Good Wives Finish Last: Revenge of the Billionaire's Ex Wife

remembe

e next, I was slumped in Vena's alley behind Marisol's restaurant. My Bentley sat crooked, one tire kissi

-up. I'd cried here at nineteen when residuals dried up and Mom's chemo bills piled higher than my pride. Every

sn't hiding.

anding in what smelled like old fish sauce. The sound that tore out of me wasn't human

Christ,

chef's whites, knife in one hand, cigarette dangling from

nual breakdown isn't u

ame out was another ugly sob

hauled me up by the armpits like I weighed nothin

ough the sizzling kitchen. They'd seen fallen stars before

equila into a chipped mug that read WORLD'S OKA

. Then

regret and hospital h

irt that morning. The penthouse. The table. The way he kept goi

thrift-store dress with a hole in the hem. Every trust-fund bitch in the room wanted to claw your eyes out because you still outshone them. Zayden didn't fall in love that night, mija. He saw

aughter caring for her dying mother. All that remained was the polished influencer on marble

and fierce. "He didn't save y

she offered conversationally. "Auto-erotic asphyxiati

bodi

grin turned wolfish. "Remind the world who you wer

d on the desk.

nsw

ey and midnight money. "Dexter Simmons. H

row shot towar

earlier work. The real you. Saint Erina Saves the Day-teaching broke kids gourmet grilled cheese wh

arisol grinned as Chr

stage. Two chairs. You, and the powerful women the world tried to bury. Senators' wives. Tech widows.

riginal title: A

ut I won't do a show where a man packages female rage for mass consu

risol's eyes screamed

rolled through the ph

't sign off on anything that feels like it came from a boardroom

me y

l mouthed the words with me like we were

ves Fini

Jesus Christ. That's vicious. Mothers are going to

ets you.' Contract amendment in your inbox in four minutes. Same money. Same control. Because i

the desk so hard

d to own your story. I just wanted to hand you the microphone

ne wen

The new title sat there in bold-Good Wives

me, half-laugh, half-sob. Fish sauce on my cashmer

ce and kissed my forehead hard. "A job? Mija, yo

through me. "I need lawyers. The kind tha

"You're not div

n't k