Literary event.
Min.
Under a pseudonym.
The poster read the title of my new novel:
“A penthouse with a view of lies”
Mark didn’t know that the book was already on its way to publishers. He didn’t know how delighted the critics were. He didn’t know that every detail, every event, every line of the novel was so painfully similar to real characters and real scandals that no one doubted who it was about.
When Chloe first appeared on the cover of the tabloids, rumors circulated about her affair with Mark.
When the book “Penthouse from the Perspective of Lies” appeared in bookstores, rumors became a real storm.
And me? I was sitting in a chair in Connecticut, breastfeeding one of my sons, and reading the review:
A chilling, brutally honest story of female power, abuse, and revenge. If it’s fiction, it’s all too real. If it’s true, someone should be afraid.
I smiled for the first time in months.
Mark thought he had taken everything from me: my dignity, my future, and my reputation.
But he actually gave me a gift.
A villain so perfect that the novel wrote itself.
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