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Prologue
While the keynote speaker for the Beautiful Women Taking Charge event droned on, Everly Briggs contemplated Zoe Crosby and recognized the former Charleston, South Carolina trophy wife was the weak link in her plan.
Before the networking function Everly had researched the attendees and settled on two women recently wronged by the men in their lives. Over cocktails, Everly had chatted up both women, sharing her own tale of how her sister had been wronged by wealthy entrepreneur Ryan Dailey. In addition to Zoe Crosby, she’d encouraged London McCaffrey to pour out her heartbreak after Linc Thurston broke off their engagement.
“We’ve each been the victim of a wealthy, powerful man,” Everly said, thinking that was most true of Zoe. Her ex-husband had hired Charleston’s most ruthless divorce attorney and rumor had it that Zoe’s settlement was going to be eaten up by her lawyer’s fees. “Don’t you think it’s time we get a little payback?”
“Anything we try would only end up making things worse for us,” Zoe said, her hesitation grating on Everly’s nerves.
Up until this moment, Zoe Crosby had been listening and nodding sympathetically. Before meeting her, Everly figured if anyone would want to take down a powerful man it would be a wife who’d been cheated on by one, then cast aside and forced to defend her honor in divorce court.
Instead, Everly was starting to understand why Tristan Crosby had treated his wife with such disdain. The woman was too soft, too passive. She lacked fire and purpose. Well, Everly would just have to stir up the socialite’s indignation over how she’d been treated and drive Zoe into the revenge scheme.
“Not if we go after each other’s men,” Everly explained, gratified to see London McCaffrey nodding in understanding. Zoe still looked worried, so Everly continued to lay out her plan. “Think about it,” she said, fighting to keep impatience out of her voice. “We’re strangers at a cocktail party. Who would ever connect us? I go after Linc. London goes after Tristan and, Zoe, you go after Ryan.”
“When you say ‘go after,’” Zoe said cautiously, “what do you have in mind?”
Everly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. From the first she’d suspected Zoe would be too timid to make a good revenge partner, but at least the socialite could be manipulated into doing as Everly wanted.
“In Ryan’s case, his sister is running for state senate,” Everly said, deciding she’d better monitor Zoe’s part of the plan to make sure Ryan Dailey paid dearly for putting her sister in jail.
After all, he was responsible for breaking Kelly’s heart and driving her to act out against his firm by deleting millions of dollars worth of engineering drawings. If he hadn’t led her sister on, Everly was convinced Kelly never would’ve snapped like that.
Zoe’s frown deepened at Everly’s suggestion that she go after Ryan indirectly. “I thought we were supposed to be going after the men. I don’t feel comfortable.”
“Since Ryan destroyed my sister’s life,” Everly explained with elaborate patience even as her irritation reached a boiling point, “it only seems fair that we ruin his sister’s chances at being elected.” Her pause was too brief to give Zoe a chance to argue further. “Getting at Ryan through his sister is the best way to go. Okay?”
Zoe’s abbreviated nod didn’t fill Everly with confidence. Well, if the socialite couldn’t do what needed to be done, Everly would just have to take care of things herself.
One
Fingers biting into the armrest of the hair salon’s cheap vinyl chair, Zoe Crosby—Alston, she reminded herself yet again—stared at her reflection. As of today it was official. Forevermore she would check the divorced box on every survey form or application that asked her marital status. Even though for the last year she’d told herself it wasn’t her fault, the shame of failure sent heat rushing over her skin, leaving her feeling sweaty and miserable.
“Are you sure about this?” the stylist asked, her face screwed into doubtful lines. Penny raked her fingers through Zoe’s long, silky hair. “Your hair is so gorgeous. The caramel color with the paler blond streaks. Are you sure you don’t want me to take an inch off and call it good?”
Zoe set her jaw and shook her head. “No. I want you to shave it all off.”
The stylist looked even more pained, if that was possible. “It’s none of my business, and you are beautiful enough to wear your hair whatever length you want, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t talk you out of doing something that radical.”
Tristan had been very particular about her hair. He’d wanted it to end exactly at her nipples, deeming it the perfect length. She was not allowed to have bangs or layers. Just a silky, straight curtain with blunt ends. She hadn’t been allowed to curl it or to put it up when he’d been around. It was just one of the many ways he’d controlled her.
Zoe sighed, her courage deflating. She’d marched into the hair salon after deciding to shave her head as a middle finger salute to her ex. Tristan couldn’t control her anymore and that was empowering, but maybe getting rid of all her hair was a bit extreme. Still, she needed to do something to mark the day that she was utterly and joyfully free of Tristan Crosby. Her gaze swept the photos of women modeling various haircuts lining the walls, snagging on one in particular.
“What about that?” She pointed to a brunette sporting a short, spiky cut. “Only I’d like to go platinum blond.”
The stylist looked relieved. “With your bone structure, that look would be fantastic on you.”
“Do it.”
An hour and a half later Zoe regarded her reflection and didn’t recognize herself. Gone was the traditional wife of a successful Charleston businessman with her sweater sets and pretty floral dresses. In her place was an edgy replacement in a graphic T-shirt and torn black jeans. Zoe shivered as she raked her fingers through her new do.
Tristan would hate her dramatic transformation.
But then dismay flooded her. When would she stop running all her decisions through the filter of pleasing her ex-husband? All the more reason to make the change. She needed to think about what made her happy.
Plus, she had another reason for altering her appearance.
With step one of her transformation complete, Zoe exited the salon and popped into a drugstore to purchase lipstick and an eye shadow kit in smoky shades that Tristan Crosby’s ex-wife would never have been allowed to wear. In the parking lot, she sat in her car and applied the makeup.
Drawing confidence from her new look, Zoe put her car in gear and headed to the campaign headquarters for Susannah Dailey-Kirby’s state senate race. She intended to volunteer for the campaign, making herself indispensable and gathering as much dirt as she could to take down Ryan Dailey’s twin.
Everly had suggested the strategy to get back at him for Everly’s sister, Kelly.
At the time Zoe had been happy for the input. She’d had absolutely no idea how one went about seeking revenge. Her time married to Tristan had been all about surviving his psychological battery, leaving her little energy for schemes or the gumption to carry them out.
Yet that wasn’t completely true. As a safety net, she’d managed to siphon off tens of thousands of dollars from her allowance during her marriage. Having grown up not exactly poor but with a family that lived paycheck to paycheck, she’d liked the idea of financial independence that ready access to the secret stash offered her.
She should have realized Tristan would view any attempt at self-sufficiency as a threat to his power. When he’d found out, he’d reclaimed her stash and monitored her spending more closely. But instead of intimidating her, his actions had made her more determined, and less trusting of her so-called friends and allies.
The crushing loneliness of being married to Tristan was almost as bad as the emotional and psychological abuse he’d heaped on her. Maybe she shouldn’t have let Tristan convince her to quit college after her junior year. But she’d chosen to plan an elaborate wedding instead of finishing her degree. Floating down the aisle mere months before her twenty-first birthday, she’d actually believed the rest of her life would be like a fairy tale. And in some ways it had. Only she hadn’t been the lucky princess rescued by Prince Charming. Tristan had turned out to be more like the evil king who overtaxed the peasants and punished his subjects whenever the mood struck him.
