Chapter 2

Overnight, the same people who had praised me were now cursing me out. When I opened my social apps, I was bombarded with nothing but personal attacks that came wave after wave. I couldn't be bothered. I had more than enough money and time to waste. I stretched out by the villa's pool, sipping a glass of '82 Lafite, which I hadn't touched a drop of while trying to get pregnant. Now, I only wanted to make up for every bit of joy I'd denied myself. My best friend, Chloe Morgan, rushed in and threw her arms around me, sobbing. "Alex, did you have a reason for what you did? Did that bastard Ethan do something unforgivable? Tell me, and I'll make him pay." I coolly pushed her away. "No, aside from falling in love with someone else, he treated me pretty well. "I just think a cheating man is like a coin that's fallen into a toilet. You hate to waste it, but picking it up is disgusting. I choose to live hygienically. Is that so wrong?" The air went still. Chloe's eyes went wide, her hand trembling. "Are you out of your mind? That's seven years of your life! How can you talk about it like it's nothing?" I kept my head down, texting a male model to come over at night for some fun. Seven years of love had brought me nothing but betrayal and lies. Now that he'd left with nothing, the money I saved was enough to keep several male models on a retainer. "Don't think I don't know your husband's keeping a mistress," I added without looking up. "You keep swallowing it down day after day. Look at you, you're practically a doormat." I looked at her and clicked my tongue, over and over. "I refuse to live in denial like you do. You're miserable, and you just want to drag me into the same marriage cesspool you're drowning in." Her eyes welled up with furious tears. "Alexis, we've been friends for 15 years, and you dare talk to me like that? Fine. I must've been blind. From now on, we're not friends." Her face was stormy as she slammed the door behind her. I didn't even look at her leave. The eight-pack abs on my phone screen were far more appealing than her tears. The doorbell rang again. Since I'd changed the gate code, Ethan couldn't get in. He stood outside the ornate wrought-iron gate. "Alex, I've come to take you home." Not a single hair on my skin moved at that. "Get lost!" Then, I picked up the intercom. "Tell security to get rid of the madman at the gate. And from now on, keep him 100 yards away from the villa. He's not a part of this household. Why are you letting him in?" The head of security hurried over with his men, but instead of following my order, he started lecturing me. "Ms. Grant, Mr. Blake made a mistake in the heat of the moment. Every couple would have their days, but they'll make up after. Why don't you let it go and go home with him?" I let out a cold, sharp laugh. "You're a security guard, not a marriage counselor. You have one job. If you can't do it properly, I'll make sure you have none." "I just can't stand by and watch your marriage fall apart." His righteous expression actually made me laugh in disbelief. Ethan seized the chance to climb past the gate, jumping down to grab my arm. "Come home with me." I pointed at the villa, which sat on a 32,000-square-foot lot. "This is my home." He froze. "We're married. We have our own home." I cut him off. "In case you forgot, we're divorced, Ethan. You're trespassing on my property." His eyes turned red. "Alex, I just don't understand. Why have you suddenly become like this?" "I don't love you anymore. What other reason could there be? Ethan, how can you be this shameless?" Ethan gritted his teeth before he suddenly hauled me over his shoulder. Then, he said, "Whatever it is, we'll talk at home." As I dangled over him, I addressed the head of security standing nearby. "Are you dead? Your employer's being kidnapped, and you're just standing there?" The head of security turned away, pretending not to hear me. Fortunately, I had come prepared; I pulled a stun baton from my pocket. With a sharp crackle, I drove it hard into Ethan's side. His whole body jerked violently, a scream ripping out of him as he let go of me. I darted back into the house, locked the door, and called the police. "Alex! Open the door!" he shouted from outside. The police arrived quickly. Ethan was arrested for trespassing onto a private residence and attempting abduction. His mind went blank. Even as they cuffed him, he still couldn't seem to believe I'd actually done this to him. The head of security couldn't believe it either. I picked up the phone and called. "Is this the security management? I want to file a complaint. Fire the head of security immediately. Today, I'm going to make sure he learns exactly who signs his paycheck." It was only then that he panicked, stammering apology after apology through the door. I insisted on having him fired anyway. Less than an hour later, the same guy posted online, accusing me of abusing my power, whining about having parents to support and children to feed, and how I'd destroyed his livelihood. My public image tanked further. The insults poured in. If he wanted to keep his job, he should've known when to keep his head down. Nobody asked him to play marriage messiah. I loved it when people couldn't stand me, but they couldn't do anything against me, either. I slipped into a slinky dress and headed straight to the most expensive club in the city, where I could dance, drink until the world spun, and let myself be surrounded by hot male models. But before I could step inside, the reporter blocked my way. "Ms. Grant, is it true that after causing your own child's death, you became infertile. That's why you've grown mentally unstable and sought to take revenge on your husband?" I spread my hand out. "No. I'm perfectly healthy." As I reminisced about the past seven years, I could recall every drop of blood, sweat, and tears I'd shed trying to give Ethan a child. He always claimed it was because he loved me that he wanted a child as the symbol of our love. Now, it all just seemed laughable. I was eager to get inside, but the reporter didn't believe me and kept blocking my way. She was convinced my so-called transformation was out of jealousy that Sabrina was pregnant. My patience ran out. I pulled a stack of intimate photos of me with various male models from my bag and tossed them in her face. When she saw them, her expression twisted instantly. Her eyes on me dripped with disgust and contempt, like I was something filthy. "Disgraceful!" she spat, literally, at my feet before storming off. She had no manners whatsoever, and now I had to change my shoes. I hadn't even finished my first drink before a news alert popped up. It was from that same reporter. She'd been following me all along. "Lust on Full Display! Heiress of the Grant Family Can't Wait to Prowl Nightclubs—Private Life in Shambles!" Under the headline were pictures of me draped over different male models. The internet exploded again. The comments shot past ten thousand in minutes, furious and filthy. I only glanced at it twice. Their insults were painfully unoriginal.