Designing My Husband's Demise
For our wedding anniversary, my husband used my black card to buy me a limited-edition watch.
I'd come home to grab some files, only to be met with the sickeningly sweet sound of my apprentice, Giselle Monroe, whispering with my husband.
"Andre, your wife is nothing but a walking wallet. What does she know about being wild? She could never ignite you like I can."
Andre sighed. Then, in an indulgent tone, he said, "Brooke is too perfectâperfect to the point of being suffocating. Not like you. Youâre like a wild vine wrapped around me, making me feel the searing heat of life."
Just then, his mother, Sylvia Cavanaugh, called. He put her on speaker. "Andre, you need to act fast. While Brooke still loves you, take control of all the secrets and assets she holds over the higher-ups and make them your own. That girl, Giselle, looks promisingâshe's much better than that icy queen you have for a wife."
I gripped the cold doorknob, listening to the shameless pair in the study and the venomous woman on the phone. The family crest heâd tattooed on his backâfor meâfelt like it was burning a hole right through my skin.
I immediately sent an encrypted message to our banker in Switzerland, my mind already fixed on my next move.
See you at the family meeting, you ungrateful traitors.