Lindsey Saint, a rich man's wife

I did not use to be the kind of woman to be living the life of the rich and affluent from young. I was once the daughter of a small time businessman who owned a factory outside of town, until George found me and took me away in a classic sweep-off-my-feet fantasy scenario. Little did I knew then with the relatively naive mindset I had then, having grown up to be recognized more for my looks than my talents, he was only interested in keeping me as a trophy to pump up his enormous ego and to show off to his friends. It was not long before the romance faded and I was left mostly to myself with too much time and money on my hands, with no need for a job or any other want in the world with the untold millions that I married into. Needless to say, I was partially satisfied, on the part that I was in some form financially secure, being able to send money back to my folks on the other side of the country, and also for the part of being a member of the social elite had made my life so much more comfortable. The formal parties, the afternoon brunches, the upper high class shopping and constant mingling with the other trophy wives who live close to our mansion home was a highlight of most of my days. Of course, it was lonely nonetheless, since we had no kids and George often took off on business around the world, calling every now and then to check up on me. I had never known what his work was about, and in a sense, despite my curiosity, I never asked. I had been living an extremely cushy lifestyle because of him, so I had decided not to bother. Being married to him for the past 10 years, I had all but given up on being emotionally invested in our marriage, which left me open to live the life that I had come to enjoy at aged 29.