PLEASE LOVE ME

His Trophy Wife, The Apex Predator

Eydie Pfefferle

My husband of three years, Arthur Vanderbilt, came home smelling of his mistress's perfume and threw divorce papers on our marble kitchen island. He demanded I sign away all rights to our assets for a five-million-dollar "severance," calling me a leech his family picked up from the suburbs to solve a temporary PR crisis. When I refused and demanded my four percent equity in the Vanderbilt Group, he and his mistress, Serena, launched a vicious smear campaign. They planted false stories on Wall Street forums, accusing me of laundering money for an Eastern European crime syndicate. They tried to force my hand with a check for five hundred million, which I tore up and threw in his face. To them, I was just a trophy wife they could easily discard. They had no idea that the "leech" they so despised was the anonymous investor who had secretly bailed out their entire company three years ago, saving them from bankruptcy. Their final move was to hire an actress to publicly accuse me of fraud in the lobby of the most powerful law firm in Manhattan. They didn't realize I was there to retain the firm's most ruthless lawyer. After security threw them out, I looked my replacement in the eye and made her a promise. "Prepare for an FBI probe into perjury and corporate defamation."

Modern Revenge

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I was stunned to see these words on the pregnancy ultrasound result. How could I get pregnant after I had sex with him for only once? What should I do now?

If I told Dennis George about it, would he give up divorcing me? No. Instead, he would take me as a shameless woman who used the baby as a lever to manipulate him.

I pulled myself together, stuffed the ultrasound report into my bag and walked out of the hospital.

There was a shining black Maybach parking out of the hospital building whose driver’s side window was slightly open, and a man’s handsome but grim upper face could be faintly seen through it. Naturally, the fancy car and the attractive man received many stares from passers-by.

Admittedly, Dennis was a wealthy and charming man, and I had long got used to it after all these years. So I ignored the strange looks from passers-by and sat on the passenger seat.

Dennis, who was resting his mind with his eyes closed, sensed the movement, gave a slight frown and murmured without opening his eyes, "Everything done?"

"Yes!" I nodded and handed the signed contract with the hospital to him, adding, "Mr. Pearson sends greetings to you."

Originally, I planned to come to the hospital to sign the contract on my own, but I met Dennis halfway and he insisted on, somehow, giving me a ride.

"You’ll take full charge of this case from now on." Dennis, a man of few words, didn’t take the contract but said to me flatly before starting the car.

I nodded in agreement, saying no more. It seemed that I could do nothing else but accept commands and carry out the tasks since I had kept quiet for too long.

It was at nightfall, and our car was rushing towards the center of the city. Where was he heading for if he wasn’t driving back to our house? I was curious, but I never asked about his intention, so I remained silent.

Thinking of the ultrasound report, I was lost for words for a moment. I stole a glance at Dennis, who was looking straight ahead with his sharp and stern eyes.

"Dennis!" I called, clutching my bag, my palms sweating from nervousness.

"What is it?" asked he in a cold and emotionless voice.

He had always been blunt to me and I was accustomed to it. I settled myself down, took a breath and went on, "I…"

Before I could say "… am pregnant", Dennis’ phone rang while I choked down the words.

"What’s up, Olivia?" Sometimes, a man’s tenderness was meant for a certain woman, and so were his deep love and happiness.

In this case, Dennis’ gentleness was just for Olivia Pearson, and one could easily tell from the way he talked to her.

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