Chapter 2 - Thrown Away Like Trash

Nyelle

"What kind of game are you playing right now?" Vincent demanded in a harsh whisper, his eyes fixed on the words displayed on my iPad.

After five years of treating me as though I barely existed, it was almost bitterly amusing that this was what finally made him look at me properly.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and typed another message with trembling fingers before turning the screen toward him.

[Or would you rather I tell everyone here that we're still married while you're proposing to another woman?]

His expression changed the moment he read it. There was no fear of losing me, only the quick calculation of what the truth could cost him if the people gathered around us found out that he was still married while proposing to another woman.

His hand shot forward and closed around my wrist, pulling me closer. "You spent five years staying invisible, and now you're threatening me?" he snapped beneath his breath.

The faint scent of alcohol mixed with his expensive cologne drifted between us, and I hated that I still remembered how that scent used to make my heart race whenever he came home late at night.

"People are watching," Cassia whispered beside him, keeping her smile firmly in place for the guests around us.

Vincent released me, and I pulled my wrist back before quickly typing another message.

[I'm trying to make a deal with you. What do you say?]

His gaze remained fixed on the screen while Cassia leaned closer to him. "Say no. Let her do whatever she wants."

Vincent shook his head.

"No. I can't let anyone know I've been sleeping with that—"

He stopped himself, but not before the word landed between us.

After five years of sharing his bed and carrying his name, I was still something he couldn't even bring himself to call his wife.

"So what are you planning to do?" Cassia asked, her fingers tightening around his arm.

Vincent looked at me for a long moment before saying, "Fine. One month. After that, you'll disappear from my life forever."

My fingers trembled as I typed my answer.

[Fine. One month is all I need.]

I turned and walked away, but Cassia's furious voice followed me toward the stairs.

"How are we supposed to get married now? That bitch knows exactly what she's doing. I won't let this happen."

I kept walking until I reached the bedroom where I had spent the last five years of my life. When I pushed open the door, I stopped.

The walls were bare.

Our wedding photographs were gone.

Uneasiness crept through me as I crossed the room and opened the wardrobe. Bright dresses hung where my clothes had once been, luxury handbags were arranged beneath them, and rows of high heels lined the floor. Cassia's perfume lingered in the space.

My suitcases were already waiting outside.

While I had been sitting alone in a hospital, trying to understand how I was supposed to live with the knowledge that I was dying, Vincent and Cassia had been here preparing to erase every trace of me from his life.

I covered my mouth as tears spilled down my face, the familiar silence pressing heavily against me. I couldn't scream or demand an explanation. All I could do was stand there and stare at the room I had once believed was my home.

Hours later, after the last guest had finally left, I was still sitting on the edge of the bed when the door opened.

Cassia walked in with her arms folded across her chest. "As you can see, I've already moved in," she said, glancing around the room. "You'll be sleeping in the guest room from now on."

I stood and walked toward her, ignoring the weakness spreading through my body as I picked up my iPad and typed.

[I'm still his wife for one month, so who has more right to stay here—you or me?]