The Trophy wife revenge

pte

of V

y had been built solely to frame her silhouette. She was a sight to behold: tall, angular, French-born, and dressed in a slender silk gown from her own line, Moreau Noire. Her d

crime. Formerly military, now an elusive strategist for Verona Bay's most influential elites. He exuded the fiery charisma of a war veteran who had returned more

d. "You don't either. However, here we are. That was all it took. The fuse went off. They collided in secret areas of Verona Bay over the next few weeks. Cocktail bars in the back with no names. The velvet lounges of the Orchid Room, a forbidden nightclub hidden behind the storefront of a flower shop. They were aware they were being observed. Whether it was Marcus' silent wars or Valeria'

tclub built above an old bomb shelter. Marcus followed her down the mirrored staircase into the abandoned corridor behind the wine cellar while th

ng to her hips. She gasped into his mouth as she detected risk and heat. They didn't undress delicately. Clothes were torn, shoved aside. Her thigh hooked around his waist as he lifted her effortlessly against the wall, her hee

ghtclub above-it all melted away. There was only them. Her breathless gasps and the grunt o

nutes. Just lay tangled on the fur rug she kept in

d that night. They

esso and bruises on his ribs from unknown fights. At first, she only designed in black

Bay doesn't last w

a's name was scrawled in lipstick across a bullet-ridden wall. She responded by inviting Verona Bay's mos

war. A myth whispered through the upper

eir love was the only truth that

always

ound Valeri

nges. She was elegance personified-an heiress with a tragic grace, an artist's spirit housed in a politician's wife. H

ed interviews, their union was a stage play

a gilded prison, and only a few p

lls, and follow her movements to prevent her from straying too far from him. But Adrian, battle-worn and cynical, found himself drawn into Valeria's silent cries for help. She was no lon

Izzy loathed Marcus openly. She visited Valeria under the guise of social calls, but her real mission was emotional rescue. Together they would drink wine by the fir

man-he was an executioner, a cleaner, and sometimes a confidant. He had a background in the military and eyes that saw everything. Everyone in the

was using his wife's name to steal money from government contracts. Elena didn't trust Valeria-at first. However, the more she dug, the more she came to the realization that Valeria might n

etic. After years abroad, he returned, resurfacing like a ghost Valeria never laid to rest. He wanted her back-not just the woman, but her heart, her soul,

s in his closet. He helped Marcus ascend the political ladder in exchange for favors, money, and silence. But Tient's enemies were circling

s not the victim she appeared to be, nor the villain Marcus feared she might become. Somewhere between love and ru

l story wasn't a

ut how she

g directly into her earpiece in the dead of night. From the other side of the mansion, Marcus's private study echo

now." She will be eliminated as soon

e talking about her. The woman he kissed in p

a dimly lit alley. Marcus was unmistakably there, placing his hand on the trafficker's shoulder and indicating his conse

ottle of sleeping pills by her side. Doctors were rushed in. Marcus, ever the concerned par

ared blankly at the ceiling, the I