Is the past bound to repeat itself? If you were once a trophy wife, are you always going to be a trophy wife? That’s the question Alison Davies seeks to answer once she’s free from her “wealthy jerk” ex…Arthur, the man she had once thought was so charming.
She’d been an eighteen-year-old trophy wife to a rich older man. She’d thought she could live with it.
The marriage had been fine in the beginning, but it had slowly declined until she couldn’t live with it anymore. Pretty soon, if she stayed, she would start to anesthetize her deep unhappiness with alcohol or prescription drugs.
After Alison overhears Arthur tell a business associate about the benefits of having a “young, gorgeous, vulnerable, and completely dependent” wife, she leaves him the next day. Six months later, divorce decree in hand, she moves into the house her grandmother left her, in the mountains of North Carolina; a hick town, according to her friend Vicki. Her wheels are “her father’s old tank of an Oldsmobile.” Because of an iron-clad prenup, Alison is going old-school and down-market—because that’s all she can afford.