Aaron’s new secretary was leaning toward him, smiling as she placed a piece of peeled orange near his mouth.
The moment she noticed me, she gave a dramatic little gasp.
The orange slipped from her fingers and landed on Aaron’s trousers.
“Oh my goodness, Mr. Prescott. I’m so sorry.”
She immediately reached down and began brushing at his leg.
Aaron didn’t stop her.
He didn’t even move away.
Instead, he looked at me with irritation.
As if I were the one interrupting something.
“Jasmine gets terrible airsickness,” he said. “I told her she could sit there. Go back to row five.”
His executive team was already seated around the cabin.
Everyone heard him.
Before I could say anything, my mother-in-law spoke from behind me.
“She worked with Aaron until three in the morning, Alyssa. The least you can do is show some consideration.”
I looked at the seat.
My seat.
The one beside my husband that I had occupied on dozens of trips.
Jasmine stayed exactly where she was.
Completely comfortable.
Waiting to see whether I would obey.
To everyone on that plane, Aaron Prescott was a brilliant self-made technology billionaire.
And I was his privileged wife.
The woman who smiled beside him in photographs.
Attended charity dinners.
Wore expensive gowns.
And supposedly contributed nothing except looking polished in public.
What they didn’t know was that when Prescott Technologies had been on the edge of collapse, I transferred $1.5 billion from my family trust to keep it alive.
They also didn’t know that I controlled thirteen patents that had become essential to the company’s expansion.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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