All Chapters of The Wife Who Won : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Chapter 21: Violettta The rain has been relentless since yesterday noon, a steady, gray sheet that hasn't stopped bleeding over the Seattle skyline or washing the color out of the streets. It tapers off into a thick, low-hanging mist by the time noon rolls around, leaving the Seattle streets slick and smelling of wet asphalt. After spending four straight hours buried in the legacy files at my desk, the air inside the department feels entirely stagnant. My eyes ache from staring at the fluorescent monitor, and the hyper-polite, terrified glances from the junior analysts are beginning to make me feel claustrophobic. Every time I get up to grab a glass of water, the room goes completely quiet.I need air. I grab my trench coat from the back of my chair and head down the elevator, needing fifteen minutes of anonymity away from the glass tower of Thorne & Associates.There is a small, quiet espresso bar two blocks away, tucked down a narrow brick alleyway that most corporate commuters mis

Chapter 23: Violettta Once home, I drop my bag onto the small console table inside my entryway and kick off my heels. The apartment is dead quiet, the air smelling slightly of old wood and the lavender cleaner I used over the weekend. On the kitchen island, my personal phone sits exactly where I left it—a dark, dead screen. I don't even bother to pick it up. I change into a pair of oversized gray sweatpants and a worn-out cotton t-shirt, tying my hair up into a messy knot. When I look in the bathroom mirror, the faint purple shadows under my eyes look darker than usual, but the anxious flutter that usually lives in the center of my chest is completely gone. Before I can even consider heading down the corridor, I step into the living room and find Liz completely passed out on my small fabric sofa. She’s still wearing her oversized flannel shirt, curled into a tight ball under the wool throw blanket we dragged out of the closet last night. Her laptop is precariously balanced on the cu

Chapter 25: Violetta The glass door to the fifth-floor compliance wing clicks shut behind me, shutting out the dull roar of the morning transit lines.I take a slow breath, adjusting the strap of my laptop bag over my shoulder. I walk past the row of standard, low-walled cubicles toward the corner office. My name is already printed on a small, slip-in plastic card next to the doorframe: Violetta, Senior Compliance Analyst."Well, look who finally decided to join the living."I stop, turning toward the breakroom entrance. Seraphina is leaning against the doorframe, a sleek ceramic mug held between her manicured fingers. She is wearing a cream-colored blazer that looks pristine even for eight in the morning, her posture relaxed, a smooth, welcoming smile resting on her face.The smile doesn't reach her eyes, but the usual icy venom that populates her voice is completely gone."Good morning, Seraphina," I say, keeping my tone polite but measured. We have competed for account allocations

Chapter 27: MarkThe crystal decanter clicks against the rim of my glass, the amber liquid swirling as I pour a double measure of scotch. I don't bother adding ice. The low, rhythmic humming of the office air conditioner is the only sound in the room, a sterile contrast to the chaotic noise spinning inside my head since this morning.I walk over to the floor-to-ceiling glass panel, looking down at the crawling lines of yellow cabs and luxury sedans navigating the damp asphalt of the financial district. Forty floors down, people are rushing home to their small, ordinary lives. They operate within boundaries. They follow the rules.Violetta used to be one of them. Now, she is an anomaly I cannot calculate.My personal cell phone rings on the leather blotter behind me. It isn't Gideon’s programmed ringtone. It’s the direct line I established for Seraphina’s department. I let it ring three times, letting the tension build, before I step over, pick it up, and press it to my ear without say

Chapter 29: ViolettaThe heavy oak door to Caleb’s loft clicks shut, immediately cutting off the quiet hum of the building corridor.I step into the main living space, my laptop bag heavy against my hip. The apartment is arranged with a stark, functional simplicity that reflects Caleb's personality—dark metal fixtures, a low-slung leather sofa, and a massive kitchen island."Make yourself comfortable," Caleb says, unlooping a thick white gym towel from around his neck. "Give me five minutes to wash up, and I'll get dinner started.""Take your time," I reply, sliding onto one of the industrial iron barstools at the counter.I place my bag on the floor and rest my palms flat against the cool concrete surface. I close my eyes, letting the silence of the room wash over the residual adrenaline still humming in my veins. My mind keeps drifting back to the venom in Seraphina's eyes when Elias revoked her administrative access. It was a necessary defense of my career, but the underlying tensi