Elodie's POV
Nicholas Vanderbilt walked in like a king, convinced the crown still belonged to him.
Arrogant. Unbothered.
Trailing behind was his newest trophy.
Mistress number eight. Four-inch stilettos, lashes heavy enough to shade a room, and a smirk that thought she’d won.
Valerie Smith.
I didn’t even flinch. I was too focused on my poker hand, surrounded by the other seven women he’d once called 'irresistible,' when Nicholas slapped a crisp divorce agreement on the table like it was supposed to shake me.
“Valerie is the love of my life,” he said, chest puffed and eyes full of self-congratulation. “She’s the only woman worthy to be my wife.”
Without pausing, Nicholas ordered, "Serve her well if you want to live here!"
Then, with that signature arrogance of his, he turned to me and said, “Elodie, draw a bath for her. Wash her feet.”
And to the rest—Rebecca, Jessica, Amanda, Lisa, Hannah, and Cressida—he barked out orders as if we were servants: “Pour her tea. Give her a massage. Make yourselves useful.”
The second mistress, Rebecca, scoffed, slamming her card on the table. “Didn’t he say the same thing when he brought me here?”
Meanwhile, the third mistress, Jessica, gave a slow, pitying nod.
Amanda, the fourth, on the other hand, burst into tears and muttered something about finally leaving.
The others all looked at me, waiting for a signal.
I drew my final card, set it down with a satisfying click, and smiled.
“Well then,” I said, folding my cards. “Let’s all leave together. We’ve made enough over these years, anyway.”
——
One by one, the seven mistresses started packing. It didn’t take long before that sprawling mansion looked like a ghost town, stripped bare.
When Nicholas came back and saw the empty house, he frowned. “Elodie, what kind of game are you playing now?”
I barely glanced up, checking the inventory list. “Just making room for your new favorite.”
This new girl, Valerie Smith, the eighth one, was the poor girl I sponsored back in college.
She wasn’t exceptionally talented, but boy, did she have an attitude.
Taking over my bedroom and ripping up my roses wasn’t enough for her. She also smashed Rebecca’s laptop, broke Jessica’s surgical tools, and killed Amanda’s pet goldfish on purpose.
Living with someone like that? Absolutely not.
I’d rather pack up, take what I’m owed, and get out early than stick around and suffer.
Nicholas had no clue what had actually gone down.
He nodded slowly, his expression softening. “You’ve always been so generous. This must’ve been hard for you. I’ll transfer you $5 million as compensation. And if there’s anything else you need, just say it.”
He looked at me, real hopeful, like he was waiting for me to tear up and whisper, “I don’t want anything… I want to stay with you.”
But as I stared at the extra string of zeros added to my bank account, I almost couldn’t keep from grinning.
I’ve lived this life before. And one thing I’ve learned?
Nicholas Vanderbilt is not someone you bet your future on.
Men can promise the moon, but a platinum bank card that never runs dry?
That’s what keeps you warm at night.
I took a slow breath, straightened up, and said calmly, “I’ve already signed the divorce papers. Rebecca is handling the fast-track processing of the documents.”
Looking at Nicholas directly in the eye, I sighed and continued, “Don’t worry. None of us is going to get in the way of you and Valerie's happy life.”
Nicholas blinked, confused. “You’re really not even a little upset?”
I raised a brow, my lips curling into something between a smile and a smirk.
Upset? That was me in my last life.
Nicholas was always like this: charming, selfish, and careless.
He brought home his second mistress, Rebecca Clark, after a business trip.
Then Jessica Brown, the third, came from a hospital stay.
Amanda St. James, the fourth? He fell for her while watching a movie.
God, she played with the same name as I have.
In the meantime, he encountered the fifth, Lisa Kensington, in a court case. She was the opposing counsel.
And while out shopping with me, Nicholas somehow managed to scoop up both Hannah Parkinson, the sixth, and Cressida White, the seventh.
Every time, Nicholas would look me dead in the eye and say, “Elodie, don’t worry. We grew up together. No one knows me like you do. You’re my grandfather's chosen legal wife. No one can ever take your place as Mrs. Vanderbilt.”
As the wealthiest man in our elite social circle, he could afford thousands of beauties rotating through his revolving door of lovers.
But me? I’m not doing this again.
Not this time. Not in this life was I given a second chance.
I refuse to be the submissive wife who stays behind managing his circle of lovers.
Nicholas opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say a word, Valerie bounced into his arms, eyes sparkling like she owned the world.
“Nicky, the backyard garden is gorgeous! I want to have the most extravagant wedding there, and I want everyone to see just how beautiful and amazing your future wife really is!”
