The Trophy Wife's Ruthless Revenge

Keely sat in the darkest corner of the exclusive Manhattan private club.

She stared out the floor-to-ceiling window. The busy streets below looked like a blur of gray metal and yellow cabs.

Her mind played a cruel trick on her. It replayed the charity gala from last week. Haden had stood in front of the cameras, gently kissing the back of her hand.

A bitter, humorless smile twisted her lips.

She pulled out her burner phone. She dialed the encrypted line of Veronica Cromwell, Manhattan's most ruthless divorce attorney and her closest friend.

The phone rang three times.

"Do you have any idea how stupid opposing counsel is?" Veronica's voice came through, backed by the loud chatter of a courthouse hallway. "The judge is practically asleep."

"I want a divorce." Keely cut her off. Her voice was flat.

The line went dead silent. The background noise seemed to vanish.

"Keely, that's not funny. Haden is a golden retriever in a suit."

Keely did not say a word. She tapped her screen and sent a one-time encrypted link along with a dynamic password. "Destructs in five minutes," she stated simply.

Five seconds passed.

"Holy fucking shit," Veronica hissed.

The sound of a heavy door slamming echoed through the phone. Veronica had moved to a stairwell. "When? Where?"

"Half an hour ago. In our guest room." Keely's tone did not change.

"I am canceling my afternoon. Be at my office in thirty minutes."

Half an hour later, Keely walked into Veronica's soundproof, anti-wiretap office.

She took off her oversized trench coat. Her spine was perfectly straight. The helpless trophy wife persona was completely gone.

Veronica walked straight to the bar cart. She poured two fingers of neat whiskey and held it out.

Keely shook her head. "Club soda. No ice."

"You need to calm your nerves," Veronica said.

"I need my brain to work," Keely replied. "Alcohol makes you sloppy."

Veronica lowered the glass. A flash of respect crossed her eyes. She sat behind her massive oak desk.

Keely plugged her phone into Veronica's isolated computer. She transferred the full video.

Veronica watched the screen. Her jaw clenched tight. Her face turned pale with disgust.

Keely took a slow sip of her club soda. "Pull up the prenup."

"Keely, you know what's in it," Veronica warned.

"I know that if we file for a no-fault divorce, I get a pathetic severance package," Keely said. "I am not leaving with nothing. I want him to bleed."

Veronica opened the archived file. She started scanning the dense legal jargon.

Keely crossed her legs. She rested her hands on her knees. Her eyes locked onto the glowing screen, sharp and hungry like a predator.