Perfect. Here's Chapter One of your novel Husband Snatched by My Best Friend and I Took Revenge—crafted to be both erotic and dramatic, as requested.
Chapter One: The Scent of Betrayal
The night began like any other. A soft drizzle kissed the windows of our penthouse apartment, and the scent of vanilla candles filled the living room. I had taken special care tonight—slipping into the crimson silk robe Liam always said brought out the fire in my eyes. The plunging neckline, the slit that teased up to my thigh… I wore it like armor, unaware that the war had already begun.
Liam was late—again.
I glanced at the clock. 9:47 p.m. The wine had gone warm, and my fingertips were trembling slightly around the crystal stem. I told myself I wasn't nervous, just frustrated. That was a lie. I felt it, somewhere deep beneath my skin—a slow crawl of unease. The kind that whispers truths your heart isn't ready to hear.
Then came the chime of a notification from his iPad on the counter.
I wouldn't have checked it. I never had before. But something—call it instinct or the sharp edge of a woman's intuition—told me to walk over and look.
And I did.
Vanessa: "Last night was still on my lips when I woke up this morning… Should I wear red or nothing at all this time?"
I stared at the screen. My stomach knotted. My best friend. My husband. The last two people in the world I would have ever questioned—wrapped in heat and secrecy behind my back.
I scrolled up. God, I wish I hadn't.
Vanessa: "You were wild last night… That tongue of yours should be illegal."
Liam: "You bring it out in me, babe. Alicia's too… proper. I need fire. You give me that."
I dropped the iPad. The sound was a dull crack against the marble floor.
Proper.
He used to love that about me. The way I'd blush under his gaze, the way I teased before giving in. Now he wanted fire? He wanted her?
Vanessa, with her perfect smile, her manufactured curves, her way of always laughing a little too loudly. My best friend since freshman year, the maid of honor at our wedding, the woman who'd cried happy tears when I said "I do."
I clenched the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening. A mix of heat and ice surged through me—rage tangled with disbelief, and under it all, a kind of dark arousal. The taboo of it. The betrayal. The thought of him touching her the way he used to touch me.
My thighs pressed together involuntarily.
No. I wouldn't break. I wouldn't scream or sob or crumble like some tragic wife in a cliché.
Instead, I lit another candle. Poured myself a fresh glass of wine. And I waited.
When the door opened at 10:13, Liam walked in looking flushed and windblown, like he'd been racing to beat the guilt. Or maybe he'd just come straight from her.
"Hey, babe," he said, loosening his tie. "You're up late."
I watched him move—studied the way his shirt clung to his torso, how his fingers moved deftly over the buttons. There was a time when I would've pulled him close, run my nails down his chest, dragged him to the couch and made him forget everything.
Instead, I crossed the room and stood directly in front of him.
"You smell like her perfume," I said.
He froze. Just for a moment. But it was enough.
"I don't know what—"
"Vanessa wears 'Midnight Rose.' You always said it gave you a hard-on." My eyes locked with his. "You reek of it."
He had the audacity to chuckle—nervously, like I might be joking. "Alicia, come on, you're being—"
I silenced him with a kiss.
Hard. Deep. Unexpected.
He groaned against my mouth, hands gripping my hips. For a second, he was mine again. I could taste her on him—bitter and sweet. It made my blood boil and my core throb.
I bit his bottom lip. Hard enough to draw blood.
He yelped and pulled back. "What the hell?"
"Did she do that to you?" I whispered, eyes blazing. "Did she claw her nails down your back? Did she moan your name the way I used to?"
He stared at me, shaken now. "Alicia…"
"I saw the messages," I said simply. "Every filthy word."
Silence. A flush of guilt rose in his cheeks, but no apology. Just… excuses forming behind his lips.
But I was already walking away.
"I'll let you sleep on the couch tonight," I said over my shoulder. "You might need the space to think about how easily a man can lose everything."
And as I climbed into bed alone, the silk robe still clinging to my curves, a dangerous thought bloomed in my mind:
She took what was mine.
Now I'll take everything from her.