The Perfect Wife

Vivienne woke early, as she always did.

Routine was the only thing that kept her sane.

She ate a small breakfast, something bland and light, then settled into an hour of yoga on the polished hardwood floors of the guest house. The quiet stretch of her muscles, the controlled breathing, it was the only time her mind could be still.

There wasn’t much else to do.

She had lost touch with her old friends long ago. After marrying Wes and moving into his world, any connection to her former life had slipped away like smoke. Wes had made it clear from the beginning that even the suspicion of cheating would bring swift consequences. That was his excuse for keeping her isolated, for giving her no money, no means of escape.

The guest house was essentially a prison, though a very comfortable one.

Her trust fund and shares in her family’s company remained untouched, growing steadily with interest while she lived like a caged bird. If there was a silver lining, it was that one day—if she ever got out—she wouldn’t have to rely on anyone.

But today, she would use some of that money.

She made a quick call to her favorite salon, paying extra for the short notice. She didn’t know exactly what kind of event Wes would be dragging her to tonight, but she knew how Celeste dressed for these things—glamorous, provocative, over-the-top. Vivi had no intention of standing next to Celeste looking like a neglected housewife.

The image Wes projected was carefully constructed. He wasn’t just a husband. He was the supportive husband, the devoted husband, who would never let a sweet, timid friend of his wife be left alone in a scary setting. Especially if she’d had copious amounts of plastic surgery.

Vivi’s role was to play the elegant, polished wife. The one who smoothed over social gatherings, smiled when needed, and blended seamlessly into the backdrop of Wes’s perfect life. A fraying image wouldn’t do.

She handled it all without bothering him, of course.

Vivienne called a cab and headed toward the M Village Mall, located in the wealthiest part of the city. It had once been her favorite place to shop—back when she had been Vivienne Aldridge and her life was a parade of designer labels, charity galas, and high-society events.

That life felt like a different world now.

She had the cab stop a few blocks from the entrance, just to preserve a sliver of pride.

Wes usually dragged her to events where appearance was everything. The people there knew money inside and out. It wouldn’t be enough to pull a dress from her existing collection; she needed something new. Current. Flawless.

And she would need two dresses.

Wes never gave her details about what Celeste would wear, but Vivi had learned her lesson. Showing up in the same color as Celeste gave her a reason to start a scene—a scene Wes would inevitably blame Vivienne for. Now Vivi made sure to have a backup. If she glimpsed Celeste in a similar shade, she could change before they left the guest house and return the unused dress later.

By early evening, she returned home with two dresses—one a deep blue satin, the other a sleek black cocktail dress. Her hair had been professionally tamed into loose waves that framed her face, and her makeup was expertly blended to give her the perfect, polished glow.

She was ready.

Except Wes hadn’t told her what time they were leaving.

Vivi settled onto the sleek gray sofa in the guest house, already dressed in the dark blue satin gown. Her heels were tucked beneath her as she leaned back, flipping through the channels without really seeing them.

Then Knox Maddox filled the screen.

Her breath caught.

He was straddling a speeding motorbike in the rain, shirt half unzipped, gun drawn as he fired at a car swerving ahead of him. His dark hair was soaked, falling across his forehead, and his expression—sharp, focused—radiated danger.

Vivienne’s brows furrowed.

Of course.

Before she could stop herself, she snapped, “I’ll try to warn you tomorrow. I was busy.”

To the screen.

To the phantom of a man who would never know how often he invaded her thoughts.

He had probably forgotten her, long ago.

She clicked the TV off, the room dropping into sudden silence.

Her heart pounded faster than it should have.

Vivienne sighed and leaned her head against the back of the couch. This whole thing was ridiculous. What was she going to do, show up at a coffee shop and warn the most famous man in the world that her husband was planning to blackmail him?

Yeah, that’ll go well.

But the guilt lingered.

At least she wouldn’t have to witness it. He wouldn’t be there tonight. With any luck, she could just leave the hoodie and a note with the barista and avoid him entirely.

Vivi pulled her knees to her chest, smoothing the satin of her gown over her thighs as she stared at the dark screen.

Knox Maddox didn’t need saving.

He was the one who had saved her.

A few hours later, the low hum of an approaching town car vibrated through the glass walls of the guest house.

Vivienne sat up, smoothing down her dress as the dark car rolled to a stop at the entrance. The driver emerged, walking around the car to open the door.

Her cue.

She took a final breath, straightened her spine, and stood.

The perfect wife.