#Chapter 1
Fred basked in the glow of our guests' attention, mingling effortlessly in the living room while I busied myself setting the table. This was his night, a momentous occasion where he would step into his father's shoes as CEO of the family's cosmetics empire. Some shareholders harbored doubts, but those in the inner circle knew the truth – it was Fred's mother who possessed the true brilliance behind the operation. Silently, I kept these thoughts to myself. Fred deserved my unwavering support, without question. And he always received it, no matter the cost. With the final plate of chicken marsala perfectly arranged, I couldn't help but smile despite the gnawing pain in my empty stomach. It was worth it, if only to see Fred's happiness. "Dinner!" I called out, beckoning our guests from the living room. Soon, everyone gathered around the table, taking their designated seats. Fred's father gallantly pulled out a chair for his wife, and Fred mirrored the gesture for me before settling at the head of the table. Raising his glass of rosé, Fred initiated a toast. "I would like to express my gratitude to all of you for joining us tonight," he began, his voice filled with sincerity. "To the investors of Outer U, whose unwavering support has made this company thrive." Laughter echoed in response, a few men in black suits and somber ties acknowledging the sentiment with raised glasses. "To my dear friends and beloved family, who have shaped me into the person I am today." Fred's hand gently rested on his father's shoulder, followed by a tender kiss to his mother's hand. "And lastly, to my remarkable wife. Her unwavering dedication has sustained me through eight challenging years." Fred's gaze met mine, and I couldn't help but return the smile that graced his lips. Applause erupted, accompanied by the clinking of wine glasses. "Now, let us feast!" Fred declared, reclaiming his seat at the table.We were just about to savor our delectable entrée when a soft cough abruptly seized our attention. My gaze lifted, only to behold the presence of a familiar figure standing at the opposite end of the table: Violet, the proprietor of Violet's Majesties, a charming flower shop located a mere stone's throw away from our humble abode. Her exquisite bouquets adorned several vases scattered throughout our home. Petite in stature, with fiery red locks and a modest bosom, she possessed a certain beauty that blended seamlessly into a crowd. "Violet?" I was the first to break the silence. "What brings you here?" I wracked my brain but couldn't recall extending an invitation her way. "Well... I actually wanted to speak with Fred," she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. Clasping something tightly in one hand, her other hand remained concealed within the depths of her jacket pocket. My eyebrow arched inquisitively. "About what, exactly?" Violet's gaze shifted towards Fred, as if silently seeking his approval, before she raised her trembling hand to reveal a pregnancy test. "Fred, I'm pregnant." My heart skipped a beat. "Why would he have any interest in that?" A feeble smile graced Violet's lips. "It's his child, Fred. I'm carrying your baby." As if adding insult to injury, she withdrew her other hand from her pocket, revealing an ostentatious diamond ring. "And look at what my... husband has bestowed upon me!" My heart raced so fervently that my ribcage ached. This couldn't be real. I turned to Fred, desperately hoping for a different outcome. Please, let this be some cruel mistake. Deny it, I silently pleaded. Fred's jaw dropped, his utensils abandoned beside his untouched chicken. Without hesitation, he darted past me towards Violet, clasping her hand within his own. "I can't believe it. You're carrying our child!" His gaze fixated upon the ring adorning Violet's finger, a knowing smile gracing his lips. The wretched scoundrel. "Your... husband must truly adore you, to have presented you with such a precious gift." My racing heart shattered into a million pieces. Tears welled at the corners of my eyes. Surely, someone would come to my defense. But that person never materialized.Instead, the guests rose from their seats, applauding and offering their congratulations to the newlyweds—my husband and our talented florist. Inside, my heart ached, my emotions teetering on the edge of a precipice. All I could manage was a forced smile. Losing face was not an option at this point. I couldn't remain stagnant, watching everyone revel in the joyous atmosphere while I stood by as a mere servant. I took it upon myself to circulate, refilling glasses with wine that seemed to vanish with each passing moment. But then, a sudden pang gripped my stomach. It felt as if a horde of mischievous creatures were tearing away at the lining of my stomach. I hadn't eaten all day, and no one had offered to relieve me of my hosting duties. Fred, my husband, didn't seem to care, nor did his parents. The sight of them basking in the adoration of our guests, while I played the role of an invisible servant, became unbearable. The searing pain intensified, crawling its way up from my stomach and into my throat. I couldn't endure it any longer. With my bloated, tormented body, I stumbled out into the garden. Surely, no one would notice my absence. Fred knew about my recurring stomach problems, but he never truly cared. Leaning against the cool stone wall, I doubled over and dry-heaved. My stomach convulsed, but nothing came forth. Tears streamed down my face as I coughed and gagged, praying for relief from this torment. "Ma'am, are you alright?" a gentle voice inquired. The sound was achingly familiar, evoking memories of ice rinks, the scent of hockey gear, and early morning practices. Most importantly, it resurrected memories of him. Samuel. Tall and graceful, with the sinewy muscles required to maneuver in his hockey gear, he possessed a beauty that was impossible to ignore. I had harbored a crush on him during my days as a student, but I would never have mustered the courage to approach that godlike figure, let alone confess my feelings. No, it couldn't be Samuel standing before me now. And I certainly didn't want him to be Samuel. Not tonight, not in this moment of vulnerability. "Ma'am, are you alright?" he repeated, his hand resting firmly on my back. I looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face, yet darkness shrouded his features. "No, not really," I finally admitted."Is there anything I can do to assist you? Perhaps fetch you a glass of water?" I shook my head, my emotions too tangled to even consider hydration. "Anyone I can seek out on your behalf? Your husband, maybe?" My laughter cut through the air, bitter and laced with pain. "If only you could pry him away from his pregnant mistress." Recognition washed over the man's face like a revelation. "I apologize, Mrs.—" I interrupted, my voice weary. "Nora. Just call me Nora." Regret tinged his words as he continued, "I'm sorry, Nora. My words were thoughtless." I scoffed, the bitterness in my tone echoing Im's laughter. "Thoughtless? You're not the one he betrayed." The man's apology, however imperfect, offered a glimmer of solace. His hand found its way to my back, gently rubbing in comforting circles. "For what it's worth," he ventured, "I believe your husband is a fool." A forced laugh escaped my lips. "He may be right, though. We haven't been able to conceive. He blames me." Surprise flickered across the man's face. "Since when is he a doctor? Besides, not having children isn't the end of the world." I sighed, the weight of disappointment heavy in my chest. "It's the end of his world. Or rather, his family's legacy." The man's voice held a note of determination. "A true businessperson finds solutions, even in the face of adversity." I couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. "He found his solution. Violet." Silence enveloped us, the man's hand still a comforting presence on my back. It soothed the restless gremlins in my stomach, if only temporarily. "Feeling any better?" he inquired softly. I shivered as a gust of wind danced around us. Concern laced his words. "Are you cold?" I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "A little." Without hesitation, he shed his jacket and draped it across my shoulders. "Please, take it." My protests were cut short as the man insisted, his gesture a shield against the chill. His scent enveloped me as he leaned closer, his deep voice resonating within me. It stirred something unfamiliar deep within my core, a dampness that betrayed my desires. It was a sensation I had never experienced before. And in that moment, I couldn't help but wonder if he was Samuel. The man I had long fantasized about, longing for passionate nights that stretched into dawn.
#Chapter 2
Regret washed over me as I cursed myself for not seeing the signs. Clutching the mystery man's jacket tightly around me, I fought back tears that threatened to escape. "Are you alright?" the man inquired, concern etched across his face. His question must have been posed a million times before, but it felt comforting to have someone genuinely care. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "I'll be fine," I assured him, my voice wavering slightly. "You know, you're handling this remarkably well," he remarked, genuine surprise coloring his tone. "Am I?" I responded, uncertainty lacing my words. "Yeah. Most women in your position would've castrated their husbands without a second thought." A giggle escaped my lips, surprising even myself. "Why would I do that? I never had much use for them to begin with." The man burst into laughter, and the sound lifted the weight off my shoulders, releasing years of built-up tension. "I can imagine. He doesn't strike me as someone who is particularly impressive in that department." My laughter intensified until I snorted, a blush creeping up my cheeks. Embarrassed, I murmured an apology. "I'm so sorry about that." "Sorry for what? I found it endearing. You should laugh more often," he encouraged. "Yeah, it's just...my snorting is so embarrassing..." "No, it's not. It's adorable, like a little piglet," he reassured me. My blush deepened, spreading to my ears and neck, yet an unexpected sense of ease washed over me. I felt relaxed in his presence, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders. But then, to my surprise, the man began snorting like a pig himself. I motioned for him to quiet down, but instead, he grew louder, his laughter echoing through the air.After a minute of uncontrollable laughter, my sides ached and I couldn't help but snort. It was a rare moment where I didn't care about anything else. But my blissful moment was interrupted by a shout from the second-floor window. "Hey! What's going on down there?" It was Fred's brother, Stephen. In an instant, the laughter vanished, and my mind froze. Without even saying goodbye to my companion, I hastily retreated back inside, still draped in his jacket. * * I waited until all the guests had left, leaving only Fred's family and myself. Confronting him in front of others would have been embarrassing for both of us, even though I didn't care about people's opinions of Fred. I found him alone in his study, engrossed in a magazine. Taking a deep breath, I entered the room and positioned myself in front of him, waiting for him to acknowledge my presence. "Yes?" he asked, finally looking up at me. My fist clenched, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. The question burned within me, demanding to be asked. "Why did you cheat on me?" I managed to choke out, my voice trembling. Fred's gaze hardened, and a tense silence enveloped the room. We locked eyes, neither willing to back down, for what felt like an eternity. But before either of us could say another word, Stephen and Fred's parents burst into the room, breaking the tension. "What do you want, Stephen? Can't you see I'm having a private conversation with my wife?" Fred spat, his anger palpable. "It's about your wife," Stephen replied, crossing his arms over his chest and facing me directly. "I saw her having a rendezvous with another man in the garden." My jaw dropped, shock coursing through my veins. Fred's face slowly turned scarlet, a mix of disbelief and anger painted across his features. "She what? When?" he demanded, his voice filled with betrayal. "Tonight! I saw it with my own eyes. And look!" Stephen raised his hands, revealing the jacket of the man I had been talking to earlier. How did he even get that? Fred's piercing gaze never left me as Stephen continued, "This is the man's jacket. She was wearing it." I should have spoken up, explained that he was just a stranger, a guest at the dinner party. But fear and shock silenced me, rendering me unable to find my voice.I turned to Fred's parents, desperately seeking a glimmer of support, but their piercing gazes only mirrored Fred's accusation. The room seemed to shrink, suffocating me with its judgment. "You come in here, hurling accusations of infidelity," Fred began, his voice laced with betrayal, "when all this time, you've been the one cheating on me." "How dare you accuse my baby of such a thing!" Fred's mother shrieked, her voice shrill and filled with indignation. "And to think, you had the audacity to engage in your little tryst while we had guests over," Fred's father added, his voice dripping with disdain. My voice trembled as I tried to speak, "I...please..." "Just stop, Nora," Fred interrupted, his tone cold and dismissive. "I don't want to hear your excuses." Fred paused, as if contemplating his next move. A chilling realization settled in my bones. "The only solution now is for Violet to move in. The least you can do is let me take care of my child," he said, his words slicing through me like shards of glass. Fury surged within me, my nails digging into my palm, leaving imprints as a reminder of my pain. "No! There's no way that your mistress—" "Well, maybe if you could get pregnant, then my son wouldn't have needed to find other options," Fred's mother snapped, her words dripping with venom. "He carries a legacy on his shoulders, one that you obviously can't help him pass on." My instincts propelled me towards the door, but Stephen blocked my path, trapping me in this hellish confrontation. "I mean, has there always been something wrong with you?" Fred's mother continued, her voice filled with scorn. "Why didn't you tell us earlier? Just waiting to latch onto our wealth?" Tears streamed down my cheeks, my stomach twisted in knots. The gremlins of doubt gnawed relentlessly at my insides, but I refused to let them see me crumble. "If you want to remain a part of this family," Fred's father demanded, his tone authoritative, "you must find a doctor and seek help for your infertility immediately." Through the haze of tears, I strained to see Fred and his family. A throbbing vein pulsed on my forehead, and the gremlins clawed their way up my throat, threatening to choke me. "You—" I coughed, my voice hoarse. "You will not—" Another cough interrupted my words."You will not dictate what I do with my own body," I declared defiantly, my voice trembling with anger and determination. But before I could continue, a violent cough shook my frail frame, forcing me to pause. Blood stained my hand as darkness consumed me, stealing away my consciousness. * * Gradually, I regained awareness, my senses assaulted by the harsh fluorescent lights and sterile scent of a hospital room. The incessant beeping of medical equipment filled the air, a constant reminder that I was still alive, despite my fragile state. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, my gaze fell upon a vase of vibrant carnations, accompanied by a cuddly teddy bear and a heartfelt get-well card. Evelyn, my loyal friend, must have left them here. The sight brought a flicker of a smile to my lips, but it quickly faded as the carnations reminded me of Violet, the unfaithful florist. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Hayes," a man in a doctor's attire introduced himself, approaching my bedside. Jude Morris, his salt-and-pepper hair complementing his kind, deep blue eyes. "I am Jude Morris. How are you feeling?" "Fine, I suppose. Thirsty," I replied, my voice weak yet determined. "Allow me," he said, leaning over to retrieve a glass of water from the bedside table. Guiding the straw to my parched lips, he assisted me in taking a few sips before placing it back down. "Mrs. Hayes—" "Please, call me Nora," I interrupted, wanting to establish a sense of familiarity amidst the uncertainty. "Nora, I regret to inform you that you have stomach cancer," Jude Morris delivered the devastating news gently, his voice filled with empathy. The blood drained from my face, leaving me pale and speechless. "Stomach cancer? How is that possible?" I managed to whisper, disbelief coloring my words. "Although it may be difficult to comprehend, there are various treatment options available. I will refer you to an oncologist who can guide you through the process," Jude explained, his voice steady and compassionate. Numbly, I nodded, only partially registering the doctor's words. Stomach cancer. The reality of the diagnosis began to sink in, casting a shadow over my thoughts. "Is there someone you would like me to contact? An emergency contact?" Jude inquired, concern etched on his features. Shaking my head vehemently, I pleaded, "No, please don't inform anyone about this. I beg you." Jude's gaze met mine, his eyes filled with understanding. Without uttering a word, he acknowledged my request. A sudden knock echoed through the room, diverting our attention to the door.Fred lingered in the doorway, his presence casting a shadow over the room. Jude Morris, with a questioning look in his eyes, sought my approval before motioning Fred towards my bedside. "I'm Nora's husband," Fred announced, his voice carrying a tinge of bitterness. Jude Morris, sensing the tension in the air, placed his pen down firmly on his clipboard. "I was just discussing your wife's diagnosis," he explained, his tone tinged with caution. "Give me a minute," Fred muttered, turning his attention to me. "I want a divorce." Jude Morris shot Fred a disapproving glare, his frustration evident. "Sir, this is hardly the appropriate time for such discussions. Your wife has just received—" "Doctor, please," I interjected, my voice pleading. I needed a moment alone with Fred. Jude Morris hesitated, studying my face before finally relenting. "Very well," he conceded. "A nurse will be by shortly, and I will return to continue our conversation before the hour is up." With a final scowl directed at Fred, Jude Morris exited the room, leaving us in a fragile bubble of privacy, only the distant murmurs of the other patient serving as background noise. Fred opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. "I agree to the divorce." Surprise flickered across Fred's face, his initial confidence replaced by confusion. "Oh. Well, good then. Sam will bring the papers later today, I suppose." He made a move towards the door, then turned back to face me, his gaze filled with suspicion. "Are you planning to move in with that man you were meeting in the garden?" My eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. "What? Why would you even think that? I just found out about the divorce." Fred scoffed, his bitterness seeping through his words. "Well, it seems you've been cheating on me for quite some time now, so—" "Cheating on you?" I interrupted, my voice tinged with incredulity. "Your mistress is pregnant, Fred!" A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I continued, my frustration bubbling to the surface. "That doesn't excuse your own indiscretions. And let's not forget your lackluster performance in bed. It's hard to react to something that doesn't exist." The room fell silent, the weight of our words hanging heavy in the air. The unraveling of our marriage had reached a breaking point, and there was no turning back.
#Chapter 3
"Make sure you come get your things once they release you, or I'll leave them on the lawn," he spat, pointing a finger in my direction. Fred left before I could respond, his exit leaving behind a trail of unresolved tension. The nurse, intrigued by the encounter, couldn't help but inquire, "That your husband?" I shook my head, a mix of relief and bitterness flooding my heart. "Ex. Soon to be," I admitted, the weight of those words lifting a burden off my shoulders. The nurse offered a sympathetic smile, her eyes filled with understanding. "Honey, I don't know the whole situation, but from what I just saw, you are much better off without him." Her words resonated deep within me, a glimmer of hope amidst the pain. A grateful grin tugged at the corners of my lips, though the ache in my heart persisted. "Thank you," I whispered, appreciating her kindness. Before I could dwell further on my complicated emotions, a familiar melodic voice called out from the doorway, interrupting my thoughts. "Don't tell me you started the party without me?" A genuine laugh escaped my lips, though it pained my still-recovering stomach. "Never without you. You're the life of the party!" I exclaimed, turning to greet my beautiful best friend, Evelyn. She stood there, a vision of vibrant energy, dressed modestly yet stylishly in blue yoga pants and a matching tank top. Her long, sun-kissed blonde hair cascaded down her back in a braid, and her infectious smile illuminated the room. Evelyn rushed over to me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, providing a sense of comfort and security. "What happened? You had me so scared. Never do that to me again!" she scolded, her worry evident in her voice. I mustered a feeble attempt at reciprocating the embrace, allowing Evelyn to ramble on as long as possible. Anything to delay the inevitable moment when I would have to reveal what had transpired. How could I even begin to explain it? "Well, are you going to tell me or not?" Evelyn finally questioned, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. I let out a weary sigh, my mind racing to find the right words. "It's a long story," I began, knowing that the truth was far more complex than a simple explanation could convey. "Like I'm going anywhere?" Evelyn retorted playfully, her eyes filled with genuine concern. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the difficult conversation ahead. "I...got stressed, and I guess my stomach couldn't handle it, causing me to faint," I admitted, choosing my words carefully. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. Curiosity etched across Evelyn's face as she probed further, her voice gentle yet persistent. "What were you so stressed about?" Here it was, the moment of truth. The moment when I would reveal the shattered fragments of my once-happy life. "Fred cheated on me," I confessed, the weight of those words hanging heavy in the air."We're getting divorced," I whispered, the words heavy with sadness and resignation. "What?" Evelyn's voice rang out, filled with anger and disbelief. The nurse shot us a stern look, gesturing for us to lower our voices as she attended to another patient. We obediently complied, but the emotions in the room were still palpable. "He impregnated Violet," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "Violet of Violet's Majesties, that flower shop near our house." Evelyn's eyes widened in shock. "Seriously? A florist? Don't tell me he had the audacity to bring you flowers afterward?" I buried my face in my hands, feeling the weight of betrayal pressing down on me. How did it all come to this? Evelyn's gaze fell upon the carnations that adorned the hospital room. Her voice softened, filled with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, if I had known—" I quickly interrupted her, not wanting her to blame herself. "Please, don't apologize. I love the flowers. It's not your fault." Her eyes narrowed, her anger resurfacing. "Well, what else did that scumbag do?" I hesitated, the pain of the revelation still fresh in my mind. "He accused me of cheating," I admitted, my voice trembling. "Just because Stephen saw me talking with some guy in the garden during our dinner party." Evelyn let out a sound that was a mix of frustration and amusement. "So, you cheated because you talked to some man at a party? And what exactly would he call getting a woman who's not your wife pregnant?" I shrugged, feeling the weight of the situation crushing my spirit. "I don't even know anymore." A fire ignited in Evelyn's eyes, her protective instincts taking over. "I swear, the next time I see Fred, I'll clock him," she said, mimicking a punch. She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You know that I'm always here for you, right?" I reached out and covered her hand with mine, feeling the warmth of her support. My heart swelled with gratitude. I vowed to myself that I wouldn't cry, not again, not even in joy. "Thank you, Evelyn," I whispered, my voice filled with genuine appreciation. "You don't know how much that means to me." I knew deep down that I could always count on Evelyn. Our bond had been forged long ago, back in school when we first met through our shared love of hockey. On and off the rink, we had each other's backs. It didn't matter that Evelyn came from a wealthy background or that her uncle was the school's hockey coach. Well, maybe the latter did matter a little, because her uncle was Samuel. Samuel. My mind wandered to the man I had spoken to in the garden, the one who had smelled like Samuel. No one else needed to know about that connection, about the memories it stirred within me. • * * A week later, I was finally discharged from the hospital. The days had been a blur of observations, tests, and appointments with the oncologist. But now, as I stepped out into the world, I couldn't help but feel a mix of trepidation and hope for what lay ahead.Regrettably, the oncologist's prognosis didn't align with the more hopeful outlook of the gastroenterologist. Terminal. The weight of that word reverberated through my mind as the Uber pulled up to what used to be my sanctuary. If only I had heeded the warnings of my aching stomach, if only I hadn't sacrificed my well-being for a family that cared little for my fate... now, my treatment options were scarce, perhaps even nonexistent. I sat in the car long after the driver had parked, my grip on the door handle unwavering. Violet was inside, I could sense it. Yet, I couldn't evade my demons indefinitely. Summoning the courage, I finally stepped foot into the house, only to be confronted by the sight I dreaded. Violet had scattered her belongings across every inch of space, where I needed to gather my own. And this was not the Violet I recognized. Gone was the gentle, unassuming Violet who tended to the flower shop. In her place stood a woman confined by form-fitting jeans and a tight halter top that accentuated her curves. A smirk played upon Violet's lips as she silently observed me collecting my possessions. I attempted to ignore her, to shut out the world, as I packed my suitcase, toiletry bag, and a duffel bag. I hoped I could trust them not to tamper with anything I couldn't fit into these bags until our lawyers could handle the settlement. I would prioritize the most significant items, just in case. As I bent over to retrieve a fallen bra, I felt a man's hand squeeze my voluptuous rear. I gasped, my body tensing. When I spun around, Stephen's hand was already retreating. Embarrassment flushed my cheeks. This wasn't the first time he had tried to touch me inappropriately, but it would certainly be the last. I recoiled and struck Stephen across his smug face with all my might. "Ow! What the hell was that for?" he yelped, clutching his stinging cheek. Fred and his parents burst into the room, alarmed. "What happened?" Fred inquired, his concern evident.Stephen burst into the room, his face twisted with anger. "Your ex, that bitch, slapped me!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with indignation. I closed my suitcase and placed it beside the other bags, frustration simmering within me. "He touched my ass!" I snapped, my voice laced with exhaustion. "I'm sick and tired of it." Stephen's eyes narrowed. "So you thought slapping him was the answer?" I nodded, my gaze sweeping across the room, searching for any sign of understanding. But all I found were indifferent expressions. "Yes, I defended myself," I said, my voice tinged with bitterness. "I can't rely on anyone else to stand up for me around here." I glanced at each of them in turn, their faces devoid of sympathy. A surge of determination coursed through me. "Forget it," I declared, turning to Fred. "My lawyer will be in touch to discuss the division of our property." Fred's face drained of color, fear flickering in his eyes. For a brief moment, I relished the power that fear bestowed upon me. But then reality crashed over me, reminding me of the insignificance of revenge. It tasted bitter and empty. "Don't worry," I continued, my voice softer now. "We'll each receive what rightfully belongs to us. Nothing less." The others stood there, stunned by my unexpected response. I knew what they were thinking, assuming I would be vengeful and seek every penny Fred possessed. But I couldn't summon that vindictiveness within me, not now. Stephen was the first to recover, sauntering up to me with a sly grin. He wrapped his arm around my waist, his touch repulsive. "You know," he murmured, his voice dripping with suggestive intent, "I could help you get more than just what belongs to you..." I forcefully removed his hand from my hip and grabbed my bags. "No, thank you," I spat, my voice filled with disdain. But Stephen refused to let go, gripping my arm tightly. "Come on," he persisted, his voice oozing with desire. "There must be something you want." I struggled to free myself from his grasp, frustration boiling within me. "I said no," I hissed through gritted teeth. Stephen's grip remained unyielding, his eyes roaming over my body with a sickening hunger. Disgust churned in my stomach, threatening to overwhelm me. "I said NO!" I shouted, ripping my arm away and accidentally elbowing Stephen in the jaw. He howled in pain, clutching his jaw and shooting me a venomous glare. After a moment, he clenched his fist, his face contorted with rage. "You fucking bitch," he seethed, raising his fist threateningly. Desperation flooded my eyes as they darted between Fred, his family, and Violet. But no one moved, their inaction a crushing blow.
#Chapter 4
"Hey, Evelyn," I uttered softly, my gratitude palpable. All eyes turned towards the doorway, where Evelyn stood, her phone's camera locked on Stephen. She appeared like a superhero fresh out of the gym, clad in designer sweats, a sports bra, and a light jacket, her high ponytail adding an extra touch of fierceness. With her free hand planted firmly on her hip, she approached the room, phone still raised, positioning herself between Stephen and me. The intensity in her gaze challenged him, daring him to cross her path and face the consequences. "Just so you know, I'm live-streaming this right now, so everyone better think twice before doing anything stupid," she warned, leaning closer to me. "Are you alright?" I nodded, relief flooding through me. "Yeah, thankfully, he didn't manage to land a punch. He just... touched me." "Excuse me?" Evelyn's voice rose to a piercing shriek. "And no one did a damn thing about it?" "I slapped him," I confessed, a hint of pride lacing my words. "Good for you, but what about everyone else?" Her tone simmered with frustration. "No one stepped in." "That's it. I've had enough of these people." Evelyn shot me a look, a familiar glint in her eyes. I knew that look all too well. Evelyn was about to take action. Oh no, I silently panicked, she's actually going to do it. We discussed it last night, but I explicitly told her I didn't want to humiliate them-- "So, Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, Fred," Evelyn sneered, directing her phone towards them, "I'm willing to bet you think you know everything about Fred's new love interest over there, don't you?" Evelyn aimed her camera at Violet, who instinctively tried to shrink away, seeking refuge near the closet.It was as if Violet had transformed into her old self from the flower shop, but it was too late for that now. In all honesty, I wasn't sure if I even felt any remorse over it. Mr. Hayes questioned, "Everything? We just met the young lass. I doubt that we know everything—" "Well," Evelyn interrupted, disregarding Mr. Hayes' words, "it turns out that Ms. Florist over there isn't just a florist." She paused, relishing in the suspense. "She's an escort!" Evelyn turned her attention back to Fred and his parents, eagerly awaiting their reactions. Mrs. Hayes seemed on the verge of collapsing onto the floor, and Mr. Hayes struggled to steady her. As for Fred, his face drained of color, mirroring his mother's distress. I stole a glance at Stephen. He seemed to be looking at Violet with newfound appreciation, the same kind he used to reserve for me. Suddenly, a pang of remorse and pity for the so-called homewrecker washed over me, albeit briefly. "Yes, a bought-and-paid-for escort!" Evelyn exclaimed, clearly enjoying herself a bit too much. "What do you all have to say to that?" Silence. "Speechless now, are we? Maybe you don't believe me? Because I can tell you the name and number of the service—" "No!" Mrs. Hayes interjected, having regained her composure. "No. I just can't believe that my son would do something like this to poor, poor Nora." "Yes, it's a downright shame," Mr. Hayes chimed in. "My only hope is that she will be able to heal from all this and have the happy life that she deserves." A wave of bile rose in my throat. Who were these people, and what had they done with my in-laws? Then it hit me. The reason for their sudden change in behavior: the camera. Of course.Evelyn, the internet sensation, couldn't afford to risk her reputation by allowing herself to be associated with such blatant phoniness on her TikTok. She knew her followers would see right through the act, and she had no intention of deceiving them any further. Personally, I couldn't agree more. The sickly sweet facade was becoming too much for my stomach to bear. I longed for authenticity and honesty, not this sugar-coated charade that had become our lives. Fred, finally recovering from his sudden realization about Violet, mustered the courage to speak. "I know what I did was horrible, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday." I couldn't help but scoff internally at his words. This was by far the worst apology yet, and it took all my strength not to vomit on the spot. I needed to distance myself from these deceitful individuals, the phonies and hypocrites who had brought nothing but pain into my life. "Do you even have a place to stay?" Fred persisted, clearly oblivious to the weight of his actions. Enough was enough. I rolled my eyes, determined to put an end to this farce once and for all. "You don't care, and honestly, I don't care if you do," I retorted, reaching for my bags. "But I do care—" Fred began, only to be interrupted by Evelyn. "No, he doesn't," she interjected on my behalf. "If he did, he wouldn't have cheated on her in the first place." Fred stammered, his face turning as pale as a pig's liver. "W-what do you mean?" I shot a glare at Violet, my voice dripping with disdain. "You know exactly what I mean." Violet's eyes widened in realization, her fingers nervously playing with the diamond ring adorning her hand. It spun round and round, a physical representation of the whirlwind of deceit that had consumed our lives. * * * Leaving behind the only home I had known for the past eight years should have brought a tinge of sadness. But instead, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. No longer would I be shackled to the Hayes family, their lies and hypocrisy. This departure marked a new beginning, free from their toxic influence. I took one final glance at the house that had once been my sanctuary.I gazed one last time at the colossal Southern Antebellum-style mansion, a structure that had never truly aligned with my aesthetic sensibilities. It loomed over the landscape, an imposing monolith that demanded constant attention and care. For years, it had been a relentless source of stress, a burden I was now relieved to leave behind. Now, my humble abode would be a modest one-bedroom apartment, a sanctuary that suited my solitary existence perfectly. No longer burdened by the weight of an extravagant residence, I could finally breathe freely. Little did I know, however, that this newfound tranquility would be shattered by the cruel grip of stomach cancer. "Come on, slowpoke!" Evelyn's voice pierced the silence, snapping me out of my reverie. With a heavy heart, I turned away from the mansion, bidding farewell to the memories and burdens it held. Upon my arrival, I swiftly dismissed the Uber driver, knowing that Evelyn would soon arrive. As expected, her vibrant Lamborghini occupied the driveway, but what caught my attention was the sleek and captivating presence of a black Rolls Royce nestled behind it. Behind the wheel sat a man whose striking appearance seemed oddly familiar. He exuded an air of elegance, his face concealed behind a pair of sunglasses. Something about him stirred a distant recollection within me, like a whisper of forgotten memories. And then I saw them: cufflinks adorned with a lion's head, the very same ones I had observed on the suit of a man I had met at a dinner party a week ago. The image of the lion's fiery mane etched itself into my mind. An involuntary groan escaped my lips as I realized the implications. "Evelyn," I muttered, barely audible, "whose car is that?" Evelyn's smile widened, and she seized me by the wrist, pulling me eagerly towards the Rolls Royce. In my haste, I abandoned my bags on the walkway, surrendering to Evelyn's firm grip. As we approached the vehicle, she introduced me to the man inside. "Samuel, this is Nora, my dearest friend," Evelyn declared, her voice tinged with excitement. She turned to face me, her eyes sparkling. "Nora, you remember my uncle, Samuel."
#Chapter 5
I swallowed hard, attempting to steady the racing of my heart before finding my voice. "Nice to meet you, Samuel—" "Green. Samuel Green," he interjected smoothly, his voice resonating with a depth that sent tremors down to the very core of my being. But I refused to succumb to the overwhelming rush of hormones, determined not to let myself be swayed like some infatuated teenager. What we had felt in the past was irrelevant now. "That's right, Samuel Green. Nice to meet you," I responded, feigning casualness as if this were our first introduction. Deep down, I hoped my voice wouldn't betray the inferno raging within me, igniting a fire both in my stomach and below. Samuel turned to Evelyn, seeking solace in her bewildered shrug. It was evident that this wasn't the reaction she had anticipated, but I prayed she wouldn't push it any further. He shifted his gaze back to me, removing his sunglasses with a deliberate grace. I struggled to suppress my visceral response upon seeing his complete face. Those intense chocolate-brown eyes and those perfectly pouty lips, it was no wonder his visage graced the covers of countless magazines. And then there was Isabella, his stunning international model wife, whose beauty adorned billboards in cities like New York and Los Angeles. With her devilishly curvaceous hips, ample bosom, and a sinfully slim waist, she made Samuel the envy of every man alive. Of course, his wealth played a part too. As the heir to the Green family fortune, Samuel ranked as the third richest person in the world, his control over an unimaginable wealth unmatched.Their involvement extended to every possible endeavor, their influence reaching far and wide. But I rarely dwelled on him anymore. My attention shifted to the lion-shaped cufflinks adorning his wrists, a sight that made me shake my head in disbelief. No, I thought. No, Samuel couldn't be the same man from that night. It seemed impossible. Suddenly, his hand interrupted my train of thought, drawing my focus back to the present. "It's nice to meet you as well, Nora," he began, only to be swiftly cut off by my interjection. "Hayes. Well, I suppose it's Nora Bryant now." The realization dawned on me that I would have to readjust to using my maiden name once again. It felt foreign on my tongue, unfamiliar and detached. His eyes narrowed in confusion, Samuel sought clarification. "What do you mean, it's Bryant now?" I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the conversation ahead. "I mean that my husband and I are getting divorced." Samuel nodded, acknowledging my words but refraining from commenting further. There was an air of distance about him, even more so than when he was Coach Samuel. I reassured myself that he couldn't possibly be the same man from that fateful night. Evelyn, always one to speak her mind, couldn't resist adding her opinion. "I say she's better off without him. Her husband is a scoundrel, and his family is just as despicable," she spat with venom. I countered her statement, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Well, every couple faces their fair share of problems." Samuel chimed in, his voice calm and measured. "Indeed, they do." Evelyn rolled her eyes at our attempts to downplay the situation. "Anyway," she continued, turning her attention back to me, "I'm staying at Uncle Samuel's house for a few days. Thought I'd bring him along as backup." "Backup?" I questioned, my curiosity piqued. "Yes, you know, just in case," she responded, her tone suggesting there was more to the story. The notion that Evelyn felt the need for backup around Fred and his family unsettled me. How long had she harbored this fear without confiding in me? But then again, hadn't I sought the same reassurance when I asked Evelyn to be my backup? "In case of what?" I asked cautiously, my apprehension growing. "Oh, I don't know, maybe your brother-in-law attempting to strike you," she replied nonchalantly. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her dramatic flair."You handled that situation quite adeptly on your own. You and your loyal followers, that is," I remarked, impressed by Evelyn's ability to navigate the chaos. Evelyn beamed, her satisfaction evident. "I certainly did, didn't I? Who would have thought social media could be so useful?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Come on, let's retrieve my bags. You made me drop them back there." We retraced our steps along the walkway, each of us grabbing a few of my bags to transport to the waiting Lamborghini. As we neared the car, an unwelcome voice pierced through the air, calling out my name. "Nora! Nora!" I turned my head reluctantly, dreading the source of the interruption. "What now?" Evelyn muttered, clearly exasperated. "It's Fred," I sighed, my frustration mounting. "Good Lord, what does he want?" Evelyn questioned, annoyance coloring her tone. "I haven't the faintest idea." "Nora, wait, please!" Fred's voice pleaded desperately from behind us. We allowed him a moment to catch his breath before gesturing for him to speak his piece. "Nora, I'm truly sorry. I can't even fathom why I brought up the divorce," Fred's eyes widened, attempting to convey sincerity. "Perhaps because you were engaging in infidelity?" Evelyn interjected with biting sarcasm. Fred disregarded her remark, his focus solely on me. "Please, Nora, I regret asking for a divorce. I genuinely do." "No, what you truly regret is the prospect of dividing your assets," Evelyn retorted, shaking her head as she tossed my bags into the car. "Let's go." I felt my patience waning rapidly. "Fred, just leave." "Nora—" Fred reached out, grasping my hand with both of his, desperation etched across his face. "Please, please forgive me. I was foolish, not thinking straight—" "No, you never do," I interrupted, my voice trembling with emotion. Tears welled up in my eyes, betraying my vulnerability. Damn it, I thought I had shed my last tear for him. I cursed myself internally for allowing him to affect me once more. "Things can go back to how they were before—" Fred's plea was cut short by my sharp retort. "What? With you cheating on me?" I yanked my hand away from his grasp, refusing to let him touch me again."I know that neither of us really want this," I said, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "Really? Because the more we stand here talking about it, the more that I want it," he replied, his tone filled with determination. His words struck a chord within me, resonating with a truth I couldn't deny. Deep down, I knew that going back to him was not what I truly desired. "You have no idea what you're getting into going back into the world. Alone and single, you'll be eaten alive—" "It sure as hell will be better than staying with you," I interrupted, my voice laced with defiance. In a sudden burst of anger, Fred grabbed onto my forearm and pulled me closer to him. Fear gripped me as I realized how desperate he had become. This was not the cowardly man I once knew. I struggled to break free from his grip, but his hold only tightened. Panic started to rise within me. What might he do in his desperation? Before I could fully comprehend the situation, Samuel's commanding voice cut through the tension. "Get out of my way and don't touch my woman," he declared, ripping Fred's hand off my arm. I turned to look at Samuel, surprised by his protective stance. His words echoed in my mind, "my woman." It was a possessive statement, but one that didn't make me recoil. In fact, it sent a thrill through me. As if sensing my thoughts, Samuel glanced at me from the corner of his eye. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and drew me closer to him. The familiar scent of sweat, pine, and hockey gear enveloped me, reminding me of the night our paths first crossed. But I quickly reminded myself that he was not the same man anymore. I couldn't let myself be swayed by nostalgia or temporary safety. Despite the temptation to rest my head against Samuel's shoulder, I fought the urge. Instead, I stood tall, determined not to give Fred the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. Fred's mouth moved wordlessly, his shock rendering him speechless. "You...you're...are you Samuel Green? Billionaire Samuel?" he finally managed to stammer out. Samuel's gaze hardened as he met Fred's bewildered eyes. "Yes, I am. And she's mine now," he declared, his voice filled with unwavering certainty. In that moment, I knew that I had made the right choice. With Samuel by my side, I felt a sense of safety and belonging I had never experienced in Fred's embrace.
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