Novels by samuelchristineonye

I sat in my usual spot by the window, sipping a cup of hot coffee in the plain hope that it would calm my erratic heartbeat. I gazed at the clock. 10:17 a.m. Honestly, I was extremely anxious. The thought that today, I would finally find out who Ethan was having an affair with, kept me up all night. When all this is over, I’ll book myself a nice vacation. But for now, I need to uncover Ethan’s mystery woman, and then hire a divorce lawyer. I don't even care for his properties. I want an out. The entrance door opened and Ethan walked in with a sleeping Layla in his arms. “Ethan…” “I was asked to get my ass back home.” He interrupted. Asked? I immediately recalled Mr.Jacobs’ words to the driver last night. What's his connection to Ethan? “I’ll officially move into the guest room.” He continued. “Don't you want to clear things up?” I asked. Although I knew he was cheating, a tiny part of me wanted to hear him at least deny it, or make some excuse. But as he stood in front o

I woke up with a headache and an itchy throat. I’d spent more than half of the night bawling my eyes out, but somehow, I managed to fall asleep. I turned to look at the clock, wincing as pain surged through my head. 10:01 a.m. Sighing, I got out of bed and headed downstairs to take painkillers. “Good morning Ma’am,” the housekeeper greeted me. “Bring me the painkillers and please make me a bowl of chicken soup,” I said. I had barely eaten yesterday, and I could feel a bellyache coming on. Sitting by the window, I looked outside, staring at nothing in particular. “Ma’am?” The housekeeper called out, looking at me with concern. I had spaced out for quite some time but it felt like it had only been a minute. She held out a tray with the chicken soup, a bottle of painkillers, and a glass of water. “Thank you. Um… Did Ethan come home at any point?” I asked, taking a spoonful of chicken soup. She shook her head. “No, ma’am. But, Sir did call. He said to let you know, L

I got home at exactly 4 p.m. Usually, the house would have been filled with Layla’s bubbly voice, but it was eerily quiet. I called out to the housekeeper. She rushed out from the kitchen and hurried towards me. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Vance,” she said, taking my purse from me. “Where's Layla?” “Sir dropped her off at the family house.” “What did she have for breakfast?” I asked, walking towards the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. “Miss Moore made pancakes and eggs for breakfast.” I paused with the glass of water mid-air. “Sophia was here?” I asked, glancing at her. “Yes, ma’am. Sir asked her to come. She helped Layla get ready, and made breakfast before they left.” I took a sip of water. “This morning?” She nodded. “I assumed it was for one of Layla’s lessons since she skipped school today.” I stared at her for a moment. “Alright then, prepare pasta with shrimp sauce for dinner.” “Okay, ma’am,” she said, as I turned to walk upstairs. Once in my room, I pulled

I winced as fragments of the previous night flickered through my mind. With each passing second, the pain grew more unbearable. Last night… I drove away with no particular destination in mind. Yet somehow, I managed to find myself parked outside a bar. I walked in and sat at the counter. “What would you like, Miss?” the bartender asked me. “A shot of tequila, and a shot of whiskey.” Just for tonight, I didn't want to care anymore about the photograph, the note, Eleanor, Ethan, or the possibility that everything I believed in was a lie. “Miss?” he asked. He studied my face for a moment before reaching for the bottles. He placed my drinks in front of me and I wasted no time taking a shot. The alcohol burned its way down my throat, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue. It was oddly satisfying. I urged the bartender to pour me another shot, and another. At some point, I lost count of how many shots I'd had. The bartender’s voice slowly became distant, while the loud music and dan

I sat by the window, watching the clock hit 10 a.m. In the past, sitting by the window gave me a quiet comfort. But today, it gave me nothing. I hadn't slept all night, not even for a second. Every time I closed my eyes, I was taken back to the photo. Red Heels. Eleanor. I didn't want to believe it, but I had gifted those shoes to Eleanor myself. They were custom-made especially for her. Between last night and this morning, I had looked at the photo more times than I wanted to. I kept zooming in and out, studying it intensely, hoping and searching for something, anything, to prove that it wasn't Eleanor. It couldn't be her. It shouldn't be. Eleanor has been my best friend since forever; we grew up as kids together. She knew me in more ways than one. She was bold, confident, and brutally honest. She was always the first to tell me if I was making a bad decision. And if I did it anyway, she would never let me deal with the consequences alone. Eleanor had always been my protect

The next morning, after dropping off Layla at school, I drove to Vance Capital. I made lunch for Ethan. I stepped into the elevator, and just as the doors were shutting, someone called out. “Hold the elevator!” I pressed the door-open button. The doors were just inches apart. “Thank you so much.” I knew that voice too well. I looked up and was met with a familiar face. Claire. She wasn't just Ethan’s best friend’s sister; she was also his secretary. “Oh, hi Mia.” She smiled sweetly. “Hi, Claire.” “Here for Ethan?” Her eyes darted to the lunch bag in my hand. I nodded. “Ethan’s currently in a meeting. I'll go in and let him know you're waiting,” she said just as the elevator doors opened. “Thank you, Claire,” I replied, stepping out of the elevator. I walked over to Ethan’s office, pushed the doors open and stepped inside. His work table was visibly scattered with files. I placed the lunch bag on the table and proceeded to put the files in order. While cleaning up his