Chapter 1 - THE SEATWhen I stepped into the first class cabin of my husband’s private jet, I stopped cold.
My usual seat beside Aaron Prescott was occupied.
By Jasmine Reed.
His new secretary sat there with one leg crossed elegantly over the other, her head tilted toward my husband as if the two of them had been married for years instead of me.
She was holding a peeled orange.
She lifted one segment to Aaron’s mouth.
He accepted it.
Then she noticed me.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh!”
The orange slipped from her fingers and landed directly on Aaron’s navy trousers.
The cabin went silent.
Jasmine gasped again.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Prescott.”
She immediately reached for a napkin and began rubbing his thigh.
Aaron did not stop her.
He looked at me.
Not apologetically.
Not guiltily.
Irritated.
“Why are you just standing there?”
I glanced around.
Every member of Aaron’s executive board was watching.
Our CFO lowered his glass.
The head of legal suddenly became fascinated with the window.
My mother in law, Eleanor Prescott, sat two rows behind us in an oversized cream coat.
She gave me a disgusted look.
“Alyssa, darling, don’t make this awkward.”
I looked back at Aaron.
He sighed.
“Jasmine gets terrible airsickness. I told her she should sit here.”
I stared at the empty space beside the executive board.
Then he pointed toward the rear.
“Go back to row five.”
Row five.
On a private jet.
A seat usually reserved for assistants and junior staff.
I almost laughed.
Instead, I asked quietly, “You want me to sit in row five?”
“Yes.”
“Because your secretary gets airsick?”
“She’s working during the flight.”
“She was working until three in the morning?”
Jasmine lowered her eyes.
Eleanor answered before Aaron could.
“She was helping my son prepare for the merger.”
Her voice carried through the cabin.
“You should be grateful someone is actually helping him. Aaron has been under enormous pressure.”
The executives shifted uncomfortably.
I looked at them.
No one met my eyes.
That was when I understood something.
They had already decided what I was.
The spoiled socialite wife.
The billionaire’s ornamental wife.
The woman who married money and spent it.
Nobody in this cabin knew that four years earlier, when Aaron Prescott’s company had twelve weeks of cash left, I had moved $1.5 billion from my family trust into his collapsing company.
Nobody knew that I had personally negotiated access to thirteen patents that Aaron’s investors had said were impossible to obtain.
Nobody knew that I had used my family’s private banking network to prevent three hostile acquisitions.
Nobody knew that the “self made” billionaire sitting in front of me had once called me at 2:14 in the morning, his voice shaking, saying:
“Please. I need you.”
I had answered.
Every time.
Aaron had simply forgotten.
Or worse.
He had convinced himself my sacrifices had never been sacrifices at all.
I picked up my handbag.
“All right.”
Aaron frowned as if he expected an argument.
“That’s it?”
I smiled.
“I’m not fighting over a seat.”
Jasmine smiled faintly.
Eleanor leaned back.
Several executives visibly relaxed.
Poor Alyssa.
That was what they were thinking.
She had finally learned her place.
I took one step toward the exit.
Then another.
And just before I crossed the cabin door, the senior flight attendant approached me.
She was a woman named Claire, and I had met her twice before.
She glanced at Aaron.
Then at me.
Her expression changed.
“Ma’am?”
I stopped.
Claire lowered her voice.
“Should we cancel the flight?”
Every person in the cabin froze.
Aaron slowly stood.
“What?”
Claire looked only at me.
Not him.
“Mrs. Prescott, your family office is listed as the aircraft’s controlling owner for this trip.”
Aaron’s face drained of color.
Eleanor sat upright.
“That’s impossible.”
Claire remained calm.
“Mr. Prescott’s company may be paying for the operating expenses, but the aircraft itself is held under the Hawthorne Aviation Trust.”
Aaron stared at me.
My father’s family trust.
My trust.
My aircraft.
My jet.
The jet he had casually used to humiliate me in front of his entire company.
I smiled.
“Don’t cancel it.”
Claire nodded.
“As you wish.”
Aaron’s jaw tightened.
“Alyssa.”
I turned.
He looked angry now.
Very angry.
“What exactly are you doing?”
I held his gaze.
“Nothing.”
I stepped off the aircraft.
Behind me, Jasmine whispered something.
Eleanor hissed my name.
Aaron followed me into the terminal.
“Alyssa, stop.”
I kept walking.
He grabbed my wrist.
I looked down at his hand.
Then back at him.
“Let go.”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
For four years, I had swallowed that sentence.
Today, it sounded almost funny.
“You should be careful, Aaron.”
His grip loosened.
“Careful about what?”
I leaned closer.
“The things you think belong to you.”
Then I walked away.
He stood there, watching me disappear.
Thirty seconds later, his phone rang.
He answered.
The color drained from his face.
“What do you mean the banking authorization was revoked?”
I kept walking.
I had not yet taken anything from him.
Not the company.
Not the patents.
Not the money.
I had only taken away one seat.
May you like
But by sunset, Aaron Prescott would discover that the seat was the least important thing I had ever given him.
And the first thing I had ever taken back.
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