear.

His face cycled between ashen and purple.

"That was the old me. I'm the one calling the shots now. You, the former heiress, need me to survive."

Amber stood on her tiptoes and kissed Marcus on the cheek.

She looked at me with open defiance. "Marcus loves me now, me and our baby. Vivienne, stop acting like you're still some pampered heiress. You've been kicked to the curb."

Kicked to the curb?

I let out a cold laugh.

Right in front of Marcus, I dialed my father's assistant.

"Get up here. Now."

The words had barely left my mouth when the door swung open.

Declan Mercer strode in with several bodyguards.

He came straight to me.

And gave a slight bow.

"Miss Ashford, I've brought everything you requested."

I took the divorce papers he held out and flung them at Marcus.

"Sign. Then get out."

Marcus's expression shifted again and again.

Amber grabbed his arm. "Marcus, if she were really an heiress, why would she have lived in a basement with you? Why would she have survived on plain bread? Don't forget, you were appointed CEO by headquarters because of your talent. You landed those major deals. They valued you for your abilities."

Marcus's confidence returned after hearing Amber's little speech.

He looked at me with contempt.

"Vivienne, I'll admit the actor you hired isn't bad. But don't waste your energy. Some pretty boy isn't going to change a thing."

Pretty boy?

I glanced at Declan Mercer, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed, and couldn't help but curve my lips.

"Declan, I seem to recall you absolutely hate being called a pretty boy. And everyone who's ever called you that has paid for it."

Declan nodded, stepped forward, and clamped his large hand down on Marcus's shoulder.

With just the slightest squeeze, Marcus was already grimacing in pain.

"Let... let go."

Declan pressed down a little harder.

Marcus's eyes went red with pain.

Declan looked at me and sighed. "Miss Ashford, terrible taste in men."