AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Prologue
Clover
I sink down into the oversized chair in my living room. Stare at my phone in disbelief.
What the actual fuck?
My heart thunders as I press the button to repeat the video. Call me a masochist. Call me an idiot. Call me devastated.
Call me anything you want, but I have to see it again.
Just to be sure.
Yep. It’s my bedroom. Yep. There he is. My husband, Harrison Finklestein splayed naked across the pure-white linens on our three-hundred-thousand-dollar Hästens Grand Vividus custom bed.
His cock is flush against his belly. His black-brown eyes widen as the camera gets nearer. He licks his lips. His thick, black eyebrows furrow. The camera pans down to his hand stroking his erection. Yuck.
When did the dark hair on his fingers get so visibly bushy?
“Stop fucking around, we don’t have much time,” Harrison snarls.
The angle changes abruptly. A shard of glass pierces my heart. There she is. My best friend since I moved to Los Angeles, Solange Brown, who pouts then smiles widely into the lens. Her pearly-white veneers gleam, reminding me of shark teeth. She holds her phone out wide so I get a good view of long, blonde extensions brushing against her perfectly round silicone double Ds. I watch her straddle my husband and impale herself on his bare cock.
Harrison groans, “Shit, Solly. Your pussy is like fuckin’ heaven.”
She giggles.
Then the screen goes black.
I toss my phone on the couch in anger. I want to throw it against the wall and watch it shatter.
I’m not stupid, though. No matter how much this hurts—and it fucking hurts so badly I can barely breathe—I can’t risk losing incriminating evidence. Because I’m divorcing my husband. No question. The ironclad prenup I signed is void if either of us cheats, so…
I stare out the window. Attempt to process. Try to come up with a plan. My brain is so jumbled, I have no idea how much time passes. All I know is at some point, despair takes over.
How could they do this to me? I trusted them both implicitly. Solange and I have been friends for so long. Harrison and I have been married for almost a decade. I’ve never detected an iota of attraction between them.
Or so I thought.
Omigod. I’m going to be sick.
The betrayal is overwhelming.
Tears stream down my face. How could Harrison have been sleeping with my best friend behind my back without me knowing about it? My mind whirls. Trying to figure out if I missed any of the signs.
God. I trusted her with him. Implicitly. I confided so much about our relationship to her.
Now, I feel so fucking stupid. Naïve.
Harrison has always been somewhat controlling. A bit of a pompous ass at times, sure. But in the decade we’ve been together I’ve never known him to be dishonest. The man prides himself on integrity.
Which is rich.
If I’m brutally honest with myself—which is important if I’m going to survive this—our story is a true Hollywood cliché.
By my early twenties, I’d been acting for a while and had some success dabbling in pop music. We met at one of my concerts. He was charming, rich, and fifteen years older than me. I got caught up in a whirlwind romance. Never, in my entire life, had someone focused their energy on me in that way.
It was intoxicating.
