Chapter 1
On the very day my husband Simon West's name appeared on the national wealth rankings, I walked into his office with a prepared divorce agreement.
I demanded forty percent of our marital assets, not a cent less.
He thought I was just throwing a tantrum and signed it with a cold laugh, probably convinced I would come back sooner or later, in tears, begging to reconcile.
When the news spread, friends and relatives on both sides were in an uproar. They all said I had lost my mind.
Why give up a comfortable life as a wealthy wife just to chase a bit of cash? It was like throwing away something valuable for something trivial.
I gave the proof of funds that had just been credited to my account a small shake and smiled calmly. "If I have to choose, I would rather go after money than wait to be abandoned."
*****
Simon made the wealth rankings at nine that morning.
Financial news alerts flooded in one after another.
In the photo, he wore a custom suit, sharp-eyed and full of confidence.
At 9:15, I was standing outside his office.
His new secretary, Lily, stopped me.
"Mrs. West, Mr. West is in a meeting."
I pushed the door open.
The room was thick with smoke.
Simon sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, a cigar between his fingers, on the phone.
He saw me, frowned slightly, and told the person on the line to wait.
Then he hung up.
"What is it? I'm busy."
The impatience in his voice was unmistakable.
I had been hearing it for five years.
I set the document folder on his black walnut desk.
It made a soft sound.
"Divorce."
He paused for a moment, then laughed.
The look on his face was full of mockery and dismissal.
"Joanna, cut it out.
"I don't have time to play along with this kind of childish game."
I pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.
"I'm not joking.
"This is the divorce agreement. I've already signed it."
I took the papers out of the folder and slid them toward him.
The terms were laid out clearly in black and white.
His gaze finally dropped to the document.
When he reached the clause on the division of marital assets, the smirk on his face deepened.
"Forty percent?"
He sounded as if he had just heard something ridiculous.
"Joanna, your appetite is getting bigger.
"You never used to talk to me about money."
I met his eyes, calm and steady.
"That was then.
"This is now.
"You know how many times your company's assets have multiplied over the past five years.
"Forty percent is what I'm owed."
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, studying me as if seeing me for the first time.
"What's your angle?"
"Money."
I answered without hesitation.
He clearly hadn't expected that kind of bluntness.
He paused, then picked up the gold pen on his desk and pulled off the cap.
With a few quick strokes, he signed his name at the bottom of the agreement, bold and sweeping, just like him.
"Joanna Quinn."
He pushed the signed papers back to me and said my name slowly, one word at a time.
"I'll give you the money.
"But remember this. Without me, it won't take long for it to slip through your fingers.
"Don't come back crying and begging me when that happens."
I gathered the agreement and stood.
"Don't worry. That won't happen."
I turned and walked out without a second thought.
As I reached the door, I heard him let out a cold laugh behind me. It was confident and arrogant.
He was sure I would regret it. Sure I couldn't live without him and the life he had built.
I opened the door and left.
Lily and the other assistants stared at me, a mix of shock and curiosity in their eyes.
I ignored them.
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside.
The metal doors slid shut, reflecting my calm expression.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I took it out.
A bank notification.
Simon works fast.
The number in the message was followed by a long string of zeros, so many that I had to count them carefully.
I counted twice to be sure.
Then I smiled.
Simon, you think I loved your money.
You're wrong.
What I want is something your money can't buy.
And very soon, you'll have nothing left.