Through the meticulous, ruthless work of Marcus Sterling and my legal team, the divorce had been finalized with brutal efficiency.
Because of the ironclad prenuptial agreement, the documented police report of domestic battery, and his inability to afford a competent attorney on a retail clerk’s salary, Greg walked away from the marriage with exactly what he had brought into it: absolutely nothing. He was awarded no alimony, no equity in the house, and no access to my accounts.
I heard through a mutual acquaintance in the city that the thirty-day eviction had been executed flawlessly. Greg and Olga had been forced to move their meager belongings into a cramped, un-airconditioned, one-bedroom apartment near a noisy interstate highway on the bad side of town.
Greg was working extra shifts to cover the rent, and Olga, stripped of her suburban kingdom, spent her days trapped in a tiny, noisy box, entirely dependent on a son who now bitterly resented her for costing him a life of luxury.
The refrigerator in that cheap apartment, I imagined with a dark, quiet satisfaction, was probably very old, and very loud.
I didn’t care. They were ghosts haunting a miserable life I no longer lived.
I stood in the master suite of my new home—a stunning, sprawling, multi-million-dollar penthouse overlooking the glittering skyline of the city. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of a world I had conquered. The air inside the penthouse smelled of expensive jasmine candles and fresh rain, not boiling cabbage and oppressive demands.
I was now the Executive Vice President of Acquisitions for the entire North American division. My portfolio had tripled. My life was entirely, beautifully my own.
I walked over to the massive, king-sized bed.
Resting on the pristine white duvet was a beautifully wrapped, matte-black box tied with a thick satin ribbon.
I untied the ribbon and slowly lifted the lid.
Inside, nestled in dark tissue paper, was a brand new, floor-length, 100% pure Mulberry silk robe. I hadn’t bought it in pearl white this time. I had ordered it dyed in a deep, vibrant, triumphant crimson.
I lifted the robe from the box. It felt like cool water against my skin. I slipped my arms into the sleeves, letting the heavy, expensive fabric cascade down my back, gently grazing the faded, silvery scars on my shoulder.
I tied the belt securely around my waist.
I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the city lights twinkling far below. I wrapped my arms around myself, encased in luxury that I paid for, standing in a fortress that belonged only to me.
I smiled a genuine, peaceful smile, knowing with absolute, unshakeable certainty that no one would ever, ever dare ask me for a dime again.
See more on the next page
