Chapter 6

Chapter 6

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, Layla would be home tomorrow.”

“Oh okay, there's nothing else. You can go now.” I shot her a small smile.

Why didn't he call me?

I picked up my phone and called him. I watched the phone ring for a short while before cutting off. He was clearly ending the call. I called Eleanor next, the phone rang but she didn't pick up either.

My chest ached. For the first time in a long time, I truly felt powerless.

Maybe I had been wrong about Eleanor, but something about Ethan was definitely not right. Last night, he really seemed offended. More about the thought of him and Eleanor having an affair and less about the fact that I accused him of infidelity.

“There was only one person who could help me make sense of all of this. Unfortunately, he was probably the last person who would want to hear from me,” I mumbled.

***

It was currently 7:45 p.m., I’d spent the whole day reaching out to Eleanor and Ethan. Mostly Eleanor. But still…

Silence.

And it was eating up my peace. I kept feeling worse by the hour. I needed to clear my head for a while and that's how I ended up at a more discreet bar than the last one.

The driver was outside, waiting to take me home when I was drunk enough.

“Your drinks, ma’am.” The female bartender smiled at me.

I looked down at the five shots of whiskey. “It's you and me again.”

I took the first shot, welcoming the bitter, burning sensation down my throat.

“Refill.” I pushed the glass towards the bartender, as I gulped down the second shot.

“Coming right up,” she said, pouring me another glass.

“Actually, just leave the bottle.”

Just as I raised the glass to my lips, it was snatched from my hand.

“That's enough for tonight.”

I didn't need to turn around to know whose voice it was.

“Mr. Jacobs.”

“Am I always going to meet the drunk version of you?” he asked, sitting across from me.

“Why are you here?” I asked, my voice coming out a little slurred.

“I own the place.” He said flatly. But, the amusement in his eyes was hard to miss.

“Oh.”

He studied my face for a minute. “And you? Getting drunk again? It's not even been 72 hours since you got drunk last.”

“I'm not getting drunk.” I spat.

He raised an eyebrow and pointed to the whiskey bottle on the table. “Need I say more?”

“What happened this time, Mia?” he asked.

“I was wrong about Eleanor.” I sighed.

My eyes stung with tears, as I explained what happened last night.

“You didn't listen to me, Mia.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

“I told you to talk to your best friend first, remember?

I frowned.

He was right. He did say so, but I didn't listen.

“I remember,” I replied quietly.

“And your husband?” his expression hardened. “Do you think he's innocent?”

I hesitated.

Do I think Ethan is innocent? Of course not.

Eleanor may not be the woman, but there's definitely a woman. I mean, why else would that photograph exist? And all the “client excused” lipstick marks and perfumes?

I'd be really stupid to think he was innocent.

“I'll take your hesitation as a no.” He nodded and I could swear, I saw the relief in his eyes.

“You think I was too rash, don't you?” I asked.

“I do.”

“You were right,” I said.

“I was.”

“I should have handled it better.” I sighed.

“You should have.”

I shot him a glare.

“Just Insufferable.” I cursed under my breath.

“I heard that, Mia.”

“Whatever.” I waved him off. “Go away. I want to be alone.”

I reached for the bottle again, but he pulled it away.

“What you need is to go home.”

“No.” I spat.

“Mia.” My name rolled off his tongue in a commanding tone.

“I'm taking you home.” He continued,

“You don't have to, my driver is right outside,” I said.

“Well then, let's go,” he said, getting up from his seat.

“Leave me alone,” I said dismissively.

“We’re leaving, Mia.”

“I’m…” Before I could protest, he scooped me into his arms.

“Put me down.” I struggled in his arms.

He paid me no attention and walked out of the bar.

“Mr. Jacobs?” The driver called, running towards us.

His eyes widened when he saw me.

“Get the door.” Mr. Jacobs barked at him.

I stopped struggling and just let him put me into the car.

“She's had quite a bit too much to drink. Get her home safely and tell Ethan to get his ass home.”

“Yes sir.” The driver said, bowing slightly.

My brows furrowed.

Tell Ethan?

How did he know Ethan wasn't home?

Mr. Jacobs? Who exactly are you?

“You know him?” I asked the driver, popping out my head through the window.

“Yes ma’am, this is…”

“You should go,” Mr. Jacobs said, cutting him off.

He looked back at me, “See you soon, Mia.” He smirked and walked off.

“How do you know Mr…”

My phone lit up with a message, interrupting me.

Unknown Number.

My heart stopped.

“If you want to know who the real mistress is, come to Dory’s cake cafe tomorrow, 2:00 p.m.”