book of matches.
I watched us go up in flames, only it wasn’t a quick process.
It was a slow burn that played out through harsh words, hurt feelings, through tears and sleepless nights.
Through a text message that was never intended for me …
To go from having nothing but the clothes on your back, your young wife, and a shoebox campus town apartment in Morgantown, West Virginia to having tens of millions of dollars dumped in your lap overnight was something Hunter couldn’t handle, only neither of us would know it until it was too late.
By the end of that first week, he’d signed a lease on an apartment in some trendy Manhattan neighborhood, sold my vintage Subaru and his used Honda, and rented a moving van—all of this without so much as consulting me.
By the end of the first year, he’d invested in half a dozen startups, the majority of which were profitable and one of which he ended up buying outright: a little company called Blue Stream Records.
And as if we weren’t already set for life, the universe decided to make it rain once again a couple of years after Hunter signed a handful of major artists and developed a state-of-the-art streaming service which grew by thousands of users every time we blinked.
The money poured in.
We couldn’t stop it.
It was a blessing and then a curse, and it was fun until it wasn’t.
“I’m richer than God, Love,” Hunter said to me once with a wild look in his dark eyes. And it was always like that. He was the rich one. I was just the wife. He was the one with the money and the connections and the overnight notoriety. I was just the girl on his arm who’d loved him before he was anyone special because he was always special to me.
Hunter’s business endeavors took us from obscurity to red carpets, from Gap to Givenchy, from a studio apartment to a penthouse.
I’ll never forget coming home from a run one day to someone in my closet, tossing out my entire wardrobe and replacing it with designer pieces she was pulling out of the department store bags that littered the floor.
Hunter had hired her to give me a new look—one that was more appropriate for our new lifestyle. At the time, I thought it was a sweet gesture. It was early in our Manhattan tenure and I thought he was spoiling me, treating me to all the nice things he could never afford before, as a way to celebrate our big move. But now I know it was only a control thing for him.
His insecurities and his bloated ego needed an eleven in a world where everyone in his world were content to have tens.
First it was the wardrobe. Then it was the hair and makeup. The driver. The regular manicures and diamond facials. Then it was the jewelry, the galas, the couture.
But I never wanted any of it.
I only wanted Hunter—the Hunter that I first fell in love with.
We had nothing when we tied the knot, which meant we had no reason to sign a pre-nup, which meant I was entitled to half his earnings as well as alimony.
I didn’t want all of that money, but my attorney pushed for it, telling me how much I deserved it for putting up with Hunter all those years, and then he reminded me that I could always give it away.
I found my vindication there, in that suggestion.
That money might have ruined Hunter and obliterated our marriage, but I could still do some good with it.
In the end, despite Hunter retaining one of the best divorce lawyers in the city, I managed to snag a generous lump sum, a handful of assets, and a monthly alimony payment that added up to a whopping eight figures a year.
The only way my ex would ever have to stop paying me alimony is if he goes bankrupt or if I remarry—and it’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens again.
“Let’s go grab a coffee or something,” Tierney says, folding the magazine and tossing it aside. “It’s either that or I take a nap right here on your brand-new bed.”
Smiling, she extends her arms, fingers wiggling with impatience.
Getting up from my chair, I make my way across the room, taking her hands and helping her roll off my bed.
“Need help putting your shoes on too?” I ask.
“Maybe.” She winks, and I follow her down the hall toward the little foyer of my apartment. It