The First Strike Novel

---- Chapter 1 My fiancé's sex tape with my college roommate just went viral- and I'm watching it at my own engagement party. Someone AirDropped it to every guest's phone. Two hundred people. All staring at their screens. All watching Blake fuck Sophie against my childhood bedroom door. The video was filmed three days ago. While | was picking up our wedding rings. | stood frozen at the center of the ballroom, champagne glass trembling in my hand, as whispers erupted around me. Blake's mother gasped. My father's face went purple. Sophie's parents bolted for the exit.

And Blake-Blake was shoving through the crowd toward me, his face white with panic. "Olivia, | can swear this isn't-" | threw the champagne in his face. The room went silent. "Get out," | said. My voice didn't sound like mine. "Get out before | have security throw you through a window." "Liv, please-" He grabbed my wrist. "It was a mistake. One time. She meant nothing-" | looked down at his hand on my arm-the hand wearing the Patek Philippe I'd bought him for his birthday. The hand that had been all over Sophie's body seventy-two hours ago. Then | looked at the ring on my finger. Four carats.

Flawless. Worth more than his car. l yanked it off and dropped it into his champagne glass. "Keep it," | said. "You'll need it when my lawyers are done with you." ---- The crowd parted as | walked out. Behind me, Blake was shouting something about love and forgiveness and wedding deposits. | kept walking. My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: *"Check your joint account. Now."* | pulled up my banking app. Our savings account-the one with $340,000 for the wedding and honeymoon-was empty. Transferred out this morning.

To an account under Sophie Martin's name | stopped in the middle of the hotel lobby, staring at the screen. They hadn't just humiliated me. They'd robbed me. My phone rang. Blake's lawyer-a shark named Gerald Vance who I'd introduced him to six months ago. | answered. "Miss Chen," Gerald's voice was professionally sympathetic. "I'm calling on behalf of Blake Morrison. He's prepared to return half the joint account funds if you're willing to sign a non- disclosure agreement regarding tonight's... incident." | laughed. A cold, sharp sound that made the concierge glance over nervously.

"Tell Blake I'll see him in court,' | said. "And Gerald? You're fired. I'm the one who pays your retainer through my family's firm. Check your contract." | hung up. Then | called the one person who'd warned me about Blake from the beginning. "Aunt Caroline? | need a lawyer. The nastiest one you know."