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The Trophy wife revenge

The Trophy wife revenge

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Blurb: "The Trophy Wife's Revenge" In the sprawling ultra-modern coastal city of Verona Bay, where opulence masks a web of corruption and crime, Valeria Moreau finds herself at the heart of a dangerous game. Valeria Kane appears to have everything-wealth, status, and a life of luxury-because she is married to Marcus Kane, a powerful but cruel man. But beneath the surface, her marriage is a façade, hiding dark secrets that threaten to destroy her. When private detective Adrian Wolfe is hired to spy on Valeria, he quickly realizes that there is more going on than just a simple affair. He has a sharp mind and a dark past. As he uncovers the layers of betrayal, he begins to question his loyalty and motivations. A woman with a burning desire for justice is hidden behind Valeria's cold exterior, and her aspiration to exact vengeance on those who have wronged her is beginning to take shape. Her ferocious best friend and criminal partner, Isabella "Izzy" Saint Valerie, stands by her side and is determined to assist her in retaliating against the men who have abused and abused her. Victor Crane, Marcus Kane's loyal bodyguard and enforcer, serves as both a protector and a constant reminder of the power Marcus holds over her life. Elena Martell, an investigative journalist, is hot on their trail, desperate to uncover the truth behind the city's elite corruption. But the stakes are higher than anyone realizes when Damien Cross, Valeria's ex-lover, resurfaces, bringing with him a trail of unresolved passion and danger. Meanwhile, Governor Nolan Trent, a crooked politician whose ties to Verona Bay's underground crime syndicate run deep, holds the key to unlocking the final pieces of the puzzle. As Valeria's plan unfolds, secrets are revealed, alliances shift, and everyone is forced to confront their darkest desires. Will Valeria be able to reclaim her life, or will the corrupt city of Verona Bay consume her? Action, suspense, love, betrayal, and the struggle for power in a city that plays by its own rules make up The Trophy Wife's Revenge, a high-stakes thriller. In a game where only the most dangerous players can survive, secrets will be exposed, loyalties will be tested, and lives will be destroyed.

Contents

Chapter 1 Bay of verona

Chapter 1

Bay of Verona

In the electric pulse of Verona Bay-where golden sunsets bleed into obsidian waters and secrets rustle behind every velvet curtain-Valeria Moreau made her entrance as if the city had been built solely to frame her silhouette. She was a sight to behold: tall, angular, French-born, and dressed in a slender silk gown from her own line, Moreau Noire. Her designs draped the most powerful women in Verona Bay, but she herself remained an enigma-rumored to have fled a European scandal, whispered to be the lover of a dethroned prince.

Before she even noticed him, Marcus Kane noticed her. He was the city's fixer. a man in dark clothes who walked a fine line between politics and the underworld of crime. Formerly military, now an elusive strategist for Verona Bay's most influential elites. He exuded the fiery charisma of a war veteran who had returned more dangerous than ever. With a steel-jawed intensity and eyes that betrayed nothing, Marcus haunted the elite gala that night like a panther in a room full of peacocks.

They met on the balcony of Governor Walsh's mansion on the cliffside, where the ocean below violently smashed into sharp rocks as if to warn them. Valeria leaned elegantly and indifferently on the marble railing as she lit a thin cigarette with a golden lighter. As he emerged from the shadows, Marcus said, "You don't belong here." Smoke curled around her lips as she slowly turned her head. "You don't either. However, here we are. That was all it took. The fuse went off. They collided in secret areas of Verona Bay over the next few weeks. Cocktail bars in the back with no names. The velvet lounges of the Orchid Room, a forbidden nightclub hidden behind the storefront of a flower shop. They were aware they were being observed. Whether it was Marcus' silent wars or Valeria's empire, everyone in the city was involved. However, the threat only heightened their obsession. Their love unfolded in whispers and in shadows-flirtation at the governor's masquerade, stolen touches at a fashion show opening, a coded note slipped into a champagne flute. It was volatile, explosive, and far too fast. They didn't fall in love as much as crash into it, bruised and breathless.

It was after the Crimson Veil exhibition-Valeria's most daring fashion show yet-hosted beneath the dancefloor of the notorious Vault Noir, a nightclub built above an old bomb shelter. Marcus followed her down the mirrored staircase into the abandoned corridor behind the wine cellar while the city's famous and wealthy danced overhead. No one spoke. The air was thick-musky with wine, danger, and tension that had been building for weeks.

Valeria pinned him against the stone wall first, her hand at his throat. Marcus smirked and reversed the grip, pressing his body into hers with a controlled hunger. His hand slid into her hair, the other down the silk that clung to her hips. She gasped into his mouth as she detected risk and heat. They didn't undress delicately. Clothes were torn, shoved aside. Her thigh hooked around his waist as he lifted her effortlessly against the wall, her heels clattering to the ground. Their bodies moved like a storm-urgent, raw, speaking a language older than either of them. Her fingernails raked across his back; he bit into her collarbone, and she moaned like someone being ruined.

The cold stone wall, the flickering light above, the rhythmic thud of the bass from the nightclub above-it all melted away. There was only them. Her breathless gasps and the grunt of his name. The slap of skin. The wild, rhythmic crescendo of something primal, inevitable.

When it was over, they didn't speak for several minutes. Just lay tangled on the fur rug she kept in the bunker, bodies soaked in sweat, hearts galloping.

Everything changed that night. They stopped pretending.

Marcus began showing up at her penthouse overlooking the marina at dawn, bringing espresso and bruises on his ribs from unknown fights. At first, she only designed in black and red. Her work became bolder, like a woman who had finally been touched the right way.

But love in Verona Bay doesn't last without consequence.

Soon, Marcus became the target of an assassination attempt in a burning warehouse near the docks. Valeria's name was scrawled in lipstick across a bullet-ridden wall. She responded by inviting Verona Bay's most notorious arms dealer to dinner and smiled as she fed him poisoned oysters. No one touched Marcus again.

They were poison and remedy. Silk and war. A myth whispered through the upper crust and screamed in alleyways below.

In a city built on deception, their love was the only truth that burned brighter than the skyline.

And it always burned.

The Web Around Valeria and Marcus

The marriage of Valeria Moreau and Marcus Kane was reported in tabloid headlines and whispered about in dimly lit lounges. She was elegance personified-an heiress with a tragic grace, an artist's spirit housed in a politician's wife. He was power incarnate-a brutal businessman-turned-political titan, his charm carefully calculated, his ambition endless.

But behind the opulent photographs and staged interviews, their union was a stage play of manipulation, secrets, and veiled threats.

Valeria's world had slowly become a gilded prison, and only a few people dared to move around her cage.

Adrian Wolfe, a private detective with a haunted past, had been hired by Marcus under the pretense of protecting Valeria. In fact, Adrian was instructed to monitor Marcus, record her calls, and follow her movements to prevent her from straying too far from him. But Adrian, battle-worn and cynical, found himself drawn into Valeria's silent cries for help. She was no longer just a case. Behind diamonds and silks, she was a woman unraveling. Quietly, Adrian became her ally, feeding Marcus partial truths while shielding Valeria's more desperate intentions.

Isabella "Izzy" Saint, Valeria's childhood friend, was the only remnant of a world before Marcus. A bohemian writer with fire in her veins and scandal on her lips, Izzy loathed Marcus openly. She visited Valeria under the guise of social calls, but her real mission was emotional rescue. Together they would drink wine by the fireplace, their laughter sharp and desperate, coded in sarcasm and sorrow. Izzy had her suspicions about Marcus's brutality-but proving it was another matter entirely.

Victor Crane, Marcus's bodyguard and enforcer, was a ghost of a man, always at Marcus's side, silent but deadly. Victor was more than just a muscle man-he was an executioner, a cleaner, and sometimes a confidant. He had a background in the military and eyes that saw everything. Everyone in the mansion feared him. Adrian often wondered if Victor was more knowledgeable than he admitted. He moved like a man carrying sins too heavy to speak of.

Elena Martell, an investigative journalist with a chip on her shoulder and a moral compass rarely shaken, had been sniffing around Marcus's business dealings for over a year. She thought he was using his wife's name to steal money from government contracts. Elena didn't trust Valeria-at first. However, the more she dug, the more she came to the realization that Valeria might not be a willing accomplice but rather an additional pawn in a much darker game. A reluctant alliance formed between the two women, each needing the other to pull the veil off Marcus's empire.

And then, there was Damian Cross-Valeria's ex-lover, the man she left for Marcus in a moment of youthful delusion. Damian was dangerous, reckless, and magnetic. After years abroad, he returned, resurfacing like a ghost Valeria never laid to rest. He wanted her back-not just the woman, but her heart, her soul, and the part of her that Marcus had tried to bury. His presence reignited feelings long suppressed, and with it, risked blowing Valeria's entire world apart.

Above them all loomed Governor Nolan Tient, a corrupt politician and Marcus's secret benefactor. Tient had blood on his hands and skeletons in his closet. He helped Marcus ascend the political ladder in exchange for favors, money, and silence. But Tient's enemies were circling, and any scandal involving Marcus would blow back on him. His patience was running thin, and when Tient grew impatient, people disappeared.

Valeria stood in the middle of it all-beautiful, broken, and cunning in ways that no one quite understood. She was not the victim she appeared to be, nor the villain Marcus feared she might become. Somewhere between love and ruin, freedom and fear, she plotted quietly. Surrounded by shadows and secrets, she was waiting. Watching. Planning.

Because the real story wasn't about her marriage.

It was about how she would end it.

Valeria sat crouching next to her vanity while holding her breath, the soft hum of the surveillance camera feeding directly into her earpiece in the dead of night. From the other side of the mansion, Marcus's private study echoed with the low rumble of male voices-him and Governor Trent, deep in discussion. Their words were clipped, urgent.

Marcus said coldly, "She's useful for now." She will be eliminated as soon as the trade deal is signed. Quietly."

Valeria's stomach became tense. She-they were talking about her. The woman he kissed in public, praised at galas, paraded like a queen.

Then came the footage. Grainy, timestamped. Her younger sister, terrified and restrained, being handed off like cargo in a dimly lit alley. Marcus was unmistakably there, placing his hand on the trafficker's shoulder and indicating his consent. Valeria dropped the earpiece, heart racing. Her skin crawled. Every memory with him, every whisper of affection-poison.

By dawn, she was sprawled on her marble bathroom floor, pale and motionless, an uncapped bottle of sleeping pills by her side. Doctors were rushed in. Marcus, ever the concerned partner, played the role of savior. But Valeria had a plan. She needed time-and now, she had it.

From her hospital bed, Valeria stared blankly at the ceiling, the IV drip humming steadily beside her

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