Choices

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

Download the Book on the App

The wrought-iron gates of the Knight Estate swung open, and a scarlet Audi R8, limited edition, swept smoothly along the gravelled drive.

Christian Knight stepped out, immaculate in a tailored charcoal-grey suit.

He shut the car door with controlled force and adjusted his cufflinks, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed his agitation.

Without acknowledging the staff, he strode across the courtyard, past the tiered marble fountain, and towards the grand Italianate façade of the house.

The house steward opened the heavy mahogany door at once.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

“Where is my grandfather?” Christian asked curtly.

“In the drawing room, sir. With Mr. Luke.”

Christian gave a brief nod and proceeded down the corridor.

In the drawing room, Leonard Knight sat opposite his son, Luke, both men sipping espresso and discussing forthcoming acquisitions. The air was calm—almost deliberately so.

Christian entered without ceremony.

“Grandpa, may I ask why I have just learned of an engagement I never agreed to?”

Luke’s head lifted sharply. Leonard, however, merely placed his cup upon its saucer.

“I assumed you would appreciate decisiveness,” he replied mildly.

“Decisiveness?” Christian let out a humourless laugh. “You have arranged my marriage without so much as consulting me.”

His gaze flickered towards his father.

“Surely this concerns my life as much as the company’s.”

Luke shifted uncomfortably but remained silent.

Leonard regarded his grandson steadily.

“If you intend to take the position of CEO of Knight Group, you will marry the young lady I have selected. If you do not, the position shall pass to Jake. He has expressed both readiness and enthusiasm.”

Christian’s composure fractured.

“I have devoted years to getting that role,” he said tightly. “You cannot attach marriage as a condition of employment.”

“I can,” Leonard replied evenly. “And I have.”

Christian exhaled sharply. “I am already in a relationship. You met Lia yourself.”

“I did,” Leonard said. “And I was not impressed.”

A brief silence settled over the room.

“The woman I have chosen for you,” Leo continued, “is accomplished, well-educated, and from a respectable family. She possesses qualities that endure beyond charm and flattery.”

Christian’s voice hardened. “And if I refuse?”

Leonard folded his hands. “Then you forfeit the company, the estate, and any claim to the Knight legacy. You will have two hours to gather your personal belongings. Nothing more.”

Luke rose from his seat. “Father—”

“The decision is made,” Leonard said calmly.

Christian stared at his grandfather, disbelief giving way to wounded pride.

“So that is it? Years of hard work reduced to a transaction.”

“No,” Leonard corrected. “Years of preparation culminating in responsibility.”

Christian straightened.

Read Now