Not Your Trophy Wife

Today was Anna Lancaster and Christopher Ashford's seventh wedding anniversary.

He sent a text saying he wouldn't be home for dinner.

Anna stood at the dining table, staring at the spread she'd spent hours preparing, and felt a wild, sudden urge to sweep every dish straight into the trash.

She'd first sensed Christopher pulling away from their marriage six months ago. She'd found a smear of deep red lipstick on the collar of one of his shirts — a shade she never wore. That single mark cracked something open in her, and after that, she couldn't stop noticing things. A new blue tie he never mentioned buying. A changed wallpaper on his phone. Small things, one after another, each one a splinter working deeper under her skin.

When she finally couldn't take it anymore and laid all of it out in front of him, Christopher didn't even flinch.

He accused her of being paranoid. Told her she was neurotic, that she needed to travel more, socialize with other wives, get out of her own head. And for a while, it worked. She turned the suspicion inward and wondered if he was right.

The two of them had been walking on broken glass ever since — argument after argument, the tension between them stretched to the point of snapping.

So Anna had decided that their anniversary would be a reset. She'd cooked everything he loved. She'd put on the lingerie he used to go crazy for. She wanted tonight to be the night they actually talked, really talked — the way they had ten years ago when they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

But Christopher chose not to come home.

She swallowed the ache rising in her throat.

The food was too much for one person. She was boxing it up to bring to the neighbors when her phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number. Two photos attached.

"Ms. Lancaster, a marriage without love is nothing but a grave. Better to let go sooner, don't you think?"

The photos were taken on a luxury cruise ship. A young woman with a bright, pretty smile leaned against Christopher's shoulder, flashing a victory sign at the camera. Every inch of her radiated smug, barely-contained triumph.

Anna's eyes moved to Christopher's face. He was smiling — that soft, indulgent smile, eyes full of warmth.

She knew that smile. He used to look at her that way.

He had chased her loudly, unapologetically, and proposed to her beneath a sky full of fireworks. He had promised he would love only her, always.

And now here was the proof.

He'd been cheating.

Worse, he'd been so sure he'd buried it. So sure he could make her feel like she was the problem.

Anna recognized the girl. Victoria Summers — Christopher's secretary and personal assistant, just back from studying abroad. Young, vivid, effortlessly luminous. Rumor had it they'd grown up together.

Her hands were shaking, but she steadied them. One by one, fighting back nausea, she saved every photo Victoria had sent her in her little act of gloating.

Evidence. Every single one of them, iron-clad evidence.

All the agony and second-guessing drained out of her at once. What was left wasn't grief — it was disgust. Christopher felt dirty to her now, in a way that made her skin crawl.

A man like that? Let Victoria have him. Some people were born to take out other people's trash.

It was nearly midnight when Christopher finally walked through the door. The moment he saw Anna still up, a flicker of guilt crossed his face before he smoothed it away.

"Anna, you're not in bed yet?"

She was sitting on the couch, perfectly calm. "I was waiting for you."

She looked up at him — past the mark on his neck she deliberately didn't acknowledge — and said evenly, "Did you forget you made plans with me tonight?"

From his expression, he clearly had.

"Work has been insane lately. We'll make it up another time—"

Anna smiled. The smile of a patient, devoted wife. "It's fine. Work comes first."

Then she pulled a folder from the coffee table and held it out to him, still smiling. "Oh — these are my credit card statements. Can you sign off on them? There were some new arrivals from Paris I fell in love with, so I went a little overboard. Call it my own anniversary gift to myself, okay?"

"Of course."

Christopher was mildly puzzled — Anna rarely spent like this — but if signing a few receipts could smooth over the fact that he'd blown off their anniversary, it was a small price. He took the folder, scrawled his signature, then pressed his lips to her cheek. "I earn money so you can spend it. Buy whatever you want."

Anna moved away from him without making it obvious.

"Go take a bath. I already drew the water for you."

The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, she walked to the sink and scrubbed her cheek. Over and over.

Because he had kissed Victoria tonight. With those same lips, in that same easy way. The thought turned her stomach.

When she was done, she pulled one sheet from the folder on the table.

Tucked between the credit card statements — mixed in so neatly he hadn't noticed — was a divorce agreement. Clean white paper, black ink.

His signature was right there at the bottom.

Anna let out a slow breath.

She was finally going to be free of him.

One month. Just one month for the paperwork to go through, and it would all be over.

******

The next morning, she arrived early at the coffee shop she'd reserved in advance. Her mother-in-law, Katherine, was already there waiting.

Anna didn't bother with small talk. She set the signed divorce agreement on the table in front of her. "Christopher has already signed. We'll be officially divorced soon."

Katherine Winters picked up the agreement and scanned it, the contempt in her eyes as naked as ever. "I told him when he said he wanted to marry you — a man's infatuation only lasts so long. That he'd throw you away eventually."

"He was out of his mind over you back then, I'll grant you that. But I wasn't wrong, was I?" A thin smile. "How does it feel, going from Mrs. Ashford back to nobody?"

Anna's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. She pressed the bitterness down.

After the Lancaster family went bankrupt, Katherine had never once let her forget where she came from. Christopher had fought for her — cut off his own credit cards, staged a week-long hunger strike — before the Ashfords finally, grudgingly gave their blessing. That was exactly why his betrayal was so unbearable. She had watched him love her with everything he had. She knew what it looked like.

She didn't take Katherine's bait. She simply said, "The settlement I'm asking for is one hundred million dollars. I expect it wired to my account before the divorce is finalized."

The Ashford family had done well for themselves in recent years — the company was valued at several billion. What she was asking for was modest by comparison.

Katherine's expression went cold and sharp. "You think you're worth that?"

Anna's smile didn't waver. She reached into her bag and placed a stack of photos on the table, sliding them across. "These document Christopher's affair. If they were to reach the press, I imagine the timing would be rather inconvenient for the Ashford family."

The top photo was the one Victoria had sent her last night.

Katherine stared at her, the loathing in her eyes undisguised. She'd underestimated this woman. All this time Anna had seemed quiet, almost passive — and then at the moment it counted most, she'd been holding a knife the whole time.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I have nothing left to lose."

Anna cut her off, voice level. "And if it comes to that, I won't be using an amicable divorce agreement anymore. I'll hire the best attorneys I can find and sue. What I walk away with then will be a lot more than one hundred million."

She held Katherine's murderous stare as she picked up her bag and stood.

"I'm sure you'll make the decision I'm expecting," she said, and smiled.