Chapter 1
My husband, Edward Sterling, buys his new secretary a million-dollar necklace.
She immediately posts it on her Instagram story with the glittering diamonds against her skin. The caption read: [The reward for my hustle! So blessed! I'll do you proud, Mr. Sterling!]
His executive assistant screenshots it and sends it to me.
I forward it straight to Edward with a simple question: [So a million is nothing to you. What's a lot?]
He replies: [Anything over ten million, I suppose.]
I text back: [Wire me thirty million dollars. Now. Mark it as a gift.]
A new message pops up from him: [Come on, babe. Stop it.]
My next message is a video.
It shows me holding that ancient vase he loves more than anything. Then I open my hand to shatter it.
The vase is worth exactly thirty million dollars.
*****
Edward Sterling called me right away.
His voice was a raw nerve. "Do you have any idea how much that vase was worth? What the hell is your problem?"
"Edward," I said. "Was my text not clear enough?"
I glanced at my watch. "You have 34 seconds. I'm standing in front of that priceless scroll in your study. You know exactly what happens next."
The line went dead. Twenty seconds later, a notification lit up my phone: a thirty-million-dollar transfer into my account.
My only reply was a picture. It showed his favorite antique print. Now, it was a heap of torn paper on the hardwood floor.
[The vase was a warning. The scroll is your punishment.]
[Edward. You are a married man.]
After that, he went completely radio silent. There were no more calls and no follow-up texts.
I knew he was pissed.
Honestly, I couldn't have cared less.
In our world, marriage is a merger. If you find love along the way, you're one of the lucky ones. If not, that's just business as usual.
With Edward and me, it was somewhere in between. We were neutral from the start. We didn't dislike each other, but we didn't particularly like each other, either. That was the foundation.
We had no romantic connection. After the show of the wedding, we slept in separate rooms on our first night. We even said goodnight, like two strangers sharing a hotel suite.
It was almost six months before we finally had sex, and yes, I was the one who initiated it.
The Sterling family was old money, a family steeped in culture and suffocating propriety. They followed a rulebook for everything, which explained Edward's impeccably polite but distant demeanor.
But my family clawed our way up from the gutter. My dad built an empire with blood and concrete. We had no use for their pretentious rules; our way was straightforward and all-in.
That's why I never bought into love at first sight. For Edward and me, it was a slow burn, ignited by lust.
I loved Edward, and he loved me, but we were both pragmatic enough to know that love wasn't number one on the priority list, though it was not at the bottom, either.
This secretary, however, had crossed a line. Her shameless, giddy flaunting was an insult.
I wouldn't allow anyone to covet what was mine. A lingering look was a declaration of war.
But I also knew that the more you tried to crush something, the more fiercely it fought to grow.
Edward proved that point perfectly.
That night, he texted me.
Edward: [Have a business dinner. Don't wait up.]
I didn't bother replying. I had my own plans to make.
At 8 PM, my bestie, Chloe White, sent me a photo.
The background suggested a formal business dinner. Seated next to Edward was a young woman.
From her professionally styled hair and makeup to her outfit, she was clearly aiming for the "bright and sunny" type, with dimples that punctuated her sweet smile. It was clear she had spent hours getting ready.
Chloe texted: [WTF? Why is your man out with this little intern? You guys fighting?]
At the exact same moment, another message arrived from Lesley Green, Edward's assistant.
The secretary, Sophie Lane, I believe her name was, had posted again.
The caption read: [Attending such an elegant gala! Feeling one step closer to my dream life, all thanks to the most amazing mentor.]
The picture was a selfie of her, beaming. Her dimples were deeper than ever.
And there, around her neck, was the million-dollar necklace, catching the light like a beacon of her ambition.