Lethal Obsession: The Trophy Wife's Revenge

"You bastard! I stuck by you since I turned eighteen!" I screamed, my chest heaving. Ten years with Zane. Ten years of ripping each other apart every single day.

The second the words left my mouth, his patience shattered. His voice cut back, hollow and sharp. "Oh, please. Stop playing the victim.

You chained yourself to me at eighteen." The words punched the air straight out of my lungs. Dead silence choked the room.

Chapter 1 Zane remained the only person who ever gave a damn about me. I didn’t have a real home. My parents signed the divorce papers when I turned ten.

They never bothered to ask who I wanted to live with, because neither of them wanted me. My mom took me first.

She screamed at me daily, calling me dead weight and a lazy, greedy little stray. Eventually, I just couldn't take living with her anymore. I ran.

I caught a Greyhound bus to the city and tracked down my dad. For a split second, he actually seemed to care, but he already had a new wife and practically lived at work.

My stepmom made sure I paid for my existence. She twisted the thin skin on my arms, bruised my thighs, and beat me with the hard heel of her shoe.

I sobbed to my dad, begging for him to intervene. He casually brushed it off. "She just gets stressed out. If you actually behaved, she wouldn't get so mad." My chest caved in.

The ground tilted beneath my feet. I wanted to run again. But where? So I climbed up to the ledge of our apartment roof.

I stared down at the jagged concrete, letting the bitter wind whip my face.

An unmarried aunt eventually took me in, though she didn't exactly do it out of the goodness of her heart. She just wanted to siphon the monthly child support checks from my dad.

But she didn't hit me, and she didn't scream. And that felt like enough. I coasted through high school as a ghost.

I sat at my desk, tuning out the lectures and losing myself in paperback romance novels. I collided with Zane the year I turned eighteen.

The school district started demolishing the old science wing to build a new one.

I marched toward the cafeteria for lunch, keeping my eyes glued to the floor, and slammed hard into a solid chest. Eighteenyearold me staring up at twentyyearold Zane.

Back then, he operated as a gritty, young crew boss for the construction company. He towered over me.

His features struck a rugged, harsh balance, emphasized by dark ink creeping up his neck. He carried the dangerous, rough scent of the real world.

He arched an eyebrow and smirked. "Slow down." I instantly hated him. I scowled, muttered a flat "Oh," and brushed past him. I still had some pride back then.

I was terrible at studying, but at least I was pretty. And pretty privilege paid out in dividends. Over a dozen guys hovered around me.

They constantly bought me boba and snacks, trading their cheap affection for a fraction of my attention. I soaked it up.

I drank their free drinks and ate their food without a single ounce of guilt. The other girls in my class despised me.

The feeling remained mutual, and we stayed out of each other's way. Until the transfer student arrived. Vivienne.

She gave up a full ride at a prestigious prep school just to transfer to our grimy public school. She held the number one academic ranking in the state.

Penniless, beautiful, and brilliant. She drifted into our grimy little world like a pristine swan. The moment she walked in, she shattered the hierarchy.

The line of guys desperate for her attention stretched out the door. Suddenly, the guys buying me drinks bought them for her. I glared at the mountain of drinks piled on her desk.

My chest tightened. It felt like she stole something that belonged to me. At first, the shift just annoyed me. Then, the jealousy started burning a toxic hole in my stomach.

I watched her sweep the unopened drinks right into the trash can. "Stop playing hard to get," I snapped. "You're so fake." Vivienne paused, turning her head to meet my eyes.

Something shifted in her gaze. Pity? Amusement? "You like this stuff?" she asked, her tone deadpan. "Just take it next time." My jaw locked.

I braced myself for a screaming match, keeping my insults loaded in my throat. But her total indifference knocked the wind out of me.

To her, the attention I craved equaled nothing but garbage she couldn't wait to discard. I didn't want Vivienne's trash. But a massive new problem was about to crash right into me.

Chapter 2 My aunt had already washed her hands of me. The second I turned eighteen, my dad cut off the child support checks because he had a brand new son to fund now.

As for my mom? She vanished off the map. Rumors around the neighborhood said she fled to Los Angeles. But L.A. felt too far, too massive, so I gave up on tracking her down.

With both parents out of the picture, reality finally set in. I had zero cash. No money for rent, no money for tuition, not even enough to buy a goddamn meal to survive.

For months, I shamelessly survived by letting those pathetic fanboys buy my dinners. I lived on their Venmo drops and letting them buy my time just to stay afloat.

If I copied Vivienne and threw all that away, how the hell was I supposed to stay alive? I was at a complete loss. Then, walking home from school, I stumbled onto a scene.

Vivienne, standing in a dim alleyway with a guy. The guy had a cigarette clamped between his teeth, lazily thumbing through a thick wad of cash. Vivienne lunged.

She grabbed his jacket and slapped him hard across the face. "Didn't I already get the money back?

Why the hell are you still fighting in underground rings?" The guy didn't even flinch. He just laughed. "Viv.

I might be a screwup, but I'm not taking money that cost you your future. You threw away your early admission to Harvard just to stay in this deadend town with me.

If I took that cash, it would eat me alive." Vivienne's voice broke. She stared up at him, tears welling in her eyes. "Zane, do you even love me?

Didn't you swear we were going to be together forever? And now you're pulling this?" "This is who I am, Viv. Forever isn't in the cards for me." "What if I drop out right now?

I'll go wherever you go." "Stop talking crazy. You drop out, and that's on me. I'd owe you way too much. I'd never be able to look you in the eye again." Smack.

Her palm cracked against his jaw a second time. "You bastard! We promised we'd do this together!

Who gave you the right to sink like this?" Vivienne spun on her heel and stormed out of the alley. Dusk settled over the concrete.

The cherry of Zane's cigarette flared bright orange in the creeping shadows. Sensing eyes on him, he slowly turned his head. His gaze locked onto me, halfhidden in the gloom. "Oh.

It's you." He kept that smile on his face, but his voice carried a hint of ruthlessness. "Keep your mouth shut at school.

If I hear one bad word about Vivienne, I will end you." The threat didn't even make my pulse spike. "If you want her to move on," I said, my voice eerily calm, "do you need a girlfriend to make it convincing?" He crushed the cigarette under his steeltoed boot, his eyes narrowing into dark slits.

Zane started taking me out to eat, putting us right on display. Vivienne marched past our table, grabbed my cheap boba, and hurled it directly into Zane's face.

Zane took me to the movies, and Vivienne somehow bumped into us again. She snatched my massive bucket of popcorn and dumped the whole thing over his head. Zane didn't even blink.

He plucked a buttered kernel out of his hair and popped it into his mouth. "Damn. No wonder they charge fifteen bucks for this.

Not bad." He dragged me to the local carnival, and word got back to Vivienne. The second I spotted her stomping toward us, I backed up ten feet.

I clutched my funnel cake to my chest, refusing to become collateral damage again. But Vivienne didn't throw anything this time. She didn't even glance in my direction.

She marched right up to Zane and slapped him. She pointed a shaking finger at me. "Zane. I'm warning you for the last time. Dump her." "No." "Zane!" "Vivienne, I told you.

We are done." His voice carried zero warmth. "Besides, I never actually liked you. Look at her. I have a girlfriend now.

Just back the hell off, okay?" In that split second, Vivienne shattered. Tears spilled over her lashes as she raised her hand, striking his face one last, desperate time.

Chapter 3 I silently took another step back. If she was hitting him, she couldn't hit me. Vivienne didn't even glance in my direction. From start to finish, I didn't exist to her.

I wasn't even worth the energy of being considered a rival. Looking back, Vivienne and I operated on entirely different frequencies.

She chased love, and she didn't care about the logistics. I was selfish, and I never gave a damn about romance. Why did I pick Zane?

Because out of everyone in our orbit, Vivienne only wanted him. That made him the ultimate prize. And he delivered. Zane wasn't just capable; he handled everything.

Some days, he almost convinced me he actually loved me. I never met his mother. It wasn't because I thought she would intimidate me.

I just knew, deep down, I didn't deserve to sit at her table. Besides that boundary, Zane gave me everything.

He took brutal beatings in underground fight clubs just to pay my community college tuition. He kept a roof over my head and food on the table.

Every spare dollar he scraped together went straight into my hands. The year I turned twenty, Zane's mother passed away. He buried her himself.

I didn't know a single thing about it until the dirt settled. He walked through the front door that night carrying a quiet heaviness.

He held me, burying his face against my chest for a long time. He stayed anchored there for hours. He might have cried, or he might have just been completely hollowed out.

By then, Vivienne had already left for a prestigious university in Boston. I became the only thing left in Zane's world. In our deadend town, he ran on a ruthless schedule.

Clocking in. Clocking out. Hustling for contracts and coming straight home. He turned that cheap apartment into a sanctuary.

Whenever he wasn't out of state on a job, he cooked my dinners. On the days I had classes, he parked his truck outside the campus to pick me up. Zane wasn't just ruggedly handsome.

The fact that he already ran his own small contracting business at his age made him the ultimate catch in our deadend town.

The girls at school constantly told me I hit the jackpot, and their envy fed my toxic vanity perfectly. Better yet, Zane fixed everything.

When I was nineteen and rearended someone's BMW with my electric scooter, I panicked.

Zane drove three hours back from a neighboring town in the dead of night just to handle the cops and the insurance. When I hit twenty, I needed emergency gastrointestinal surgery.

The sterile smell of the hospital and the blinding fluorescent lights sent my anxiety into overdrive. I couldn't stop sobbing.

Zane sat by my bed, his calloused hand anchoring my shaking shoulder. "Breathe," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "It's just a minor procedure. You're okay.

Stop crying." His comfort only ripped the dam wide open. "Am I going to die?" I wailed, clutching his shirt.

He exhaled a long, steadying breath and brushed the damp hair off my forehead. "Don't be stupid.

You're too young to check out." "If I die, are you going to marry someone else?" The sheer absurdity of my question caught him off guard.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, but he kept his tone gentle. "No. I'm only marrying you." I genuinely liked Zane.

You can't help but fall for a guy who throws his money, his time, and his total devotion at your feet. In my world, he remained the best thing I had ever touched.

He demanded zero from me. I didn't cook. I didn't wash a single dish. I didn't work. I didn't touch the laundry.

Once I finished school, I slipped right into the role of a stayathome girlfriend. Zane didn't care. He officially registered his construction firm.

Once the cash flow stabilized, he started dropping three grand a month into my checking account. He funded my acrylics, my Sephora hauls, and my entire wardrobe.

Eventually, he saved enough to close on a condo downtown. I packed up and moved into the city.

I kept up my daily routine of manicures, shopping, and posting pretty pictures on Instagram. Chapter 4 Boredom constantly suffocated me.

I started filming my daily routine with Zane and dumping the clips onto TikTok. I flaunted the penthouse he bought. The Mercedes he drove.

The endless stacks of cash he dropped in my lap. I showed off my fivethousanddollar mink coat and my tenthousanddollar designer bags.

The comment section worshipped me, and my vanity gorged on the validation. But the algorithm pushed my videos wider, and the hate inevitably flooded in.

Trolls branded me a gold digger. A pathetic, useless trophy wife. They clogged my DMs, screaming at me to get a real job because men always walk away. I swiped past their comments.

Pure jealousy. They just hated that I secured a rich man and a flawless life.

I kept swiping his black card, sleeping in his bed, and eating the meals he cooked after his brutal twelvehour shifts.

Occasionally, a fleeting thought whispered that I should probably do something with my life. I always shoved it down. Why bother? I had Zane.

The first time I actually had that thought was the year I turned twentyfive.

I planted my feet in the VIP lounge of a Cartier boutique, fiercely screaming at a ridiculously wealthy woman named Victoria.

She lost the screaming match, her chest heaving with rage. She snapped her phone shut and waited.

Zane stormed through the glass doors twenty minutes later, a dark storm brewing in his eyes. He locked his gaze on me, his jaw clenching. "Jade.

Apologize to Victoria." A dead, absolute silence gripped the room. Zane never raised his voice at me. Not once.

A brutal, hot sting flooded the back of my eyes. "But she started it, Zane!" I choked out, my eyes instantly burning. "She stole the custom piece I waited months for!" Zane ignored me.

He reached over, snatched the velvet box from the counter, and handed it directly to Victoria. He stood dead center in front of me, bowing his head to her. "I apologize.

Jade doesn't understand how the real world works." Victoria stared down her nose at me. Her sheer contempt hit me hard.

It perfectly mirrored the dead, hollow disgust my stepmom used to weaponize against me. Pure panic kicked in, and I lunged forward to snatch the jewelry back.

Zane caught my wrist to stop me. Years of total indulgence broke my filter. Tears spilled hot and fast down my cheeks. "Zane! Why aren't you defending me?" He was sick of it.

Sick of my stupidity, sick of my ignorance, and completely sick of my bottomless obsession with spending his money.

He clamped his hand around my elbow and hauled me out of the boutique. He pinned me against the passenger door of his GWagon, trapping me in his shadow.

He leaned in, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper. "Victoria's husband controls my biggest supply contracts.

Start acting like an adult and back the fuck down." I refused to listen. I tore my arm free and slapped him. Hard. The sharp crack echoed across the concrete parking lot.

A terrifying darkness swallowed Zane's features. "You dare hit me?" "So what?" I screamed until my throat was completely raw. "Vivienne hit you a million times!

Why can't I do it once?" A bitter, twisted laugh ripped from his chest. "You think you even belong in the same sentence as Vivienne?" The insult physically crushed my ribs. "What the hell does that mean, Zane?

Are you still obsessed with her? She considers you trash! I am your girlfriend!" My words failed to draw blood.

Instead, they ripped away the polite, fragile masks we wore for years, and the gloves finally came off. "Girlfriend?" Zane scoffed, looking at me with mockery. "You think you deserve that title?

Vivienne doesn't want me, and I sure as hell don't want you. Tell me, Jade. Name one single thing about you worth loving." All the fight drained out of me.

I was so stunned I even forgot to cry.

I stared at him, my brain scrambling for a lifeline. "I'm pretty," I whispered. "Pretty?" He stepped back, looking at me like I turned his stomach. "The city crawls with pretty girls.

Bottle girls at the club. Influencers on my payroll.

Every single one of them outshines you." He leaned back in, his upper lip curling into a cruel sneer. "They run a decade younger.

Women line up around the block to climb into my bed. Do you honestly think I need you?" Chapter 5 The air punched out of my lungs. Right. I forgot.

Love never lived in this relationship. I sat frozen against his car.

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over my head, leaving me both wide awake and completely lost. I retracted my claws. A pathetic, wet sniffle wrecked my throat.

Zane's hard edges fractured just a fraction, and he hooked an arm around my waist, pulling me against his side. "Enough. Play nice, okay? Her husband holds my contracts.

Let her have the jewelry. I'll take you out this weekend and buy you something twice as expensive. Deal?" Acid burned the back of my nose.

I nodded, burying my face against his chest, dropping my voice into a desperate whine. "You can't yell at me, Zane. I gave you eight years.

You remain the only family I have left." The rigid tension drained from his shoulders. "I know." People operate exactly like that.

As long as the screaming stops, everything magically fixes itself. We shove the rotting problems under the rug and pretend they never happened.

His cruel words from the parking lot played on a loop in my head. Women line up around the block to climb into my bed. I only had him. He provided the cash, and he fixed the messes.

But flawless girls swarmed his orbit. Girls who lacked my toxic baggage and carried fresh faces. A sudden wave of insecurity hit me.

Every woman in this city suddenly morphed into a massive red flag, plotting to steal my life. I ambushed his corporate office repeatedly.

I glared daggers at every female employee in his vicinity. I bypassed HR and fired his executive assistant. I threw a massive tantrum until they replaced the receptionist.

Zane rubbed his temples, refusing to entertain another screaming match. He just waved a hand at the HR director. "Let them go.

Double their severance packages." He started clocking out earlier to keep my psychotic breakdowns at bay. He filled our weekends with expensive dates. I recognized the tactic.

He wanted to medicate my anxiety. But his perfect behavior only made me more afraid. Panic squeezed my lungs.

He treated me like a queen today, but the second he stopped caring, he could walk away without a backward glance. What then? He owed me absolutely nothing.

What the hell did I possess to make him stay? I cornered him in the kitchen one night. "Let's get married.

Let's have a baby." He shook his head, instantly shutting it down. "Timing sucks. I work too much, and you'd ruin a kid." I shrieked back at him. "You don't trust me?

I'd be the mother! How could I ruin my own baby?" His tone dripped with pure condescension. "You can't even boil pasta, Jade. When I leave the state, you survive on DoorDash.

What happens to a toddler?

Are you going to feed a baby UberEats every day?" The reality check choked me. "I can hire a nanny!" "I barely trust myself with a kid, and you expect me to hand one over to a stranger?

Wake the hell up. Besides, you know how much I despise random people in my house." His cold logic just fueled my rage. "You shoot down every single option!

You just refuse to lock this down! You still obsess over Vivienne! You just keep that space open, waiting for her to come crawling back!" "Yeah. Vivienne exists.

You knew that from day one." His voice dropped into a dangerously quiet octave. "We grew up together. We share actual history.

Do you even comprehend what that means?" "No!" I screamed, hot tears scalding my cheeks. "I don't!

I never even had a goddamn home!" He clenched his jaw, swallowing his lethal comeback. A heavy, exhausted sigh left his lips. "Forget it. I refuse to do this tonight.

I'll start dinner." I stubbornly dug my heels in, crossing my arms like a petulant child. "I'm not eating." "Then starve." I matched his venom. "You want me dead!

Never going to happen! I'll make your life a living hell until the day you die!" His patience completely snapped.

He abandoned the kitchen, clamped an unlit Marlboro between his teeth, and slammed the front door behind him. The silence in the penthouse crushed my chest.

A raw, gaping ache swallowed me whole. Chapter 6 The screaming match spiraled. I cornered him, demanding a diamond ring, and he shut it down. "Zane, I gave you a decade!

What the hell do you mean, no?

Are you still keeping a spot open for Vivienne?" "Jade, drop her goddamn name." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Every single fight, you drag Vivienne into this.

I haven't seen her in ten years. Give it a rest." My chest burned. "Then why won't you marry me?" "Stop pushing it." His jaw clenched tight. "You really want the brutal truth?

Because I've already given my heart away. Because I don't love you enough.

You don't deserve a real, functioning marriage." "You owe me!" I shrieked, my throat completely raw. "I've been with you since I turned eighteen!" "Right." His voice dropped, dead and hollow. "Congratulations.

You've been stuck with me since you turned eighteen." The words slammed into me. All my socalled leverage completely vanished.

In that split second, the absolute truth stripped me bare, draining every single ounce of fight left in my body.

I felt like I had been tossed into the deep end of a freezing ocean, completely lost and sinking. I couldn't breathe. I stood paralyzed. Zane fell dead silent.

For the first time in years, my tear ducts stayed bone dry. I stared blankly at the marble island. "Then we need to break up," I whispered.

He lunged, his fingers digging into my forearm. "Are you insane? Where the hell are you going to go? Why can't we just keep doing this? I pay for everything.

You buy whatever you want." I stared at his grip, utterly detached. I slowly shook my head. "I can't, Zane.

If I stay… I'm actually going to lose my mind." His grip slackened, and the fight bled out of his posture. "I'm sorry, Jade.

I didn't mean it." He exhaled a ragged breath. "I think… we need to see a therapist." My childhood abandonment hardwired me for toxic obsession. My relentless insecurity.

My fractured mental state. Zane carried his own wreckage. A shattered family, Vivienne walking away, and a mountain of survivor's guilt he refused to unpack.

We operated as two entirely ruined people clinging to each other in the dark. Zero romance. Just transactional survival.

He exploited my youth, my flawless aesthetic, and my lack of ambition. I milked his bank account and his desperate need to play the hero.

We actually dragged ourselves to couples counseling and drove back to the penthouse in total silence.

Following the therapist's advice, we attempted to cook dinner together peacefully. I glared at the stainless steel pans, annoyance crawling under my skin.

My attitude instantly tripped Zane's temper. "Stop pouting," he snapped, tossing a bulb of garlic onto the counter. "Peel that." I crossed my arms. "I just got my acrylics filled." A dark, exasperated laugh echoed darkly in the room. "Fine.

Wash the lettuce." I grimaced. "The water is freezing." "I'll turn on the hot water, Jade." I let out a heavy sigh. "Fine." He pinched the bridge of his nose, a genuine, defeated chuckle escaping his lips.

He wasn't amused—he just ran completely out of options. He twisted the faucet, letting the warm water run over my hands. I actually washed the produce.

A weird sense of accomplishment settled in my chest. I bombed three interviews before noon.

I finally dragged myself into a local boba shop, where the manager practically sneered at my application.

She tapped her acrylic nail against my blank resume. "Do you actually know how to work?" I gave a stiff nod. "A little." "A little?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "You either know how to run a register or you don't.

What are you, a child?" The insult burned, but I swallowed the venom rising in my throat and kept my mouth shut.

Zane mocked my plan at breakfast, telling me to stop wasting my time because nobody would hire me. I needed this miserable job.

I desperately needed to prove that arrogant bastard wrong. Chapter 7 The boba shop hired me out of pure desperation. My shift started at 1 PM.

I shoved my pride down my throat and tied the cheap polyester apron around my waist. I shook iced teas for eight straight hours in fiveinch stilettos.

I pushed through the glass doors at the end of my shift, and the crisp night air hit my face. A sudden, strange rush of freedom hit me. Freedom. I actually survived a real shift.

A loud horn blasted, shattering my epiphany. Zane leaned on the steering wheel of his GWagon. "What the hell are you staring at the sky for? Get in.

Who the hell gets off work at eight PM? I sat out here for two hours waiting for this garbage job to let you out." I slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door.

I unbuckled the straps of my heels, digging my thumbs into my throbbing arches.

Zane threw the SUV into drive, shooting a cold glance at my feet. "Your ankles are swollen." For once, I didn't snap back. "It's fine.

I'll just soak them in Epsom salts when we get back." His jaw ticked. "Are you out of your mind? Why torture yourself? You're breaking your back for minimum wage.

You blow more cash on a single facial than you make in an entire month." My chest tightened. "You refuse to marry me. I need a backup plan. Everyone else works.

Why can't I?" Just like that, the old argument sparked back to life. Zane gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning stark white. "Jade.

Even if we split, I will write you a massive check.

I guarantee you'll never have to worry about money for the rest of your life." I stayed quiet for a moment, then let out a muffled laugh. "You don't even like me.

Why treat me this well? You're just setting me up to be delusional, and then we'll rip each other apart all over again." Zane swallowed his response.

The fear of triggering another screaming match kept his mouth glued shut. My body eventually adapted to the brutal shifts, and I dragged myself through two full months.

On my birthday, Zane idled outside the shop as usual. He drove us back to the penthouse and actually cooked a massive, elaborate dinner.

I managed three bites before my stomach rebelled against the exhaustion. I pushed the porcelain plate away.

A dark cloud settled over Zane's features. "I spent hours making this." "I know," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Just microwave it tomorrow." He didn't argue.

He just stood up and silently scraped the plates into the trash. The therapy sessions actually forced a ceasefire.

Our explosive fights plummeted, mostly because I stopped lighting the matches. Instead of screaming, Zane swallowed his fury and weaponized his silence. Just like tonight.

He shut me out completely. He didn't speak a single word to me for the rest of the evening. I refused to coddle him.

I never babied his ego in ten years, and I sure as hell wasn't starting now. The cold war dragged into the bedroom.

We shared the same mattress, separated by an invisible, frozen wall. I stared at my Kindle, glaring at the words.

Zane hammered aggressively on his MacBook keyboard, finalizing contracts. Neither of us surrendered.

We clamped our jaws shut, both desperately waiting for the other to break the silence and say, "Let's go to sleep." We stubbornly held out until 1:00 AM.

Zane's phone vibrated against the nightstand. He answered, muttered a harsh curse, and bolted out the front door into the night. The tension immediately evaporated from the room.

With my opponent gone, the bonedeep exhaustion from my shift finally dragged me under.

I slept so hard, practically comatose, that I never even heard the front door click open in the dead of night. Sunlight burned through the curtains.

I dragged myself out of bed, pushed the bedroom door open, and froze. Vivienne