The Billionaire's Perfect, Plastic Wife

h of highway and let out a scream that tore from the depths of my soul. I screamed until my throat was raw,

tears stopped. The shaking subsided. In the silence of the

ng their victim. Don

to a small, remote town in New Zealand, a place where no one would th

d systematically deleting every social media account, every online profile,

, most ruthless divorce attorney in the city. I had hired her weeks ago, on a gut

ing a thick stack of papers across her mahogany desk. "This document relinquis

p the pen and signed my name without a moment's

rd. "This states you waive any and all rights to marital asse

tainted." I signed that one too. I wanted

Then she leaned forward and pushed a small digital recorde

er, confused.

cted Knox might be cheating. I had my tech guy do a full data recovery. He

resse

cold and precise. "...the lake house, on

you sure this is necessar

ant. A small dose of a sedative in her morning coffee. Something to make her feel unwell, keep her in bed al

voice laced with resignation. "Fine

ording

as ours, a sanctuary from his family. The place where he

en't just going to leave me. They were going to drug me, to incapacitate me, to ensure I couldn't interfere with t

rdled into a

papers," I said, my v

ocument over. Divorce. I

I signed my name one last time. I pushed so

e was offici