The Woman Who Burned the Ship Down

Ten years into our marriage, I discovered my husband was buying a ninety-million-dollar pink diamond for his mistress.

I asked for a divorce. He dragged me to the family's private cemetery and pointed at a tombstone already engraved with both our names.

"Vivienne," he said, "there is no divorce between us. There is only death."

The next day, I was placed under house arrest. My bank cards were frozen. My access to the company was revoked.

And his mistress, heavily pregnant, moved into the Presidential Suite aboard the cruise ship I had named after myself.