CH 2

Nora Hastings

“That’s enough. Let’s go home.”

Sonya dropped several hundred-dollar bills on the table, then slipped an arm around me and helped me out of the bar.

She drove me home, helped me into bed, and changed me into something comfortable. Then, she made me a cup of red ginger tea to ease my hangover. Those were the last things I remembered before sleep finally claimed me and carried me through the rest of the night.

Morning arrived with a thin shaft of sunlight slipping through the gap in the curtains.

I slowly opened my eyes, wincing at the dull ache in my head. After struggling to sit up against the headboard, I reached for the cup of ginger tea Sonya had left beside me and took a cautious sip.

A small piece of paper lay next to it.

I picked it up and recognized Sonya’s handwriting immediately.

Don’t forget to drink your tea. Love you.

Thank God she had been there last night. I didn’t know what might have happened if I’d been left alone with my grief.

Now that the alcohol had worn off and the initial shock had settled, I had no choice but to face reality.

If I wanted to divorce Ryan, I needed to be financially independent.

That was easier said than done.

Ryan paid all of my mother’s medical expenses, which amounted to an astonishing fifty thousand dollars every month. There was no way I could cover those bills on my own, not yet.

I reached for my phone and scrolled through my contacts, searching for a lead on a job. The more I thought about it, the more hopeless it seemed. I hadn’t realized finding work could be so difficult.

Then I remembered Sonya.

She had inherited several companies. Surely, there might be a position I could fill. I pressed her number and waited through several rings.

“Sonya.” I tried to sound composed, but my voice cracked slightly.

“Are you okay? Is your head still pounding?” she asked worriedly.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, although the ache in my head said otherwise. “Just a little hungover.”

I bit my lip, struggling to find the courage to ask what I needed.

“Sonya, I need a job. Do you have any vacancies at one of your companies?”

“Are you sure you’re going through with the divorce?” she asked. “I have several positions available that might suit your qualifications. Get everything ready and come see me when you can.”

“Yes. I’ve decided.” My voice grew firmer. “I can’t live with infidelity. Thank you, Sonya. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“You don’t have to repay me. I’m happy to help.”

After we hung up, I sat quietly for a moment, holding my phone against my chest. For the first time since discovering Ryan’s betrayal, a tiny spark of hope flickered inside me.

I could do this.

I could leave him and build a life of my own.

I climbed out of bed and began packing. My hands moved mechanically as I folded clothes and placed them into a suitcase. Then I opened a dresser drawer to retrieve some belongings. That’s when I found our marriage certificate.

My fingers trembled as I lifted it.

July 7. Five years ago.

I could still remember that day as clearly as if it had happened the day before. When the clerk handed us the certificate, Ryan’s hands had trembled so badly that he’d nearly dropped it. He’d taken it with such care, as though it were made of pure gold.

Then I heard a car engine downstairs. My heart lurched. A moment later, footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Baby, I’m home!” Ryan’s cheerful voice carried through the house.

Panic surged through me. I shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer and hurriedly wiped my eyes. My suitcase sat open on the bed, its contents spilling over the sides. I couldn’t let him see it.

The door swung open.

Ryan appeared in the doorway, looking as radiant as the morning sunshine. Before I could move away, he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

Once, his embrace had been the safest place in the world. Now, his arms felt like a trap.

My stomach twisted. I fought the urge to wrench myself free, forcing my body to remain still while every instinct screamed at me to get away from him.

“Did you miss me?” he whispered against my ear. A shiver crawled down my spine. I swallowed my disgust and kept my voice cold.

“Where were you?”

“I’m sorry, baby.” His tone was warm and apologetic, as smooth as ever. “Work was crazy yesterday, and I ended up falling asleep at the office. I might have missed our anniversary, but I never forgot it.”

The lie rolled off his tongue so effortlessly. I clenched my fists at my sides.

Ryan, apparently oblivious to the hatred building inside me, reached into his pocket and pulled out a jewelry box.

“Look what I brought you.”

He opened it.

Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the light from the bedroom lamps, scattering tiny rainbows across the wall.

“Turn around,” he said, his eyes shining with satisfaction. “Let me put it on you.”

Ryan fastened the necklace around my neck. His fingers brushed my skin, and I had to suppress a shudder.

“There.” He stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Perfect.”

His satisfaction was unmistakable. He looked at me as though he’d just given me the world.

“Tomorrow night is Grandma’s birthday party. The whole family will be there. With this necklace, you’ll be the center of attention.”

“Do I really have to go?” I asked. All I wanted was to escape, to get away from him.

“Of course.” Ryan leaned closer, his smile never wavering. “You’re my wife.”

He bent to kiss me. I pushed him away before his lips could reach mine.

For the briefest moment, surprise flickered across his face. I glanced away, pretending to be tired.

“Go eat something first,” I said. “Then take a shower. You must be hungry.”

“I am, actually. I’ll go eat, then.” He kissed my cheek before leaving the room.

The moment his footsteps faded down the stairs, I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand.

A moment later, my phone vibrated. I glanced at the screen. The same number that had sent me the messages last night.

My stomach tightened as I opened the message. A photograph appeared. Then, my gaze settled on the diamond necklace around the woman’s neck.

The same necklace Ryan had just fastened around mine.

The woman was naked, her skin marked with love bites. She wore the necklace as though it were a trophy, a prize she’d won and wanted to flaunt.

Beneath the photograph was a message.

Ryan gave it to me last night when we made love. Does it look good?