Frown

His Trophy Wife, The Apex Predator

Eydie Pfefferle

My husband of three years, Arthur Vanderbilt, came home smelling of his mistress's perfume and threw divorce papers on our marble kitchen island. He demanded I sign away all rights to our assets for a five-million-dollar "severance," calling me a leech his family picked up from the suburbs to solve a temporary PR crisis. When I refused and demanded my four percent equity in the Vanderbilt Group, he and his mistress, Serena, launched a vicious smear campaign. They planted false stories on Wall Street forums, accusing me of laundering money for an Eastern European crime syndicate. They tried to force my hand with a check for five hundred million, which I tore up and threw in his face. To them, I was just a trophy wife they could easily discard. They had no idea that the "leech" they so despised was the anonymous investor who had secretly bailed out their entire company three years ago, saving them from bankruptcy. Their final move was to hire an actress to publicly accuse me of fraud in the lobby of the most powerful law firm in Manhattan. They didn't realize I was there to retain the firm's most ruthless lawyer. After security threw them out, I looked my replacement in the eye and made her a promise. "Prepare for an FBI probe into perjury and corporate defamation."

Modern Revenge

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(Bella)

It's my two years anniversary this coming weekend and I've been ecstatic about it. My marriage to Dean has been blissful, peaceful and above all our love grew each passing day.

The doorbell rings, pulling me out of my thoughts, I smile knowing Ashley, my best friend is here, I applied my lipstick and take a quick glance at the mirror before hurrying downstairs.

Dean's out on an important business trip and Ashley's inviting me for a girl's night out.

Honestly, I'm in no mood for alcohol, I haven't been feeling too good but Ashley's insisting, and thinking about it now, she's right, it's been long we stepped out. So yeah.

"Hi, darling," I say with a wide smile, giving Ashley a quick kiss on the cheeks. "How do I look?" I spread my arms, expecting her praises.

Her eyes darts on me for a while and then a smile forms. "You look -stunning, as always." She says, her smile spreading across her face.

"Thank you, boo. You look as stunning yourself," I reply and then I tilted my head. "Where are we going?" I ask.

"It's a surprise, but a good time is assured," she says, her smile still in place.

"Alright, but Ash I'm not drinking too much tonight, haven't been feeling too good lately," I say just in case. "Plus you know I'm not good with alcohol,"

"Roger that, now after you," she winks as we exit my penthouse.

******

My eyes slowly opens, adjusting to the light in the room, I'm in bed, and in a strange room.

I straightened up quickly and turned to see Ashley sleeping beside me, and only then did I breath out in relief.

God, last night was--- I can barely even remember a thing, the only thing that I can remember was entering the club with Ashley, laughing and talking through the loud music and then me slowly sipping my first drink.

Everything goes blank afterwards, like it's been erased from my memory or something. I guess I had too much of that amber liquid.

My head hurts, my body feels like it's been hit by a freight train, I'm staying off alcohol for a long time.

Ashley stirs beside me and slowly opens her eyes. "You're awake," she says with a yawn.

I nod but then I ask. "How did I end up here?" I raise my brows, skeptical.

Ashley shrug it off. "We both had much to drink, couldn't drive in that state, so I figured we should crash here,"

I nod again, not remembering anything isn't even helpful at all but I'm grateful Ashley has us sorted out.

"Thanks, Ash. We should wash up and leave, I need to pickup Dean's anniversary gift," a smile finds it's way to my face as I say this.

Ashley gives me a tiny smile. "Right, we should."

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