For three years, she turned Axel Farrell into Silicon Valley’s perfect family man—only to discover he was secretly betraying her. When Axel freezes her accounts, brands her mentally incompetent, and tries to have her imprisoned, she realizes their marriage was never love. But his greatest mistake was underestimating the genius behind his empire. Now she’s joining his biggest rival—and coming for everything.
Ayla sat on the edge of the custom Italian leather sofa in the master bedroom of the Farrell estate. The glow of her laptop screen illuminated her face in the dim room as she scrolled through the PR itinerary for the Farrell Group’s upcoming week, double-checking every interview slot and press release. Outside the heavy…
Jared walked directly to Ayla and placed a large, iconic orange box on the table in front of her plate. Axel leaned back in his chair, a smug, triumphant smile spreading across his face – though it never quite reached his eyes, which remained fixed on her, searching. “Open it. A peace offering.” Ayla stared…
She slipped through the crowd, staying completely out of sight, and followed him through the noisy, chaotic kitchen hallways until she reached the dimly lit VIP lounge sector. At the end of the corridor, one of the heavy lounge doors stood slightly ajar. Low, breathy laughter drifted through the gap. Ayla slowed her steps. She…
“That absolute sociopath!” Chloe screamed, hurling a velvet throw pillow across the room. She grabbed a first-aid kit and gently pressed an ice pack against the massive purple bruise spreading across Ayla’s lower back. Ayla didn’t wince. She opened her laptop on the coffee table. “I need to move my money,” she said, her voice…
Ayla’s breath hitched. The man from the shadows was suddenly standing directly beside her. He had moved with the terrifying, silent grace of an apex predator. “Put it on my tab,” a voice rumbled – deep, gravelly, and laced with absolute authority. Ayla spun around, muscles tensing defensively. “I don’t need your charity. What do…
Staring at it, a violent flashback hit her like a physical blow. Five years ago. A torrential rainstorm. The grand foyer of the Joyce family’s Upper East Side mansion. Her wrist had looked exactly like this. Richard Joyce, the family patriarch, had thrown a thick DNA report directly into Ayla’s face. The sharp edge of…
The line went dead silent. She had hit the nerve. Ayla didn’t wait for him to recover. She ended the call. She looked up at Chloe. “We can’t fight this in court. He owns the board.” “Then what do we do?” Chloe asked, her voice tight with panic. “We destroy his credibility,” Ayla said, opening…
“Mr. Farrell sent this as a compensation package,” he said, raising his voice over the rain. Ayla didn’t reach for it. She looked down at the open box. Resting on the black velvet was an American Express Centurion Black Card – no credit limit. “Mr. Farrell’s conditions are simple,” Jared said quickly. “You log back…
Sitting perfectly spaced on the velvet were over a dozen Hermes bags – Himalayan crocodiles, limited edition Kellys, rare Constance bags. Millions of dollars in leather and hardware, bought to make her look like the perfect trophy wife. Ayla walked to the utility room, grabbed three massive heavy-duty black trash bags, and returned to the…
Ayla drove the Ford Explorer through the chaotic, horn-blaring traffic of Midtown Manhattan. The dark grey clouds finally broke, unleashing a freezing, relentless winter rain. Water pounded against the windshield, blurring the neon lights of Fifth Avenue into smeared streaks of color. Ayla kept one eye on the road and one on the GPS on…