The Wife Before

Shanora Williams

Praise for The Perfect Ruin

“A delicious and decadent cocktail of jealousy, passion, and revenge. I was hooked from the very first twist. You’ll love this addictive psychological thriller.”

—Alessandra Torre, New York Times bestselling author of Every Last Secret

“Twisty and impossible to put down! With a cast of diverse characters, Williams brings to life a twisty thriller that’ll leave you reeling long after you’ve read the last page. 10/10 recommend.”

—Claire Contreras, New York Times bestselling author

“You’re going to pick a side, make no mistake. And then you won’t put it down until you know the truth. A shocking, sensual thriller with sharp twists.”

—Tarryn Fisher, New York Times bestselling author of The Wives

“Williams is an award-winning author of romance and suspense novels; her tale of revenge will find an easy spot in fiction collections. Tailored for book clubs and for those who like to read about the sleazy side of rich elites.”

—Library Journal

“This twisty thriller takes readers into a high-class, sinfully privileged world populated with characters who will stop at nothing for what they want. Williams stretches out the tension as readers wonder what Lola did to hurt Ivy and whether their shared past will be revealed. With diabolical turns and surprises at every corner, it’s an ideal summer read for fans of May Cobb’s The Hunting Wives (2021).”

—Booklist, STARRED REVIEW

“In The Perfect Ruin, author Shanora Williams serves up an ice-cold revenge thriller set in the glamorous and steamy hot city of Miami.”

—Book Riot

“The glamour of Miami has a dark side in this twisting story where nothing is what it seems.”

—WRAL-TV (NBC) North Carolina

“This is a great story of revenge and the lengths someone will go to get it, and how there are many layers to people’s lives. It’s a great mix of female friendship and thriller.”

—Parkersburg News and Sentinel/Marietta Times

“This fast-paced and incredibly entertaining book is perfect for devouring by the poolside. Everyone in this book is terrible, but I mean that in the best way possible. Williams is so incredible at writing her characters that despite the horrible things they do, you still want to root for them.

—Off the Shelf

Books by Shanora Williams

The Perfect Ruin

The Wife Before

SHANORA WILLIAMS

THE WIFE BEFORE

www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

Praise for The Perfect Ruin
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
CHAPTER SEVENTY
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Discussion Questions for The Wife Before

DAFINA BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Dafina logo is a trademark of Kensington Publishing Corp.

ISBN: 978-1-4967-3114-2

First Trade Paperback Printing: July 2022

ISBN: 978-1-4967-3114-2 (e-book)
First Electronic Edition: July 2022

To my husband, Juan,
who is nothing like the men in this novel.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I dove deep into writing this book when I was a few weeks postpartum, which meant I was sleep deprived and dying for naps, but this story would not let me rest no matter how much I wanted to. To be honest, I have no idea how I pushed through and completed this book. Some days were really hard and seeing as I had a newborn and two other kids who needed me, I didn’t think I was ever going to get it done. Well, I’m so glad I found the time because it turned out to be so much better than I imagined.

I couldn’t have done it without my husband. He is the most supportive person I know. He’s been on board for my career since I told him about my goals and dreams as an author when I was seventeen. I thank him in every single one of my books because I truly wouldn’t be able to do this full-time if he weren’t such a wonderful father to our kids and a husband who understands when I need “just one more minute” to finish a chapter.

I also want to thank my sister Dajai for coming over and helping me with my boys during the day so I could write or work on edits. You’re such a lifesaver and I love you so, so much.

To my agent Shawanda, thank you for continuously cheering me on and keeping me steady when I feel rocky. You know just how to soothe my soul and I love you!

Thank you to my incredible editor Norma for your amazing skills! Your excitement made this story feel worth all the hard work! I’m so grateful to be able to work with you and hash out the diabolical ideas I send your way.

Thank you, Kensington and especially the Dafina imprint for believing in my work and making so many of my dreams come true! Let’s keep delivering the diversity that so many readers crave!

And last but certainly not least, thank you to every single person who is reading this and has given this book a chance. It’s because of you that I get to write twisted, over-the-top stories like The Wife Before for a living and I’m forever humbled and thankful for that.

PROLOGUE

He is going to kill me.

There was a time when I never would have thought such an awful thing about him.

He is not the man I assumed he was. He’s different now—or maybe he’s not different at all and this is how he’s always been. Those eyes that used to look at me so lovingly, now stare back at me like dark coals. The soft lips that would tenderly kiss mine, I haven’t felt on my skin in ages.

During late nights when I walk around the mansion, I feel the constant urge to look over my shoulder. Nights like tonight, as I pack my suitcase and then stuff my feet into my shoes, I’m well aware of the footsteps thundering through the hallways.

He’s prowling. He hates me and he wants me gone. He’s told me so many times before.

You aren’t the woman for me anymore.

I’m over you.

Done with you.

I don’t feel safe in this house. The air is colder, the light and warmth gone. This is a lonely place, and the terror inside me is swelling, becoming harder to cope with, with each passing day.

The bedroom door creaks open and I gasp. He stares at me from across the room, standing in the doorway. Like a wicked silhouette, he clutches the brass doorknob and I stare back at him, unmoving. Hardly breathing. What the hell does he want?

He turns away with a grunt, leaving the door wide open, those heavy footsteps of his booming through the hallway. When his dark figure turns a corner and is out of sight, I hurry to zip my suitcase up and snatch it off the bed. I carry it down the hallway, avoiding the use of the wheels to prevent any noise, and make my way downstairs. When I reach the hallway, passing elongated windows, I notice the snow pitter-pattering, brushing the glass, the moon shining through in a milky light. I have to hurry before the snow gets worse.

I leave my suitcase at the door and then rush to the mudroom to put on my coat. When I’m at the foyer, I collect my keys from the gold key bowl and grab the handle of the suitcase, marching for the door and heading outside.

Snowflakes melt on my heated cheeks as I hustle toward the car parked in the stone driveway. As I toss my suitcase into the trunk, I hear footsteps behind me and gasp, spinning around.

No one is around—at least not that I can see. There are so many trees, so many shadows. So many places for him to hide.

“Melanie,” a deep voice sings and I gasp again, looking around. Where the hell is he?

Heart sinking to my stomach, I turn, shoving the suitcase all the way in and then going for the side of the car. But as I reach the door handle, the car door locks.

“No!” I scream. He’s toying with me. He has my other key fob! Why didn’t I grab that one too? I dig into my coat pocket, hands trembling, bottom lip quivering from both fear and cold. I take it out, press the unlock button, and just as I clutch the door, I hear footsteps. They’re louder. Heavier.

I yank open the door, panicking, heart racing, but it’s too late.

Before I can get inside, a hand clutches a handful of my hair from behind me and a scream rips out of my throat.

I dare myself to look up and face him, and there he is—a dark silhouette in front of me, staring down with angry eyes. His nostrils flare and his hot breaths pass over my clammy skin. I want to scream again, but he and I both know that no matter how much I scream, no one will hear me. It’s only us. No one here to save me.

Tonight is the night he will kill me.

CHAPTER ONE

I often think back to the very moment my whole life changed. I was twenty-eight years old, taking each day as it was. I didn’t really have much going for me, and not much to look forward to, but I didn’t mind that. I was a floater, moving from place to place, going with the flow, not usually one to complain.

But now, I can’t help going back to when my life took the slightest turn and paved the way toward Roland Graham.

It all started the day I was supposed to meet my brother, Kell, for lunch. I woke up to the blaring alarm on my phone and groaned, jamming a finger down on the screen to stop the noise. I missed the screen and sat up with a huff, snatching up my phone and pressing the button hard to make the alarm stop.

The label on the alarm said Work. I rolled my eyes and flopped back down on my bed, burrowing myself beneath the comforter.

Less than a minute later and my phone rang again. A photo of Kell and me appeared on the screen, both of us smiling up at the camera with alcoholic drinks in hand, and the song “Gold Digger” by Kanye West and Jamie Foxx playing as his ringtone. He’d set it as the ringtone during one of our drunk nights out a couple months ago and I never got around to changing it.

“It’s nine in the morning, Kell,” I answered groggily. “What do you want?”

“Just checking to see if we’re still on for today, sis.”

“Of course we are. Every Wednesday, right?” I sat up, pressing my back against the wall. I had no headboard, not even a bed frame. Just a mattress on top of wooden pallets that I’d found, sanded, and painted white. I think of it as bohemian. My roommate, Shelia, thinks of it as a homeless move.

“Right—no, babe.” Kell’s voice was distant. “That’s the tie for my meeting today. Yes, I’ll talk to her about it later.”

“Talk about what?”

“Sorry, I was talking to Ana.”

I rolled my eyes at the mention of Ana. “Ah, right.”

“Anyway, see you at twelve?”

“Yes, Kellan,” I said through a yawn. “Twelve it is.”

“Good. And please try to be on time, Mira. I have to meet a client afterward.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be on time. Promise.”

“Good. See you then.”

Kell hung up abruptly and I turned back over in bed, sleeping for another hour.

CHAPTER TWO

“You’re late.” Kell stared at me from across the two-top table, his dark brown eyes narrowed, and his lips pressed thin. “I told you to be here on time. I literally just told you this morning, Mira.”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry! I was just really tired this morning because I spent all yesterday job hunting—”

“Job hunting?” he interrupted. “You lost another job, Samira?”

“Yeah. I was let go for being late too many times.” I waved a dismissive hand.

“Are you serious? I set that job up for you with Miranda. I told her you were accountable and good for her store. She’s a client of mine! Do you realize how that’s going to make me look?”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s not my fault, Kell! And to be frank, your client is a bitch and we weren’t meshing, so it’s fine. I’ll get another job, send her a fancy forgive-me basket or something.” I sipped water from one of the glasses already placed on the table for us. “I’m also tired because Shelia wanted to cheer me up for being fired, so we got drinks last night at this new club and we stayed out a little too late—”

“Look, Mira. Just stop.” Kell lifted a firm, impatient hand in the air.

I blinked and clamped my mouth shut, staring at him.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.”

“Um . . . okay. Noted. What’s with the attitude, though? Is this about me being a little late getting here? I’m always a little late, Kell! I’m sorry! What’s going on with you?”

Kell looked me over twice and then sighed, the seriousness that was once gripping his features now fading. I took a moment to really look at him since walking into the restaurant.

He wore a navy-blue suit with an olive-green tie over a creaseless tan button-down shirt. His hair was freshly cut, a gold watch on his right wrist.

Kell had been dressing different lately. Before, he’d wear plaid button-down shirts and khakis or black slacks. But now it was crisp three-piece suits, flashy watches, and weekly haircuts when before he wouldn’t bother going to a barbershop until absolutely necessary. All of these changes came shortly after he proposed to Analise seven months prior.

Despite my brother’s done-up appearance, I could see the tiredness in his eyes. To the average man, they’d see a dapper guy, handsome and alert, but as his only sibling of twenty-eight years I could see right through whatever façade he was trying to put on.

The Wife Before

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