His Trophy Wife, Her Secret Life

His Trophy Wife, Her Secret Life

Gavin

5.0
Comment(s)
105
View
11
Chapters

My wife, Sophia Hayes, was beautiful, poised, and utterly detached. For five years, our marriage had been a bizarre, silent transaction: she'd disappear for days, even weeks, to "support" her childhood sweetheart and his failing tech startup. Each time she returned, a lavish "guilt offering" would appear – a vintage Patek, a signed first edition, a priceless Ming vase. Ninety-nine such gifts now filled our sterile mansion, each a screaming monument to her absence and my bitter complicity. I was no longer the man who' d clung to hope, who' d screamed and shattered expensive crystal. Today, as she fastened a diamond bracelet, preparing for her hundredth departure, she waved away my feigned concern for our anniversary, prioritizing his celebration. "I need you to sign this," I said, offering a document I' d subtly placed among her latest "gift." She signed, carelessly dismissing it as a prenup addendum, already thinking of David. She didn' t read the fine print. She never did. "PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE" it read, the final decree awaiting its ironclad confirmation. The world saw her as a successful patron, supporting a talented founder, but at a glamorous gala, the veil slipped. A reporter, sensing blood, asked, "Are you two an item?" Panic flashed in Sophia' s eyes, and in her fear, she sought me out – her hidden husband – to rescue her public image. I stepped from the shadows, played my part, and then watched as she rushed not to me, but to him, murmuring reassurances. That night, she didn't come home; the next morning, she arrived, exhausted but triumphant, thanking me for "saving us." She dismissed my quiet anger as humility, oblivious. "You asked me to be there, Sophia," I said, watching her carefully curated world unravel. "I did? When?" she asked, genuinely bewildered. Her memory, a weapon of convenience, had erased my very existence. I nodded, utterly calm as she detailed her next trip with David, making another empty promise for "us" once she returned. That date was the day our divorce would be finalized. A cold, hard satisfaction settled in my gut; the world she had built was about to come crashing down. Just not in the way she expected.

Introduction

My wife, Sophia Hayes, was beautiful, poised, and utterly detached.

For five years, our marriage had been a bizarre, silent transaction: she'd disappear for days, even weeks, to "support" her childhood sweetheart and his failing tech startup.

Each time she returned, a lavish "guilt offering" would appear – a vintage Patek, a signed first edition, a priceless Ming vase.

Ninety-nine such gifts now filled our sterile mansion, each a screaming monument to her absence and my bitter complicity.

I was no longer the man who' d clung to hope, who' d screamed and shattered expensive crystal.

Today, as she fastened a diamond bracelet, preparing for her hundredth departure, she waved away my feigned concern for our anniversary, prioritizing his celebration.

"I need you to sign this," I said, offering a document I' d subtly placed among her latest "gift."

She signed, carelessly dismissing it as a prenup addendum, already thinking of David.

She didn' t read the fine print. She never did.

"PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE" it read, the final decree awaiting its ironclad confirmation.

The world saw her as a successful patron, supporting a talented founder, but at a glamorous gala, the veil slipped.

A reporter, sensing blood, asked, "Are you two an item?"

Panic flashed in Sophia' s eyes, and in her fear, she sought me out – her hidden husband – to rescue her public image.

I stepped from the shadows, played my part, and then watched as she rushed not to me, but to him, murmuring reassurances.

That night, she didn't come home; the next morning, she arrived, exhausted but triumphant, thanking me for "saving us."

She dismissed my quiet anger as humility, oblivious.

"You asked me to be there, Sophia," I said, watching her carefully curated world unravel.

"I did? When?" she asked, genuinely bewildered.

Her memory, a weapon of convenience, had erased my very existence.

I nodded, utterly calm as she detailed her next trip with David, making another empty promise for "us" once she returned.

That date was the day our divorce would be finalized.

A cold, hard satisfaction settled in my gut; the world she had built was about to come crashing down.

Just not in the way she expected.

Continue Reading

Other books by Gavin

More
He Traded A Diamond For Cheap Glass

He Traded A Diamond For Cheap Glass

Mafia

5.0

I was the "Ice Queen," the perfect Mafia wife who managed the De Luca empire's millions while my husband, Alessandro, played the part of the feared Underboss. I thought my silence and competence earned me respect. That was until I woke up in the estate's medical bay with a shattered leg. My saddle had snapped mid-jump. It wasn't wear and tear; it was sabotage. Lying in the dark, feigning sleep, I heard Alessandro whispering outside my door with his enforcer. "The buckle was filed down," the enforcer said urgently. "Aria tampered with it. She could have broken her neck." I waited for Alessandro’s rage. I waited for him to execute the mistress who tried to kill his wife. Instead, his voice was cold and dismissive. "Bury it," Alessandro ordered. "It’s just a broken leg. Aria was upset about the credit cards. She just wanted to teach Katarina a lesson." A lesson. My husband wasn't just cheating on me; he was protecting the woman who tried to cripple me. Three days later, at the Family Charity Gala, he humiliated me publicly. He outbid me for my grandmother's heirloom necklace and clasped it around Aria's neck while I watched from my wheelchair. He thought I was broken. He thought I was just a piece of furniture to be rearranged. He didn't know I had bugged the entire villa while I was recovering. He didn't know I had the recordings of what Aria was really doing when he wasn't looking. I gripped the USB drive in my pocket and signaled the tech team to lock the doors. The statue was broken, but he was about to learn that shattered ice is sharp enough to slit a throat.

You'll also like

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book