003

Lavanda

I wanted an end. A quiet, dignified ending. But years of being treated like the problem hardened me.

I pick up my phone. My decision is clear. Only one way out.

I dial Red.

"Hello?" His voice, warm and familiar, curls through the receiver.

"It's me, Lavanda."

"Lavanda..." His tone lifts, bubbling with excitement. "It's been a long time."

"Send me whatever pictures or videos you have," I say. I know he has something.

A pause. "Why do you need them?" he asks.

"Red, do you want your money or not?"

"Sorry," he mutters before ending the call.

I take a breath. Freedom has a taste. Sharp and dangerous. And I want it.

Red wasn't just my investigator. He was Desmond's old friend, a relentless flirt, a man who tried again and again to bed me. I always said no, clinging to the foolish idea that I was married.

When Desmond traveled to Paris on one of his "suspicious" trips, I hired Red to follow him. To catch him. To strip away every lie. Now, Paris would become my salvation, my undoing of him.

I pick up the paperwork lying on the floor . He's going to sign this.

When Red sends me those videos, it's going to be game over.

The maids circle around the dining room, whispering among themselves.

I don't respond or shun them back to their chores. I raise my chin and leave for my room.

I need to prepare for work and pretend everything is fine, even though it's far from it.

I wear a black dress, comb my hair, and dab eyeliner to cover my dark circles.

I don't want people pitying me. I need to not appear like prey.

My phone buzzes before I reach my car. A text from Red. I open it, ready to forward everything to my attorney.

When two of my husband's security officers appear in front of my car.

"What is going on here?" I ask. One of them snatches my phone.

"Following orders, ma'am," they cross their hands in front of me.

"Give me my phone now," I order.

"Security protocol," they say in unison.

"Who asked you to do this??" I point at them.

"Your husband." I inhale sharply. Denying me marital freedom wasn't enough. Now this.

"It's alright. You can have the phone." I slot my keys into the car.

Their shadows appear in the car windows. "You can't leave the premises, ma'am."

"First my phone, now the car."

"It's okay," I fling the keys at them.

"I'll go alone, with no car."

They run in front. "You can't leave the building."

"What nonsense," I bark. "Let me go now, or I will show you all what I'm capable of."

"Just following orders."

I won't sit back and allow him to imprison me. I am not accepting this.

I throw my bag at the car, diverting their attention while I run.

I'm not athletic. This sort of thing is Desmond's forte, and the heels make it worse. I can hear them gaining on me.

The gates are still far. My legs get weak. I think of how my life will be ruined if my legs give out.

I stop to catch my breath.Too tired to run. The security catches up.

"Ma, please, we will escort you back," they say breathlessly.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"We have to take you back, with or without your cooperation."

"I just want my freedom out of this hellhole."

"I'll double whatever he pays you... just let me through."

"Sorry, our hands are tied." One of them carries me on his back.

I hit him multiple times. "Let me go!" I scream, but he doesn't. He holds firmly to my body.

All the maids gather in those awful black outfits, staring wide-eyed at me in the guard's arms.

Surprise washes over their faces. He drops me gently on the floor while the other gives me my bag.

"I want to speak to Desmond," I say sharply.

"Are you sure?" the guard who carried me asks.

"I said call my husband."

The guard dips his hand in his pocket and calls. He picks up too quickly, almost expecting the call, unlike when I had to beg for it.

"Desmond, can you get your guards to allow me to leave here peacefully?"

He chuckles on the phone, almost as if he's enjoying this. "Why should I do that?"

"I'm not a toy to be locked up and played with." I move away from the staff. There's one thing about washing my linen in public that I hate.

"You are my wife and I want what's best for us," he says slowly, with conviction.

"Keeping me locked up won't solve anything."

"It will. For today. I can't have you blabbing about things... to the public."

"You can't keep me here forever," I say firmly.

I can hear the tension in his voice. "I don't plan to. Just shut your mouth and be the loving wife."

Is that what he thinks of me? A wife who will always be there cleaning up after him?

I remove the phone from my ear, my thumb hovering over the red button, stirring up ugly emotions.

Is this how Desmond feels about me?

"If you want me to apologize, I won't, Lavanda." I end the call.

............

The maids stand by the corridor, watching. My knees are on the cold marble floor with a soapy bucket beside me.

I know what they're thinking. That I've gone mad after the call.

I scrub the floor of our matrimonial room until my knuckles turn white.

Every sex, every "I love you," every kiss. I'm taking away from him.

After that, I walk over to the balcony. The same one. I blink away tears, watering the dying stem.

I vividly remember how we used to take turns watering the plants. Then the maids and money came.

I don't allow my tears to stop me.

I run downstairs and take the beautiful diamond ring.

I throw it and it drops on his Bentley.

I smile. That's more like it.

The cracks on the windshield are a direct representation of my trust.

I swallow down a choke. This isn't the time to bring back old memories.

He never apologized. So I won't either.

It's 9pm and there's no sign of him.

The smell of fish and bacon wafts through my nostrils it was my favorite growing up as a child.

I swallow down a choke. This wasn't time for old memories.

The maids rush back and forth to prepare the dinner table.

I hear the honking of his car and stay back inside.

I check the wall clock: 10:30pm. This is earlier than usual.

I cross my legs on the couch.

"Good evening, sir," I hear the maids usher him in.

My husband is obsessed with keeping a certain image of himself to outsiders, and I have learned to adapt to it.

The ever-perfect wife of the multi millionaire magnate. To him, keeping the perfect look is everything.

"Evening," I hear him say, a bit cheerfully. Most nights, even when late, he hardly answers.

What's changed? What made him this happy to come back at this hour?

I glance at him. Same glasses, same suit. No lipstick stains on his collar. He isn't coming from a whore's pant.

"Here is your suitcase, sir," one of the maids drops a pink Louis Vuitton beside him.

I scan it thoroughly. Men don't love pink. It's a known fact.

Did he buy it for me? Does he think this will be solved by gifting me?

"No hugs for your husband?" He spreads his arms wide.

I stay still. There's no need for pretense. This is our home, not an office.

My eyes are now on the strange intruder in the living room. That would explain the "pink LV."

"I got that here for our anniversary," he notices my gaze.

"It's over between us," I say calmly, repeating my words.

I notice the maids are still outside.

He moves close. I put a hand forward to create distance. "I don't want any of it."

"Lavanda, you are my wife. I'm not ever divorcing you." I see the veins pop up on his throat.

"I'm not, and this is not a family."

"Because..." He breathes in calmly, reaching for the pink LV. "There is no child."

"It's still the same. I don't have Adrian, and I'm not pregnant."

"Nonsense, baby. I found a way to fix that." He claps for the maid.

I stand and watch what all this show is for.

As the maids reappear in the living room, a figure stands in the middle.

A woman in an office skirt and circle glasses. Her black hair pulled up in a bun.

What is this?? Our eyes meet and she faces the floor.

I don't want to believe what my mind is screaming.

I glance at him. Confusion spreads across his face too.

"Why is your PA in our house?" I say with my calmest voice.

"Where is she??" Desmond probes his assistant.

The door springs open. "I'm right here."

I bite my tongue not to lose control while the maids watch.

Her devilish smile settles on her face as our eyes meet. She always knows how to make an entrance.

"I had to bring this with me," I glance at the handbag she's holding. One of the many gifts my cheating husband bought for her.

It isn't enough that they were fucking in the company. He's also bringing her into our home.

I guess his sense of shame has gone out the window.

"Can I leave now, boss?" The tension in the room is thick beneath her squeaky voice.

"Yes." His eyes leer on my sister's exposed bosom. All the maids have gone to do their chores.

"Sister, you got my text about coming over to town?"

Why is she being stupidly nice? I didn't see any text, witch.

Her arms rush forward to hug me.

The sheer audacity for her to sleep with my husband and stand in front of me.

She envelops me in her arms and I can smell Desmond's perfume all over her.

My blood boils, thinking of all the sex positions they tried before coming here.

I push her off me. A smirk spreads on her lips as she allows herself to fall.

Desmond rushes quickly to help her up. Not once had he shown me this kind of care after our baby died. It felt like I was alone in it.

"So this is it? The stupid gift you have?"

"What is wrong with you?? How could you be so callous as to push your sister in her condition?"

"Condition of sleeping with my husband at the office?" I laugh coldly.

“Your sister is pregnant with our baby,as a surrogate mother”

Color drains from my face and I try as much as possible not to show it.

“Pregnant” how long were they seeing each other.

I sniff back a tear. "I caught you fucking her, moaning like a dog in heat, there's no way this is surrogate"

It is, I did this for you. He stands up Cyanne clinging to his arms .

I can't stay here and watch them. I have to leave before I'm consumed by my own anger.

I immediately start to walk away.

When I hear his voice behind me, clear as day: "Of course, run away. Run like the day you killed Adrian."