From Trophy Wife to Scientific Queen
My husband Julian celebrated our five-year anniversary by sleeping with his mistress. He thought I was a clueless trophy wife, too dim to notice the vanilla and tuberose scent on his expensive suits. He was wrong. For years, I played Mrs. Vance, hiding my brilliance while Julian claimed my patents.
An anonymous email confirmed his ultimate betrayal: photos of him and Scarlett Kensington in ecstasy. My heart didn't break; it solidified into ice at five years wasted.
I activated "The Protocol" for a new identity and escape countdown. Playing the doting wife, I plotted his downfall, catching him with his mistress selling my work, and publicly snapping his credit card.
His betrayals and stolen work ignited a cold, calculated fury. He had no idea the monster he'd created. I was dismantling his empire.
I shredded his patent papers, stripping him of his ill-gotten gains. With a final tap, I initiated "Identity Erasure." Mrs. Vance was dead. Dr. Evelyn Thorne had just begun her counterattack.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 7
The next morning, the apartment was quiet. The shattered vase was gone, swept away by the housekeeper who came at dawn.
Evelyn emerged from the guest room, dressed for battle in a sleek black dress. She walked into the kitchen.
On the granite island sat a massive bouquet of white roses. At least four dozen. They looked like a funeral arrangement.
Next to them was a card: I'm sorry. Stress at work. Forgive me?
Julian walked in from the living room. He looked sheepish, holding a small envelope.
"I overreacted," he said, using his "charming boy" voice, the one that worked on investors. "I've just been under so much pressure with the IPO. And when I saw that coat... I got jealous."
Evelyn felt bile rise. He was gaslighting her. Rewriting history less than twelve hours after it happened.
She decided to play the game. The clock was ticking down.
"I know," she said, forcing a tight smile. "We're both tired."
Julian relaxed visibly. He thought he had won. He handed her the envelope.
"I noticed your Amex was... damaged yesterday," he said, a hint of accusation in his tone. "I had the bank rush a replacement. It's the Platinum card. The limit is higher."
He was trying to buy her back. He was acknowledging the broken card without admitting why she broke it.
Evelyn took the envelope. "You're too good to me," she lied.
"Make it up to you tonight?" he whispered, leaning in. "Dinner? Just us?"
Evelyn pulled away gently. "I have a migraine, Julian. Maybe tomorrow."
Julian's face fell, but he nodded. "Of course. Rest."
He left, whistling as he walked to the elevator.
As soon as the doors closed, Evelyn tossed the envelope onto the counter unopened. She went to the laundry room. She spent the next hour carefully treating the stain on Alistair's jacket with an enzymatic cleaner she had mixed herself. She steamed the wool until it looked brand new.
She placed the jacket in a garment bag. She couldn't return it in person. Not yet.
She pulled out her burner phone.
"Draft the papers," she told her lawyer. "I want them ready to file the moment I give the signal. Not a second before."
She looked at the white roses. She grabbed the vase and dumped the entire arrangement into the trash compactor. The crushing sound was satisfying.
Keep Reading
The story is getting intense! Switch to App to
Unlock All Chapters