The Trophy Wifes Ruthless Revenge

Keely Harrington stepped out of the private elevator.

The wheels of her silver Rimowa suitcase sank into the thick Persian rug. She kept her movements light. Her high heels made no sound against the floorboards.

She expected Maria, their housekeeper, to be waiting in the foyer to take her coat. But the entryway was empty.

Keely paused. A strange scent hit her nose.

It was a cheap vanilla perfume. It cut right through the familiar, expensive cedarwood scent that usually filled the penthouse.

Her eyes dropped to the shoe rack. A pair of bright red stilettos sat next to Haden's Italian leather loafers. They were not hers.

Her pulse spiked. A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck.

She kept her face completely blank. She lowered the handle of her suitcase, inch by inch, making sure the metal did not click.

She slipped out of her trench coat and draped it over the velvet chair by the door.

A low, muffled sound drifted down the hallway.

Keely followed the heavy breathing. Her stomach tightened with every step. She walked toward the guest room at the end of the hall.

The heavy mahogany doors were cracked open about two inches. The dim light from the wall sconces sliced through the gap.

Keely looked through the opening.

Haden's custom-tailored suit jacket lay crumpled on the floor. He had just put it on this morning.

Right next to it was a pair of torn black lace underwear.

A low, guttural groan vibrated from Haden's chest.

Keely's eyes moved to the bed. Two bodies were tangled in the sheets.