The Quiet Wife’s Vengeance After Two Years Behind Bars

My billionaire husband framed me—falsifying evidence and pinning an entire corporate fraud case on me—all to clear his innocent-act secretary’s name. Faced with the planted evidence, I was powerless. I served two years. When my mother heard the news, her weak heart gave out. She was gone shortly after I was locked away. When I was released, the secretary, Skye Abbott, was five months pregnant. Seeing that I was quiet and compliant, my husband, Spencer Graham, thought I’d finally learned my lesson. He promised to put me in charge of our new tech venture, The Meridian Project. But at the shareholders’ meeting, he abruptly announced that Skye Abbott would be the new CEO. Back home, he explained it to me with a dismissive shrug. “Skye graduated from a top-tier university, and she’s competent,” he said, utterly nonchalant. “More importantly, she has a clean track record. People will trust her.” I gazed at the raw, dark hickey staining the skin above his collar and simply nodded. Spencer, taking my silence for acceptance, looked pleased. He promised the next new company would surely be mine. But I didn’t want it anymore. I only wanted a divorce. I wanted us to part ways, never to cross paths again. … After the shareholders’ meeting, the office buzzed with gossip. Every time I sat at my desk, I was met with pitying or sneering glances. The break room was a constant hive of noise. “Seriously, how does Audrey Hollis even show her face?” I overheard. “Her husband basically threw the mistress in her lap, and she’s just… sitting there.” “Maybe two years inside scrambled her brains.” “She’s probably terrified Spencer will divorce her. She’s useless now. Without him, she’d be begging on the street.” A burst of cruel laughter followed. They exchanged knowing looks when I walked in. Years ago, I would have stormed in and confronted them. Now, I just quietly collected my things and left. Prison does change you. Inside, there was only the relentless grind of bullying and degradation. I was immune to this kind of cheap shot now. Everyone in the firm knew Spencer and I were married, and they certainly knew about the tawdry affair with Skye Abbott. Spencer and I had been college sweethearts. We married right out of school. Our relationship had been solid—or so I thought. I’d been a star student, recruited by a major Silicon Valley firm straight out of graduation. Spencer was fiercely ambitious, desperate to build his own empire, but he was fundamentally mediocre. I quit my high-paying job and threw myself into helping him. I secured the investors he couldn’t charm, and I did the crucial groundwork he couldn’t execute. I was the architect who put him in the corner office. Then, two years ago, he insisted on hiring Skye—a woman with zero experience—for the executive assistant pool. He claimed her troubled background reminded him of his own struggling youth. I was unhappy, but I reluctantly agreed. I didn’t want him to be unhappy. I trained Skye myself, painstakingly teaching her until she could handle all the necessary tasks. She repaid me by telling Spencer I was using my position to feed intel to a rival firm. Spencer, without checking a single fact, immediately transferred me out of the executive suite. From then on, Skye was untouchable. He dumped her work on my plate and “accidentally” deposited portions of my salary into her account. One rainy night, he even ordered me to drive two hours to deliver a bag of toiletries to Skye and her alleged boyfriend. I convinced myself he just saw her as a little sister. I never imagined he would frame me. Skye, drunk, had caused a serious accident. Spencer paid off the victim and destroyed the evidence. To cover the financial trail and ensure my silence, he used the company’s existing tax discrepancies—which I’d been trying to fix—and pinned them on me as massive corporate fraud. Faced with the victim’s accusations and crushing debt, I had no choice but to take the fall. He never visited me once in the two years I was inside. Only his lawyer came, delivering a single, cold message: “Mr. Graham says don’t talk. He’ll still give you a meal ticket when you get out.” The memory made me curl my lip in a self-deprecating smile. I sent the heavily-encrypted folder from my laptop to my lawyer and let out a long, quiet breath. Since my release, I had played the role of the devoted, humbled wife. I was always near Spencer, always agreeable. He believed I was tamed. What he didn’t know was that I had been methodically, patiently gathering irrefutable proof of my innocence. “Alright, Audrey. We can file the motion now.” My lawyer’s text came through quickly. Not yet. I thought. I wanted to catch them both in the same net. Before I could reply, Skye’s text arrived. It was a photo. Spencer was in a high-end baby boutique, smiling a gentle, paternal smile I’d never seen before, picking out newborn essentials. He’d always claimed he was a DINK—Double Income, No Kids—and loathed shopping, preferring everything online. It was clear now. He just loathed me. “Audrey, your husband is shopping for OUR baby’s clothes,” the text read. “He said I’m the best woman he’s ever met, and only a woman like me deserves to carry on his legacy. That new company? It’s a gift for my tireless work every single night.” Her taunt left me completely unfazed. I simply saved the text and the photo. When I didn’t reply, she started flooding my phone with photos: sweet dates, intimate moments, pictures of them touching. I saved every single one. I still didn’t respond. A minute later, Spencer called. “Why are you giving Skye the silent treatment?” he demanded the moment I answered, his voice thick with undisguised contempt. “How dare you ignore her? She’s your boss now! You should be kissing up to her. Instead, you freeze her out.” I remained silent. “You apologize to Skye immediately!” Then Skye’s saccharine voice chirped in the background, “It’s okay, Spence. Audrey doesn’t need to apologize. She’s your wife, I won’t make trouble for her.” Skye’s ‘generosity’ only enraged Spencer further. “See her maturity, her class?” he spat at me. “You’re such a petty, small-minded senior employee. Audrey, apologize to Skye! Do it, or I swear I’ll divorce you.” I couldn’t stop a quiet, dark laugh from escaping. “Fine. I was wrong,” I said flatly. Wrong to have ever trusted you. Wrong in not leaving you sooner. Spencer sounded instantly mollified. “Good. Glad you get it. Look, I’m doing you a favor by staying married. You have a record now. It’s an act of grace.” “Your apology needs sincerity. Buy Skye a gift.” “Try to be a good wife going forward…” Buy her a gift? I thought. Go to hell. But Spencer took care of the ‘gift’ himself. He gave Skye my mother’s heirloom jewelry. Before we married, my mother had given Spencer the antique set—the most valuable thing our family owned, worth more than our childhood home. He had casually handed that irreplaceable piece of my legacy to his pregnant mistress. The set was in our home safe, which required both our fingerprints to open. “Get home now!” Spencer barked over the phone, his voice sharp with command. Scrolling back through our chat logs, I realized Spencer’s texts had devolved into nothing but short, clipped orders. I ignored him. I finished clearing my desk and left the office. I found Spencer seated on the living room couch, arms crossed, when I returned home, divorce papers tucked into my bag. He stood up abruptly at the sound of the door, then stormed into the master bedroom, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame. It was a tantrum. He was demanding to be coddled. Though I despised the routine, the thought of the signed divorce agreement soon made me knock and enter. A coffee mug smashed against the wall by my head, sending ceramic shards flying. A piece grazed my calf. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly when he saw the blood bead up, but the surprise quickly morphed into a look of impatient annoyance. “Fine, I won’t hold a grudge about you failing to beg for forgiveness earlier,” he said. He meant that in the past, a tantrum like this would have ended with me on my knees, followed by an emergency shopping spree for his favorite luxury goods. God, I was a fool. “I know you’re still sulking about the company. But I explained the reason.” He didn’t meet my eye. “Can’t you be more generous?” He looked down at his phone, gazing at a photo of Skye’s pregnant belly. The tenderness in his face was something I had never once been shown. “The baby will be here soon. Audrey, my child will be your child. I’ll make sure they treat you like their mother,” he vowed. “Let’s forget the past and move on.” I felt a hysterical laugh bubble up. He slapped me with public infidelity and now expected me to raise his mistress’s child? “And I gave her that jewelry,” he continued, oblivious. “It was a thank you. When you were incarcerated, if Skye hadn’t gone to the victim every day, practically begging for mercy, your sentence would have been much worse.” The audacity of the lie was breathtaking. If not for him and Skye, I would never have been arrested at all. I knew every small, sordid move they’d made behind my back. Seeing my silence, Spencer thought I was wavering. He leaned in, kissing me quickly on the corner of my mouth. “Just tell me where the set is, and let’s put this behind us.” God, that’s disgusting. I fought down the wave of nausea. “I have a few company documents here,” I said, pulling out a slim folder. “The firm needs your signature urgently.” Eager to get his hands on the heirloom, he swiftly signed every page, including the separation agreement tucked subtly at the back. “Great! Let’s get the jewelry now,” he said, dropping the pen. I gave a faint nod. I retrieved the antique necklace and bracelet. Even in my hands, the gold and diamonds seemed to shine with a perverse glow. “Give it to me.” Spencer reached out, his hand already grasping for the box. The ringtone for Skye’s personalized ringtone cut through the air. Spencer’s face softened into a smile, forgetting the heirloom entirely. I took advantage of his distraction and swapped the real necklace with a high-quality replica I’d retrieved earlier. I placed the fake set in his hand. “Fine, you can go now. Don’t bother me.” I knew who was on the line. He and Skye often talked all night, sometimes making noises that drifted through the wall. Whatever Skye said, it sent him rushing out of the apartment. He didn’t come back for days. I didn’t call or text him. I was busy preparing. The moment the court summons was issued, my vindication would begin. I returned home from work a few days later to find all my personal items tossed into the hallway. My prized collection of rare figurines was shattered in the trash bin, lying next to my wedding ring. I pushed the bedroom door open. Spencer and Skye were kissing. They broke apart at the sound of the door. “Don’t you knock when you get home?” Spencer snapped, annoyed at the interruption. I found it mildly hilarious. I shot them a cold glance. “This is my house,” I stated icily. “Spence, Audrey’s being mean,” Skye whimpered, her tone soft but her eyes flashing with provocation. “Maybe I should just leave.” Spencer’s eyes immediately went soft with protectiveness. “No, you stay here. Don’t worry.” He turned back to me, his expression hardening with outright disgust. “I’m turning this apartment into a collection gallery for Skye. She loves designer handbags, you know.” This apartment was my parents’ graduation gift to me, purchased outright. The deed was only in my name. Spencer had zero claim. “I don’t agree,” I said. Spencer rolled his eyes. “Your agreement doesn’t matter.” He remembered something else. “And I heard you left work early yesterday. How irresponsible. Do you think this company is your playground?” “Tomorrow, you will follow the rules and stand in the lobby, shouting out your apology to the entire staff.” This particular humiliation was only ever reserved for me. While the rule was supposedly for all employees, anyone else who messed up was given a pass. I was always punished with severity. This was the reward for building his empire. “Spence, please don’t be angry. Audrey is probably still adjusting to life outside. Give her a chance. You’ll upset the baby.” The mention of the child instantly dissolved Spencer’s anger. He looked at me with deep disappointment. “See how mature Skye is? Young, yet capable and considerate,” he lectured. “And look at you. Accomplished nothing. A leech.” I cut him off. I was sick of the monologue. “This apartment was my parents’ gift. It has nothing to do with you. You have no right to decide its use.” I held up the paper. “We signed the divorce agreement yesterday. You and your mistress need to get out of my house.” Spencer’s face tightened into an ugly scowl. “Audrey Hollis! Who do you think you are?” he roared. “We’re married! Your assets are mine! And as for divorce, you can forget it!” I gave a humorless laugh. “Whether we divorce is my call. Are you really willing to risk me pressing charges for bigamy?” Spencer’s face turned scarlet. All he could manage was a guttural, “You are despicable, Audrey!” Skye rushed to him, soothing his back. “Don’t fight over me, Spence. If you don’t want me here, I’ll go.” She started walking out. As she passed, she leaned in close and whispered, her voice laced with malicious glee, “You know, your mother was crawling at my feet before she died, clutching my pant leg, begging me. She looked just like a sick dog.” The fury that erupted in my chest was blinding. Call me what he liked, but he would not touch my family. “You filthy bitch.” I put all my strength into a slap across her face. Her frail body crumpled, hitting the corner of the wall with a whimper. Seeing his lover on the floor, Spencer became a raging beast. He hauled off and struck me across the face. “How dare you touch her!” He lunged at me, fists flying. I sidestepped, and he stumbled, falling hard onto the floor. “Get out, both of you!” I said, my voice dangerously low. Suddenly, Spencer tore his own shirt and raked his nails across his cheek. He rushed to the door and flung it open, screaming: “Help! Someone, help me!” The noise drew curious neighbors out. “What in the world is happening?” Mr. Donaldson from upstairs asked, supporting the tearful Spencer. “I am so sorry to bother everyone,” Spencer apologized profusely, bowing deeply. “I just didn’t know what else to do.” Naturally, the neighbors instantly saw Spencer as the victim. A clamor of voices demanded an explanation. Spencer spoke with the voice of a man broken by grief. “My wife came home demanding money. When I said I didn’t have it, she attacked me and my pregnant sister…” Seeing Skye on the floor, her lip already bleeding, the neighbors immediately turned on me. “You’ve been out for over a year! Why aren’t you working?” “And your sister is pregnant!” “Call the police! Put this viper back in jail! Your husband is a saint for putting up with you!” Spencer had clearly paved the narrative long ago. He had engineered the perfect mob scene. Someone even grabbed my arms, restraining me. It was at that moment my lawyer arrived, followed by a team from the Prosecutor’s Office. “Prosecutor’s Office. We have a warrant,” the official announced, flashing a badge. “Wait, we called the police, not the District Attorney,” a neighbor muttered, confused. Spencer looked stunned. The prosecutor spoke, his voice grave. “We are here regarding a two-year-old case of aggravated assault and corporate fraud.”