Breaking the Trophy WifeChapter 1

My husband, Lawrence, sent his secretary to “assist” me with a business negotiation at a downtown restaurant.

But at the dinner table, she deliberately made things difficult, goading the client into forcing me to drink.

I cited a severe alcohol allergy and tried to leave, but she physically blocked my path.

“Zoe, you’re just a trophy wife. When you’re told to drink, you drink. Cut the crap.”

A small smile touched my lips. I tore the contract in half right there and then, and dialed my husband’s number.

“Your secretary seems to think the Vance family doesn’t need me anymore. Is that right?”

* * *

“You think crying to the big boss is going to help you, you delicate little flower?”

Before Lawrence could even speak, the secretary, Wendy, snatched the phone from my hand.

“Let me make one thing clear,” she spat, her voice low and menacing. “You’re drinking this tonight, whether you want to or not.”

I shot her a look that could freeze fire. “And if I don’t?”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been threatened before. Congratulations on being the first.”

The line was still open. Lawrence’s voice, tinny and annoyed, came through the speaker. “Zoe, can you stop making a scene? Wendy is doing this for the good of the company. Just listen to her.”

I almost laughed out loud. Lawrence’s words were a bitter joke.

Since when did I, Zoe Clarke, need a mere secretary telling me how to conduct business?

Our client, a Mr. Davis, hadn’t even made his demands yet when Wendy proactively offered him a twenty-percent cut of our profits. Even then, he wasn’t satisfied. He insisted I had to down an entire bottle of top-shelf whiskey before he’d sign.

Forget for a moment that my life-threatening allergy to alcohol was common knowledge at the company; the deal itself was rotten to the core.

I was about to demand an explanation from Lawrence, but Wendy ended the call.

“You heard him,” she said with a triumphant smirk. “Even your husband says to listen to me. What more fight have you got in you?”

I slowly lifted my head, my voice devoid of all warmth. “He doesn’t get a say in this.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Mr. Davis shot to his feet. “If I’m not mistaken, you must be Mr. Vance’s pretty little wife.” He raked his eyes over me, a sneer playing on his lips. “I can see now that some people just aren’t cut out for business.”

“All I asked was for you to have a drink with me, and you tear up the contract?” he continued, his voice rising. “If your husband finds out about this, I bet he’ll divorce you on the spot.”

Hearing this, a slow, knowing smile spread across my face. “You and Wendy are in this together, aren't you, Mr. Davis?”

A businessman’s greatest asset is keen observation. From the moment I walked in, I’d noticed the conspiratorial glances they exchanged. Wendy, the Chairman’s secretary, wasn’t fighting for her company’s interests. She was colluding with the other party to corner one of her own.

It was becoming clear this whole dinner was a trap, and I was the target.

Mr. Davis’s eyes darted away for a second before he regained his composure. “Of course not! I’m just calling it like I see it. Everyone at this table worked their asses off to get where they are. You’re the only one who’s just a pretty face.”

His voice dripped with contempt. “As the client, I’m the one with the power here. I tell you to drink, you drink. Understood?”

The table erupted in sycophantic laughter.

My gaze swept across the room, cold and sharp. “Mr. Davis, I’ll admit I’ve stayed out of the public eye these past few years. But I’m not fond of the term ‘pretty face.’ I suggest you don’t use it again.”

My eyes narrowed, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Because if I get angry… none of you will like the consequences.”

At that, Wendy shot up from her seat. “Zoe, I’m standing right here! Who the hell do you think you’re trying to fool?” she snapped. “Others might not know your story, but I do! Lawrence told me everything. You only married into the Vance family because of some old promise between your parents. He never, ever wanted you.”

I slowly squinted, my eyes fixed on her. “Oh, really? Is that what Lawrence told you?”

Wendy nodded, her face alight with malicious glee. “Of course. He’s been wanting to divorce you for ages. You’re the one who’s been clinging to his family like a leech.”

Her words hit me like a physical blow. For a moment, I couldn't tell what was a lie and what was the horrifying truth. But one thing was certain: a mere secretary wouldn’t dare challenge me so openly without someone powerful backing her.

I had to get to the bottom of this. I needed to go back to the office and confront Lawrence, face to face.

But as I stood up, a heavy hand slammed me back down into my chair.

“The party’s not over,” Wendy sneered. “Where do you think you’re going?”