“Distribution and advertising campaigns through the department stores you have shares in. I’ll do the rest. I’m going to bring in as many successful women into the project as I can, and I’ve worked out a campaign strategy that’s unlike anything that’s been done before. Particularly when it comes to this type of product. I’m not asking you to invest as some sort of ideological gesture. I’m explaining my thinking so that you appreciate the immense potential of this project. The target market for our products isn’t just women, but women who are fed up of being let down by men.”

There was a twinkle in Irene’s eyes. She picked up the sketch again and looked at it thoughtfully.

Faye sat in silence. Let her think.

She had decided not to make Irene an offer but to let her raise the subject instead. Irene’s share would be larger than the one percent she had been planning to offer the women who invested. Irene would get more. Faye had already given Kerstin five percent of the business. She had offered her ten, but Kerstin had refused saying it was too much.

“I want ten percent,” Irene said.

“Five,” Faye said. Her heart was thudding in her chest.

“Seven.”

“Deal.”

She had to make a real effort not to let out a shriek and dance with joy. Instead she got to her feet and Irene did the same. They met in the middle of the room and shook hands.

Irene fished a card from her handbag.

“Call me whenever you need anything. This is my direct number. You don’t have to go through my secretary.”

When Faye emerged onto the street her mobile buzzed. She didn’t want to be disturbed, she wanted to savor this moment, but when she saw it was Chris she answered.

“She’s on board, Chris! Irene fucking Ahrnell is on board!”

“Brilliant!” Chris said enthusiastically. “So you’re quite pleased, then?”

“Pleased?” Faye said as she set off toward Stureplan. “I’m over the moon! Revenge is going to be available in all her stores. And she’s promised to use her international contacts if the Swedish launch is successful. Have you any idea how fantastic that is?”

“Yes, I have. But we’ll have to celebrate later. Right now I’ve got two people who want to talk to you.”

“Okay?” Faye said uncertainly.

“Hang on, I’ll put you on speaker.”

“Hi, Faye, my name is Paulina Dafman,” a hoarse voice said. “I’m sitting here with my friend Olga Niklasson. Have you got a minute?”

Faye’s heart skipped a beat. Olga Niklasson and Paulina Dafman were two of the biggest Instagram profiles in Sweden. Between them they had three million followers.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“We’re sitting in the Grand H?tel drinking cava with Chris. And we loooove Chris! And she told us about what had happened to you, about that treacherous bastard, and about your business idea, and we’re very interested. Is there any chance that we could get involved and help you with this?”

“You want to get involved?”

“Absolutely!” they said in chorus. “And I’m sure we can bring in a few more girls with good accounts. We know everyone who’s anyone, you know.”

“They really do,” Chris said. “They know me, for instance . . .”

Faye stifled a giggle.

She was bursting with joy when she hung up. An older woman with a dachshund in her arms looked at her in surprise. Faye smiled broadly at her and the woman hurried on.

Faye paused to study her reflection in the plate-glass window of Svenskt Tenn, and knew she was looking at a winner.

PART THREE

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A fan was whirring far too loudly somewhere, detracting from the luxurious impression the law firm was trying to convey.

Jack had asked to see her while he was in custody. Faye’s lawyer snorted and shook her head when she told her.

“I can’t understand how he’s got the nerve to ask to see you. How can he possibly imagine that you’d want to, after what he’s done?”

Faye didn’t answer. She slowly stirred her tea as she sat in the meeting room. She stared almost hypnotized at the ripples in the red-bush tea, the maelstrom in the middle that seemed to swallow everything.

Her lawyer put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

“The prosecutor is going to press for life. There’s no chance he’ll get anything less, given the evidence. You’ll never have to see him again after the trial.”

“But is it going to be possible to prove anything? Without her . . .” Faye’s voice cracked. “Without her body?”

“There’s enough evidence besides that. And then there’s his abuse of you. Believe me, he won’t be getting out for a very long time.”

Faye stopped stirring. She put the spoon on a white napkin and cautiously raised the cup to her lips. The tea burned her tongue but she welcomed the pain. These days it was her friend. The pain lived in the murky waters where she kept all her secrets.

Ingrid Hansson, the reporter from Dagens Industri, was picking at a Caesar salad. Faye was making do with green tea. The digital recorder was between them, its recording light flashing.

“It really is a remarkable journey that you’ve been on with Revenge,” Ingrid Hansson said. “After your divorce from Jack Adelheim you went from being a housewife to the owner and CEO of a company that’s expected to reach a turnover of one and half billion kronor this year. What’s the secret?”

Faye raised the cup to her lips and took a sip.

“Hard work, I’d say. And knowledgeable and engaged investors.”

“But it all started with your divorce?”

Faye nodded.

“When Jack and I separated I hadn’t a clue what to do with my life. I started a dog-walking business and spent my days doing that. In the evenings I worked on my business plan.”

“Was it a messy divorce, given the name of your company? Revenge?”

The question was posed in a neutral way, but she knew it was a land mine. Faye was familiar with the whole media game by now. The worst ones were always the journalists who pretended to be your friend, who tried to play on sympathy. The ones who liked to hang around once they’d put the recorder away to chat “off the record.”

In the world of the media there was no such thing as “off the record,” nor “you mustn’t use this.” They were merciless. But Faye knew how to exploit them. She crossed her legs and clasped her hands together on her lap. She could afford an expensive wardrobe of her own now, she saw it as a uniform, armor. She used her clothes to signal power and success. Today she had chosen an Isabel Marant jacket and a Chanel skirt. But the blouse was a bargain from Zara. She liked mixing things up, not dressing from head to toe in expensive designer gear.

“Messy, no. But it was difficult. Like all divorces.”

“How would you describe your relationship today?”

“We have a daughter, and we shared more than ten years of our lives. If Compare does end up going public, I’ll probably buy a few shares.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I was involved in the early years. Naturally I want to support the company now.”

Ingrid Hansson wiped her mouth.

“So the name Revenge has nothing to do with your divorce?” she asked. “I’ve heard a lot of rumors about how you sold the idea to your backers.”

Faye laughed.

“Every good product comes with a good story. Stories that take flight and spread across the internet and social media. I can’t exactly claim that that’s been a disadvantage. It’s simply good business to find something that an awful lot of women have in common.”

Ingrid nodded and changed the subject to performance indicators, the most recent accounts, international expansion, and the prestigious awards Revenge had won for its marketing. Also a fair number of questions about Faye’s private investments, primarily in property, which had made such a significant contribution to her own personal fortune. Faye was happy to share information and advice. She had nothing to hide. Not when it came to her finances, anyway.

Half an hour later the interview was over. Ingrid Hansson left Faye’s office in a prestigious building on Birger Jarlsgatan. Faye looked on thoughtfully as the reporter left, leaning against the wall in the window alcove as she granted herself a few rare minutes of peace.

Once the merry-go-round started to spin everything had happened at breakneck speed. The three years that had passed since the divorce had exceeded all expectations. Revenge was a huge success, bigger than she could ever have dreamed of. She had underestimated the impact her marketing campaign and products would have. Women had loved the company’s angle and, after only six months, shops in France and Britain had bought licenses to sell her products. And they had recently signed a contract with one of the biggest retailers in the United States.