The Trophy Wife by Evie Baxter

One

Ilooked up from my breakfast and saw her in the corner of the room, gazing out the window onto a grey, damp day, watching the hordes of commuters rushing about in all directions. Her face was impassive, her breakfast untouched, a mug of coffee cupped in both hands, but she hadn’t taken a sip whilst I watched. She was almost a frozen tableau, lost in her own thoughts.

For all intents and purposes she was perfect. A perfectly symmetrical face which was perfectly – albeit a bit on the heavy side – made up, dark red lips the only colour in the otherwise neutral palette. Dark brown hair sleekly held back in a low bun, not a hair out of place. I had yet to discern what colour her eyes were, but she was the epitome of sleek beauty.

Her slim body was clad in a bias-cut black wrap dress that hinted at cleavage but exposed none and showed only the lower half of her toned legs. She looked professional to the core. Right down to the lethal spiked heels on her otherwise conservative, closed toe pumps.

Too bad no one looking at her would be able to tell what a cold, vindictive bitch she was.

I knew it though. I knew it only too well, having paid witness to just how destructively vengeful she was over the past two days. That woman should come with a warning sign.

Miss Victoria Belmane, as she liked to be known, had systematically destroyed the good name of her ex-husband, Robert Alder. Thoroughly shredded his reputation until she had seen the board of directors of his company remove him from his position as CEO. Furthermore, they went on to initiate legal action against him for misuse of funds. The man would most likely spend the next decade in the courts trying to rescue his professional reputation, that was if he didn’t end up in prison first.

Never in the years I had worked in the city had I seen someone so ruthlessly, and publicly, destroy another person. And through it all that woman hadn’t shown an ounce of emotion. She had provided a meticulously detailed account of Robert Alder’s financial dealings that I couldn’t fathom how she had accessed, but it provided irrefutable proof that her ex-husband was indeed mishandling corporate finances to line his own pockets as well as bribe others.

What I didn’t understand was why she did it. After yesterday’s meeting had adjourned, I had tried to do a little Google sleuthing to find out more about Victoria Belmane, but hit a wall after her marriage had ended five years previously. It was public knowledge that she married Robert when she had just turned twenty and he was fifty-two. For three and a half years Robert had paraded her around town, his trophy bride who had been little more than a child when he met her.

She in turn had played the society wife to perfection. There were endless photos of her attending charity galas, fashion shows, events on the racing calendar. Always impeccably dressed in the latest designer fashions, nails and hair done. Looking very much like a slightly younger version of the woman sitting not far from me at that moment. In every photo back then, like now, she looked cold and emotionless. Not once had her image been captured with a smile upon her face.

But then, five years ago, with little fanfare, Robert and Victoria had filed for divorce. According to the papers filed at the time, it was due to his infidelity. He had made a very generous settlement upon Victoria, by which I mean he gave up a good deal of his wealth without a fight, and she had effectively disappeared.

The woman had enough money to live on comfortably for the remainder of her life. She had benefitted well from being a trophy wife for a relatively short period of time. She wouldn’t have been the first woman to achieve independence via a profitable divorce, nor would she be the last.

But it was strange there was not one press photo of her attending any public events from the day she left Robert going forward. Absolutely nothing. Most divorcées like her remained in the social set and went on to make a further advantageous marriage, or two. Not Victoria Belmane. She disappeared from the public eye, until two days ago when she had shown up for the AGM for Alder’s company, Widebeck PLC, and ripped his reputation to shreds.

The question was why. Because he had cheated on her years ago? Was this a case of there was no wrath like a woman scorned type of thing? Because if it was, then this was one almighty payback. That woman took the whole revenge is best served cold thing to the max. Five years she waited. That’s cold. And calculating. Downright fucking scary.

I wouldn’t want to get on Victoria Belmane’s bad side. Ever. Not that I knew her, or was involved with her in any way, other than we both owned shares in the same company. She had a bigger chunk than me, seeing as she held 12.5% of the shareholdings. I had quietly accrued a 9% slice of the pie and had attended the AGM to find out why dividends were not quite what was expected. I couldn’t put my finger on it but when I read the annual accounts prior to the meeting something had felt off.

Victoria had provided all the answers to that niggling suspicion. Robert Alder was a thieving bastard.

But all that didn’t negate the fact that his ex-wife was the ultimate ice queen. Not even when Robert had reared out of his seat as she had presented her proof of his wrongdoing, and he had bellowed vitriol at her from across the room, his face puce with rage, had she shown a flicker of anything. She didn’t respond with anger, rear back in fear, gloat in victory. Her face had remained a mask the entire time.

Victoria was a mystery and mysteries intrigued me. What had happened between her and Robert that made her exact this revenge? Had his infidelities been thrown in her face? I suspected that there was much more to their story than was available online or apparent at face value. Whatever it was, it had certainly made her vengeful.

So lost in thought was I about the events at the AGM that I almost missed Victoria’s departure from the hotel restaurant. I just caught sight of her heading out into the lobby, impeccable posture and determined stride failing to distract me from the fact that she had a remarkably luscious arse for such a slim build.

She was like a poisonous snake. Beautiful to look at but ready to strike you and fill you with her venom at any given moment. Despite my fascination, it would probably be best if I steered well clear of her.

Still, I had a niggling suspicion that there was so much more to her story.