Chapter 3

Camille

Tristan had been gone for almost a week. I told myself I didn’t care, just as it was obvious he didn’t either. Not even a single call. I’d become the least important thing in his life. 

Corra knocked on my bedroom to let me know that Tristan’s friend, Simon, was downstairs. He needed to collect something from Tristan’s study.

I found him standing in the living room, his gaze lingering on one of the paintings hanging on the wall.

“Camille.” He offered a small smile. “Sorry to intrude. Tristan asked me to grab something from his study.”

“He couldn’t have asked me himself?”

“I guess he didn’t want to bother you…with everything going on.”

His words caught me off guard. “Everything going on?”

He hesitated for a moment before offering an apologetic smile. “Forget I said that. I’ll just grab what I came for and be out of your way.”

He disappeared into the study while I waited in the hallway, my arms folded across my chest. A few minutes later, he came back with several folders tucked under arm.

“Thanks, Camille. I should get going,” he said, almost making his way out.

“Simon, wait,” I took a step toward him. “Can we talk for a second?”

His eyes dropped to the folders in his arm before lifting back to mine. He looked like he was searching for a polite excuse to leave.

“Camille, I don’t think…”

“Please.”

Simon sighed, glancing at his watch before finally nodding. “Okay, I think I can spare a moment.”

“Where did Tristan go?”

“Camille, I don’t think I should answer that.”

“I thought it was a business trip. Why is it suddenly a secret?”

He hesitated.

“Brazil.”

“Brazil?” I searched his face. “Tell me this isn't really a business trip.  He went with another woman, didn’t he?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he already regretted staying.

“You know I don’t want to get caught in the middle of what’s going on between you two.”

“He’s my husband, Simon. I deserve to know.”

“And he’s my friend, so you understand why this conversation feels uncomfortable.” He said softly. “I’ve always thought of you as an amazing woman.” He paused. “Maybe…this divorce is for the best.”

He picked up the folders from the couch and made his way to the door.

“Take care, Camille.”

As the door clicked shut, Simon’s words circled in my head. He hadn’t confirmed anything outright, but he didn't deny it either.

Naomi’s lawyer had told me to start gathering anything that might be useful if a legal battle became inevitable. Property documents. Account statements. Anything that could help prove his true net worth before he had any chance to hide his assets. 

Tristan’s study was the only place most of it would be.

I hadn’t set foot in there for months. Everything was still as neatly organized as it had always been. I opened the top drawer of his desk, searching for anything useful. Instead, my hand landed on something else.

A travel itinerary, tucked beneath a stack of papers, as though it was carefully hidden.

Tristan Nolan. Daphne Castro.

Two names. Same destination, Brazil.

I stared at it until the words blurred, some small, foolish part of me still hoping I’d misread it. 

Daphne.

The name tugged at a memory. Tristan’s assistant at the office was named Daphne, but I wasn’t sure if Castro was her last name. If it was her, she was probably just traveling for work. Tristan wouldn’t be reckless enough to cross the line with an employee. If he had a mistress, It had to be another Daphne.

I took pictures of it just incase, although I didn’t know what I’d do with it, but an instinct told me to take pictures. I carefully placed the itinerary back exactly where I'd found it. If Tristan came looking for it, he wouldn’t know I had seen it. 

*****

I spent the next few days taking refuge at my mother’s house, needing space to breathe. But after a few days, I finally returned home.

I was upstairs in our bedroom when the door suddenly barged open.

Tristan stood in the doorway, his eyes dark. Corra had already told me he’d been back for two days and had warned her not to call me.

“Where have you been?”

“At my mother’s.”

“I’ve been back for two days. How long have you been gone? You didn’t think to tell me.”

I almost laughed.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to Brazil either.”

“Brazil? Who told you that?” He frowned. “Simon really couldn’t help himself, could he?” he muttered, almost to himself.”

“So I wasn’t supposed to find out?” I let out a small laugh. “Strange, for something that was just work.”

“I really don’t care about what ideas you have. Think whatever you want!”

“I see you’re upset. You’re just mad that I’m not stupid anymore.”

His eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“You could use all this free time to lose some weight, you know. Since you clearly have nothing better to do.”

“Your words don’t cut as deep anymore. Not after everything you’ve put me through.”

“Take a look at yourself in the mirror. How am I supposed to make love to that?”

I swallowed hard. His words still hurt, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

“Then don’t!” I held the bedroom door open. “You have your mistresses now, Tristan. Leave me the hell alone!”

“You know what, I can’t stand you anymore,” 

Without another word, he pulled out a new small suitcase from behind the wardrobe and stuffed a few clothes into it. 

“Leave! Get out! I hate you!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

He zipped the suitcase and grabbed the handle. 

“When you’re ready, have your lawyers send the papers.”

“I won’t make it easy for you, Tristan! Count on it.” I shouted after him.

He was gone, and for the first time I didn’t run after him.

I stood by the window, watching his car pull out of the driveway. A heavy sob finally broke through my throat, but sitting there in the quiet house, I realized my tears weren’t for him. They were for me.