Free Covet: Trusting the Billionaire (The Trophy Wife Book 4) by Charlotte Rose Page A

don’t believe you,” I scream at the top of my voice.
    Julian unlocks the door and comes in. There is no way for me to lock myself in anywhere in this home. I’m still tightly holding his phone, so I throw it against the wall, smashing it.
    “Cheryl.” Julian reaches for me and pulls me into his arms. “I fucking told you to approach me if you ever had any doubts. Now tell me, what is going on?”
    “I saw the text message. Stop denying it, I know it’s her,” I scream as I struggle in vain to get out of his grip. He’s clamped his arms tightly around my waist and holds me still.
    “I don’t know who she is, I told you.”
    “Let me go.” I push away, but Julian has a strong hold on me.
    “You really think I’m cheating?” Julian raises a brow.
    “Yes,” I respond.
    “Marriage is based on trust. You need to trust me when I tell you that I’m not cheating on you.” His blue eyes are fixated on me, but he has a poker face that doesn’t tell me whether or not he is genuine.
    “Just let me go.” I push out of Julian’s arms and he releases me.
    I grab my cell phone and clear glass tablet, and rush toward the door. “I’m going to sleep in another room tonight,” I call out as I enter the hallway. I scornfully glance at the painting of Julian I’ve created, then head into one of the guest bedrooms.
    I lock the door and try to calm my rapidly beating heart. I need to talk to Yula. I sit on the bed and tap the screen of my tablet to initiate the call. She appears on the screen.
    She doesn’t need an introduction; her eyes widen.
    “What’s wrong, Cheryl?” she asks, alarmed.
    “My husband is cheating.” Hot tears stream down my face, and I don’t bother wiping them away. I recall what a mess Yula looked like when she found out her husband was cheating; now I’m in her shoes.
    “What makes you think so?” she asks.
    “I saw a text from the woman. I can’t be sure, but I think it’s her. He exempted himself and told me he didn’t know who it was, but I don’t believe him.”
    “What about the classic signs, does he display any of those?”
    “What classic signs?”
    “Coming home late, cold and distant behavior…but if you really want to be sure, why don’t you hire a private investigator?”
    “Is that how you found out your husband was cheating?”
    “Yes. The investigator caught him on video—he met the bitch for dinner and they went to a hotel to fuck. I didn’t want to believe it until I saw the video footage.”
    “I’m so sorry.”
    “No need,” she says briskly. “I have plenty of people who feel sorry for me. I just pray that you don’t have to deal with the same thing.”
     
     

 
    CHAPTER NINE
     
    I haven’t slept all night and all logic has failed me. Once I believe Julian has left for work in the morning, I grab a pair of scissors, go into the hallway, and stand before the oil painting of Julian I’ve created. His face is magnificent, and each handsome feature is clearly evident in the painting. However, looks are deceiving and so is his charm.
    I take out all my fury on the painting, slashing it with the scissors. I’ve never gone so wild before, and no man has ever brought out this part of me. I didn’t know I had it in me to be so angry, but I can’t control it.
    I slash and cut through the painting so thoroughly that Julian’s face is no longer perceptible; there are only holes and cuts on the canvas. The perfect man, ruined.
    I head into the master bedroom, gripping the scissors tightly. I have to release more of my rage, so I begin cutting up the shirts and suits in his walk-in closet. I’ve never loved someone so much and then hated that person so much.
    I lose track of time, and though I’ve lost my mind, I finally tire after cutting up several hundred of his fancy shirts and custom-made suits.
    I’ve taken out my rage on some of his expensive clothing, but I don’t feel any better. I hate him even more. I grab a cigar lighter and light up