Chapter 1: The Wife He Thought Was Worthless
“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, EMILY! You have exactly five minutes before I throw everything you own onto the street!””
My husband screamed those words while hurling my suitcase down the grand staircase of our Atlanta mansion.
The suitcase struck the marble floor, burst open, and scattered three years of my life across the foyer.
A silk dress landed near his polished Italian shoes. My jewelry box skidded beneath the console table. A framed photograph of our wedding shattered against the wall.
Richard Collins didn't even blink.
He simply adjusted his expensive watch and pointed toward the front door.
“Five minutes,” he repeated.
“Don't make me say it again.””
Behind him stood Vanessa Reed, the woman he'd been sleeping with for the past eight months.
She wore a champagne-colored dress and the diamond necklace Richard had given me on our third wedding anniversary. I recognized every stone. I'd chosen the design myself, and my father had secretly paid for it through a family jeweler.
Vanessa touched the necklace and smiled.
“Richard, darling, are you sure we have to do this right now? The decorators are coming at noon, and I want the foyer cleared before they arrive.””
I stared at her.
“That's my necklace.””
She glanced down at the diamonds as though she'd forgotten she was wearing them.
“Oh, this?”” Vanessa laughed.
“Richard said you wouldn't need it anymore.””
“Take it off.””
Her smile disappeared.
Richard stepped between us.
“Don't you dare speak to her like that.””
I looked at my husband, the man I'd once believed would stand beside me through anything.
“Richard, are you seriously throwing me out so she can move in?””
He gave a short, humorless laugh.
“Finally, something gets through that pretty little head of yours.””
My fingers tightened around the lapels of my coat.
For three years, I'd made excuses for him. When his company struggled, I'd encouraged him. When investors rejected his proposals, I'd stayed awake with him until dawn. When he lost his temper, I'd told myself the pressure was making him someone he wasn't.
I'd even turned down a position at my family's investment firm because Richard insisted he wanted a wife, not a woman who could overshadow him.
And now he was standing in our home, humiliating me in front of his mistress.
“Richard,” I said quietly, “we need to talk. There's something important I haven't told you.””
He checked his watch.
“I'm not interested.””
“Please. Just give me two minutes.””
“Two minutes?”” He stepped closer.
“Emily, I've given you three years. Three years of paying your bills, buying your clothes, putting a roof over your head. What exactly do you think you have left to offer me?””
The words struck harder than his shouting.
I swallowed.
“I was your wife.””
“Past tense.””
Vanessa giggled behind him.
“Baby, don't be cruel. She might start crying.””
Richard reached for my arm.
I flinched before he touched me.
That tiny movement seemed to irritate him more than anything I'd said.
“Get out,” he snapped, gripping my elbow and pushing me toward the door.
“You wanted the comfortable life? Find another man to pay for it.””
I stumbled against the doorframe.
My hand flew instinctively to my stomach.
Beneath my coat, the smallest curve was beginning to show. I was twelve weeks pregnant. That morning, I'd tucked a tiny pair of white baby shoes into my handbag, intending to surprise Richard over dinner.
I'd imagined him dropping his fork, staring at me in disbelief, then pulling me into his arms.
I'd imagined us becoming a family.
Instead, I was trying not to fall on the marble floor.
“Richard, I'm pregnant.””
The words escaped before I could stop them.
For one brief second, his expression changed.
Then Vanessa spoke.
“She probably says that to keep men from leaving.””
Richard's jaw tightened.
“Don't start inventing stories, Emily.””
“I'm not inventing anything. I have a doctor's appointment scheduled for next week. I can show you—”
“I DON'T CARE!””
He yanked the door open.
Cold October air swept into the foyer.
“Your problems are no longer my problems.””
Vanessa walked to the console table, picked up our wedding photograph, and examined it.
“You know what bothers me?”” she said.
“This house has beautiful bones, but everything feels so old-fashioned.””
She looked at the photograph one last time.
Then she dropped it into the trash can.
“Much better.””
I watched the photograph disappear beneath discarded packing paper.
Richard shoved my suitcase outside.
The door slammed behind me.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
I stood barefoot on the cold marble porch, my coat pulled tightly around my body, listening to the muffled sounds of the home I'd helped turn into a place worth living in.
Then Vanessa laughed.
“Can you believe she actually thought she belonged here?””
Richard answered without hesitation.
“She was nothing when I married her. She leaves with nothing.””
Something inside me went very still.
Not because I no longer loved him.
Because I finally understood that the man I'd loved had never bothered to discover who I really was.
I reached into my handbag and pulled out my phone.
For three years, Richard had believed I came from an ordinary middle-class family. I'd told him my father was a retired businessman who enjoyed traveling and gardening. I'd never mentioned the international investment group bearing our family's name.
I had deliberately kept my identity private because I wanted a marriage built on love, not money.
My father had respected that choice.
But there was one thing Richard had never bothered to learn.
The mansion he was so proud of didn't belong to him.
Neither did the financial foundation beneath the company he called his own.
I scrolled to a contact I hadn't called in years.
Dad.
He answered on the second ring.
“Emily?””
His voice softened immediately.
“What happened, sweetheart?””
I looked through the tall windows at Vanessa pulling back the curtains I'd chosen.
Then I looked down at my stomach.
“Dad, Richard threw me out.””
Silence.
“And Dad,” I whispered, my voice breaking, “I'm pregnant.””
I heard a chair scrape across the floor on his end of the line.
When he spoke again, the warmth had vanished from his voice.
“Are you somewhere safe?””
“I'm outside the house.””
“Stay away from the door. Don't argue with him. Don't go back inside.””
“Dad, I don't want a war.””
“You're not starting a war, sweetheart. You're my daughter, and someone has just made a very serious mistake.””
I closed my eyes.
“What are you going to do?””
“I'm sending someone to bring you somewhere warm. Then we'll discuss what happens next.””
The call ended.
I barely had time to sit on my suitcase before the first black SUV turned into the driveway.
Then a second followed.
Then a third.
Richard threw open the front door, his face twisted with anger.
“What the hell is going on?””
A dozen attorneys and financial specialists stepped out of the vehicles, carrying leather briefcases and document folders.
The silver-haired man leading them walked straight toward me.
“Mrs. Collins?”” he asked gently.
“I'm Arthur Bennett, general counsel for the Whitmore family holding company.””
Richard's expression shifted from anger to confusion.
Arthur opened his briefcase.
“We're here to discuss the ownership of this property, Mr. Collins.””
Richard laughed.
“Ownership? I own this house.””
Arthur removed a document and held it up.
“No, sir. You don't.””
And when Richard saw the company name printed across the top, the smile finally vanished from his face.
Because it was the same name he'd spent three years pretending not to need.
Whitmore.
May you like
My family.
And this was only the beginning.
