The Billionaire's Wife Escapes To Antarctica

The flame from the silver lighter caught the wick of the final candle. Amy pulled her hand back. The warm light flickered across the dining table, illuminating the three-course French meal that had been sitting there for two hours. The Wagyu beef was completely cold. The fat had congealed into unappetizing white edges against the expensive porcelain plates.

She turned her head and looked at the large clock on the wall. The hands pointed exactly to nine o'clock. Brigham was not here.

Amy picked up her phone from the marble kitchen island. She pressed the speed dial for her husband's private number. The line rang twice before clicking over to the automated voicemail. The robotic voice filled the quiet room, sounding louder than it actually was.

She ended the call. Her bare feet made no sound on the hardwood floor as she walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The glittering skyline of Manhattan stretched out below her, millions of lights pulsing in the dark. A cold knot formed in her stomach. The silence of the penthouse was suffocating.

The screen of her phone suddenly lit up in her hand. It was a push notification from a social media app. A special alert she had set up long ago.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. Her fingertips were ice cold. She tapped the notification. A live video posted by Kade Vance filled the screen. The heavy bass of club music blasted from the small speakers, shattering the quiet of her apartment.

The background of the video was the most exclusive private club in New York. Champagne towers stood tall on glass tables. Gold and black balloons floated near the ceiling.

The camera panned across the crowded room and stopped right in the center. Brigham Myers was there. He was looking down, a soft smile playing on his lips. It was a smile Amy had not seen in three years of marriage.

Following Brigham's gaze, the camera shifted. Giselle Leach stood there. She had just returned from Europe.

Giselle was wearing a stunning white haute couture gown. Amy recognized it instantly. It was the exact dress Brigham had won at an auction just last week. He had told Amy he bought it as an investment for the company's archive.

In the video, someone popped a bottle of champagne. The foam sprayed through the air. Brigham reached out and pulled Giselle by the waist, tucking her against his chest to shield her from the spray. His hand rested firmly on her hip.

The caption Kade had typed across the bottom of the video burned into Amy's retinas. "Our queen is finally back. I heard he blew off some serious business to be here tonight."

All the strength left Amy's fingers. The phone slipped from her hand and hit the thick wool rug with a dull thud. The music continued to play from the floor, muffled but still clear.

She turned around slowly. She looked at the dining table, at the cold Wagyu beef,