Transformation

ALEXA

After a few hours at the boutique and salon, I barely recognized myself.  

My hair, once dull and lifeless, was now a vibrant shade of red with golden streaks running through the ends. My nails were perfectly polished, my skin glowed, and the red, figure-hugging dress I wore left little room for self-doubt. It clung to my curves, accentuating everything Mark had once ignored.  

I looked good—better than I had in years. But as I stared at my reflection, a strange feeling crept over me.  

Regret.  

Not for leaving him. But for wasting so much time waiting for love that was never meant for me. For hoping, praying, and breaking myself just to earn scraps of affection from a man who never truly saw me.  

That ended today.  

"Well?" Noelle’s voice broke through my thoughts. She stood behind me, arms crossed, watching my reaction closely. "What do you think?"  

I turned to her, a slow smile spreading across my lips.  

"I feel…" I paused, then let out a breath. "Like me."  

Noelle grinned. “Finally.” She tilted her head, eyeing me with approval. “Now, are you ready to party, have fun, and actually celebrate being free from that asshole after all these years?”  

I hesitated. The idea of partying wasn’t exactly appealing. But staying home, wallowing in misery after spending thousands of pounds on this transformation, wasn’t an option either.  

I glanced at my open purse, where receipts from the day peeked out—evidence of the small fortune Noelle and I had spent. At first, guilt had gnawed at me, but then I reminded myself: if I didn’t spend it, Mark would have blown it all on someone like Ivy. A woman who had never sacrificed nearly as much as I had.  

So why not indulge?  

I smiled, just a little. Maybe for the first time, I had made the right decision. And maybe I’d keep making them.  

"Alright," I said, straightening my shoulders. “Let’s go have fun.”  

Noelle beamed, grabbing my hand as we walked out of the boutique. "That’s the spirit!" She smirked as we headed for the car. "I know just the place. The finest men, the best booze—"  

“Men?” I raised an eyebrow as I slid into the passenger seat.  

Noelle turned on the engine and grinned. “Of course, men. What’s a real party without a few gorgeous specimens hanging around?” She shot me a mischievous look. “You’ve been stuck with that bastard for too long. It’s time for a fresh face.”  

I sighed. "Noelle—"  

"Or," she cut me off, her smirk widening, "maybe more than one fresh face. Eight? Nine?"  

“Noelle,” I warned, trying to sound firm, but she was already too far gone.  

“Ten it is!" she declared dramatically, then turned to me with a wicked glint in her eye. “Trust me, Alexa. After tonight, you’ll be thanking me.”  

I hesitated for a second. But really, what reason did I have to say no?  

So, forcing the last remnants of doubt away, I mustered a grin.  

“Alright," I said, my voice lighter than it had been in a long time. "Let’s go party.”

***

MARK

Dancing Devil. A club reserved for the elites. A place where the rich indulged in their vices, drowning themselves in alcohol and luxury. It was the last place I wanted to be tonight, but here I was, sitting in the VIP section with a glass of amber liquor in my hand, staring at my phone like it held the answers to all my problems.  

The music, the chatter, the laughter—it was all background noise. None of it registered. My mind was elsewhere.  

“Wait, for real?” Vector Kinkaid, a longtime friend, broke through my thoughts, his tone laced with disbelief. “Alexa actually asked for a divorce?”  

My grip on my phone tightened. My jaw clenched.  

Vector let out a low whistle. “Damn. She really did.”  

The others at the table exchanged looks before one of them, Barry, chuckled. “That’s impossible. Mark my words, this is just some pathetic act for attention. That woman has been by Mark’s side through everything—even when he was a vegetable. She’ll come crawling back before the night is over.”  

Laughter erupted around the table.  

It grated on my nerves.  

“I agree with Barry,” Mickey added. “Alexa’s obsessed with Mark. No way she’d actually leave him.”  

“Come on, don’t underestimate a woman,” another chimed in. “If she’s willing to play the devoted wife for this long, what’s stopping her from playing the same role for another man?”  

More laughter. More words that dug into my brain like a drill, flipping a switch I hadn’t even realized was there.  

“Once a bitch, always a bitch,” someone else muttered. “She should take notes from Our Eva. Maybe then Mark would actually consider fucking her.”  

That was the last straw.  

“If you’re going to keep running that mouth of yours,” I said, my voice low and cold, “do us all a favor and leave. Spare us the displeasure of hearing you.”  

The table fell silent. Eyes turned to me, some shocked, some wary.  

“Mark—” Vector started, but one glare from me had him shutting his mouth.  

Good.  

With silence settling over the room, I finally had space to think. I turned my attention back to my phone, checking the time. Almost midnight. Still no call. No text.  

Alexa hadn’t reached out.  

Ezekiel had yet to report back.  

The longer the night stretched, the more my irritation festered.  

This wasn’t me. I didn’t let things get to me like this. And yet, Alexa’s childish little game was succeeding—getting under my skin, pushing my patience to the edge.  

Enough.  

I wasn’t going to sit around waiting any longer.  

I pulled up my call list and dialed her number.  

The response I got nearly made me crush the phone in my hand.  

“Your number has been blocked. Please try again later.”  

Blocked?  

She blocked me?  

Calm on the outside, but boiling on the inside, I dialed again.  

“Your number has been—”  

I cut the line. My jaw clenched. The phone slammed against the table with a sharp *thud*, drawing everyone’s attention.  

Vector, sensing the tension, opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a new distraction swept through the room.  

“Whoa, who is she?”  

“Damn, she’s hot.”  

“Is she famous?”  

Murmurs and whispers filled the space. Heads turned. Eyes widened. Even the women in the room looked intrigued.  

But I didn’t care.  

I had no interest in whoever had just walked in. My mind was still consumed by Alexa—by her audacity.  

Vector, however, let out a low whistle. “Talk about a temptress,” he said, tapping my shoulder. “Hey, how about a distraction for the night? That beauty over there looks like a good pick.”  

I was losing patience.  

But then—  

I saw her.  

Red hair. Fiery orange eyes.  

For a split second, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. But no, I had lived with her for five years. Seen her every damn day. I knew every detail of her face, every curve of her body.  

It was her.  

Alexa.  

But she wasn’t the Alexa I remembered. She looked nothing like the woman I had left behind. Gone was the quiet, devoted wife. In her place was a goddess in red, standing tall, confident—unlike the pathetic state I had last seen her in.  

She was beautiful.  

If I were in a weaker state of mind, I might have even admitted her beauty rivaled—  

No. I cut the thought off before it could fully form. Ivy was Ivy. She could never be compared to anyone.  

My phone buzzed. A message from Ezekiel.  

[Sir, I’ve located the Madam. She’s at Dancing Devil and…]  

The pause in the text told me he was hesitating.  

[I checked your card records, Sir. She’s been using it since morning and, just a little while ago, she used it at Dancing Devil to order 10 male bachelors.]  

Everything inside me stilled.  

Ten. Male. Bachelors.  

She has used my card—my money—to buy herself a harem?  

The phone nearly shattered in my grip. My vision darkened.  

She needed to be taught a lesson.  

Without a word, I stood. I didn’t care that I had caught the attention of my friends, or even Vector. My focus was singular.  

Her.  

Pushing through the crowd, I closed the distance between us. The men surrounding her—pathetic creatures drawn to her like flies to a ripe apple—laughed and leaned in, enraptured.  

It was disgusting.  

With a scowl, I reached out and grabbed her wrist.  

She gasped, spinning around, ready to snap at whoever dared to touch her.  

But the moment our eyes met, the words died on her lips.  

She froze.  

I stared.  

And in that second, there was no club, no music, no crowd.  

Just me. And my soon-to-be ex-wife.