When I entered the private jet’s cabin, Jasmine was sitting in my usual seat beside my husband. Aaron’s new secretary leaned toward him, smiling as she fed him pieces of peeled orange.
She noticed me and gave an exaggerated gasp. An orange segment fell onto Aaron’s thigh, and she immediately began brushing at his trousers.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Prescott.”
Aaron made no attempt to move her hand. Instead, he looked at me with irritation, as though my arrival had interrupted something important.
“Jasmine gets terrible airsickness. I told her to sit here. Go back to row five.”
His executive team watched from their seats. Before I could answer, my mother-in-law spoke from behind me.
“She worked for Aaron until three this morning, Alyssa. The least you can do is be considerate.”
I looked at the chair I had occupied on so many trips beside him. Jasmine remained comfortably seated, waiting for me to accept the arrangement.
To the people aboard, Aaron Prescott was a self-made technology billionaire. I was his wealthy wife, someone whose comfortable life supposedly required no contribution beyond attending dinners and smiling for photographs.
They did not know I had transferred $1.5 billion from my family trust when Prescott Technologies was close to collapse. I had also secured the thirteen patents that became essential to its growth.
For four years, I had let Aaron receive the public credit. I believed helping him without demanding recognition was part of loving him, but he had begun treating my support as something he was owed.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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