Chapter 1

I married Mark Davis to escape the world I was born into. As the only daughter of a Silicon Valley tech mogul, my life was a planned-out series of corporate mergers and strategic alliances, including my future marriage. I wanted something simple, something real. So I chose Mark, a man from a rural town with a gentle smile and a seemingly devoted heart. For three years, he was the perfect stay-at-home husband. I thought I had found my quiet happiness.

I was wrong.

The doorbell rang, a harsh, demanding sound that shattered the quiet Saturday afternoon. I was in the middle of reviewing a quarterly report for my father' s company, and I felt a flash of annoyance. Mark was out, supposedly running errands in the luxury car I' d bought him for our anniversary.

I opened the massive front door of my villa. Standing on my porch was a middle-aged woman with a stern, pinched face. Her clothes were cheap, but she held her head high as if she owned the place. Behind her stood a gaggle of other women, all staring at my home with wide, greedy eyes. I didn't recognize any of them.

The woman in front looked me up and down, her eyes filled with disapproval.

"You must be Sarah," she said, her voice dripping with condescension.

"I am. Can I help you?"

"I' m Mark' s mother, Brenda. We' ve come to see our son. And to teach you a thing or two about being a proper wife."

She pushed past me without waiting for an invitation, her entourage trailing behind her, chattering excitedly as they gawked at the marble floors and high ceilings.

Brenda stopped in the middle of my living room and turned to face me.

"First things first," she declared, pointing to her dusty shoes. "As my daughter-in-law, you should welcome me by washing my feet. It' s a sign of respect. It' s time you learned how to uphold your husband' s honor."

One of the other women scurried off, returning moments later with a decorative basin from my hallway, which she filled with water from a vase of flowers. She placed it at Brenda' s feet with a thud. The water sloshed onto my expensive Persian rug.

I stared at the basin, then back at her smug face. A cold anger began to build in my chest. I had dealt with arrogant board members and cutthroat competitors my whole life. This was nothing.

"You want me to wash your feet?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm.

"That' s right. A wife should serve her husband' s family. It' s time you learned your place."

I walked over to the basin. For a moment, she looked triumphant, as if she had already won.

Then I drew my foot back and kicked the solid brass basin with all my might.

It went flying, sending water and flower petals splattering across the pristine white couch. The basin clattered loudly against the far wall, leaving a dent in the plaster.

The room fell silent. Brenda' s jaw dropped.

I met her shocked gaze without flinching.

"Let me make something clear," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "In this house, there is no husband' s law. There is only wife' s law. My law."

Brenda' s shock quickly turned to purple-faced rage.

"You little bitch!" she shrieked. "How dare you! You ungrateful, barren whore!"

Her friends gasped, then quickly joined in, their voices a chorus of insults.

"She' s been married to Mark for three years and hasn' t even given him a child!"

"Look at her, acting all high and mighty. She' s nothing without our Mark."

"She should be on her knees thanking God that a man as successful as Mark would even look at her!"

I listened to their accusations, a strange sense of confusion cutting through my anger. Barren? Ungrateful? Successful Mark? What were they talking about? We had mutually agreed to wait on children until my career was more settled. And Mark' s only job was to manage the household staff.

A chilling thought entered my mind.

They didn' t know.

They didn' t know that my husband, their precious son, was a kept man. They didn' t know that he hadn' t earned a single dollar since the day we met. They thought he was the successful one. They thought I was the one who married up.

The whole situation was a farce, a ridiculous, twisted lie built by the man I had given my trust to.