Too Late, Mr. CEO: I Am Unstoppable

Seven years ago, I gave up a Supreme Court clerkship to marry the billionaire CEO, Jaret Burns. Today, he dragged me into a Manhattan courtroom by my wrist.

He accused me of hiding cocaine in the trunk of my car. He stood protectively near Chelsie, the woman crying fake tears in the gallery, and hissed that I was a jealous disgrace dragging his family name through the mud.

Dozens of eyes stabbed into my back as the prosecutor loudly read the felony charges. Jaret took a deliberate step away from my chair, crossing his arms to distance himself from a criminal. He looked at me with blind arrogance, completely trusting the woman who had actually framed me. He had no idea my defense attorney was holding a USB drive with time-stamped security footage of Chelsie planting the drugs.

As the chilling realization wrapped around my heart, the ashes of my seven-year sacrifice blew away into nothingness. I had buried my brilliant legal mind to be his unpaid maid and trophy wife, only to be thrown away for a pathetic lie.

When the judge saw the video, dismissed my charges, and had the bailiffs drag a screaming Chelsie away, Jaret finally panicked.

"Nora, wait, I didn't know!"

I didn't even look at his regretful face. I went home, left my three-carat diamond ring on top of the signed divorce papers, and scheduled an interview with the most ruthless litigator in New York.