The Ex-Wife's Deal with the Devil

A startled scream tore from my mouth when gunshots loudly echoed in the building, and before I knew it, me along with twenty others were forced to huddle in a corner while the masked men terrorized the bank tellers behind the glass walls with guns.

Not just any guns that an ordinary person could buy from a gun store, it looked like they were military-grade. These people are not some small-time criminals but part of a larger syndicate, that’s for sure.

We were all cowering with our heads facing down, but one unfortunate older man was pulled out of our huddle by his collar and was dragged violently until they were in front of the bank tellers, who refused to do anything behind their bulletproof glass wall.

“Open the vault! Open it or this person dies!”

The robbers weren’t playing around. One wrong move and they could put a bullet through me without blinking. And what was I thinking about? Coffee. Thirty-five cups of it, to be exact.

“Kerri, stop it. Coffee is the least of your concern right now,” My friend, Alina, whom I happened to meet here, somehow managed to read my thoughts, or perhaps it was all over my face.

The ridiculous part? I was more terrified of showing up late with his daily caffeine fix than of the barrel of a gun pointed our way.

“Open it!” They were growing impatient, so they shot the older man at his knees, tearing an ear-piercing scream from his mouth as he groveled on the floor in pain.

The rest of the hostages, including Alina, screamed out of fear but quickly forced themselves to quiet down when guns were pointed at us again. “Shut up!” one of the men yelled, threatening to shoot.

They needed a new hostage to instill urgency in the bank tellers, so the one who seemed to be the leader rushed towards us and, guess what?

He picked me.

The girl with blindingly bright blonde hair that sticks out like a sore thumb. He pulled me up by the hair so hard I almost thought that my scalp would get ripped out, so I winced in pain.

“You! Come here!” He angrily screamed, but when he saw my face, his eyes faltered and immediately released me from his brutal grip.

Something in his gaze flickered, almost washing away the aggressiveness he initially showed and was replaced with... no, not with the type of look as if he fell in love just because he saw my face. That is impossible, no one falls in love with a shabby woman like me.

It was more like – fear.

He was scared shitless after seeing my face, and not just him, but by the other robbers as well, when they began wondering why their leader froze, so they approached only to be stunned when they caught sight of me.

“Sh*t, it’s her...” One of them whispered, instantly dropping their bank heist and rushing out the door in a hurry.

While the leader remained, still shocked at what he did that he stood there for another full minute with terrified eyes – as if the act of pulling me by my hair was the worst crime he did today.

“Boss! Let’s go! The cops are here!”

One of his men pulled him away and escaped while the rest of us watched this unfold with confusion swimming in our trembling gazes.

Everything else that happened after that was a blur. I was questioned by the police about my experience because of the way the robbers reacted when seeing me, and they thought I was the wife of a powerful syndicate boss, which is ridiculous might I add.

For one, I have lived my entire twenty-five-year life quietly and peacefully, away from crimes or any suspicious organizations. I was an honor student, and never in my life have I smoked or drunk alcohol. I just work as an assistant, that’s all.

Although, I would be lying if I said I was not a tad bit curious as to why they reacted that way, but I have other things to worry about right now. I am late, and coffee-less, which means...

“F*ck*ng unbelievable.” His voice thundered as soon as he saw me come into his dressing room, disheveled, and without the thing he asked me to buy.

“I’m sorry,” I held my gaze down and bit on my lips, scared to meet his eyes because I knew seeing his disappointed look would only send me spiraling in guilt.

Should I tell him I was involved in a bank heist? Would he be worried and forget about the fact that I forgot his coffee?

I lift my head, hopeful, “Actually, I was...”

“Shut it, enough of your excuses already. Because of you, I’m late for the first scene,” I was immediately shut down by his loud and annoyed groans, and I quickly lowered my gaze again, wincing at every word he shouted in my direction.

It is my fault. I was asked to buy coffee for everyone in the filming crew today. I was supposed to withdraw my savings from my bank to pay for everything, but instead, I came back late. I understand his anger. I should do better next time. In fact, why didn’t I think of just paying for the coffee with my card? I’m so stupid, I just made him mad today.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go and buy them now.”

“Forget it! Filming starts in five minutes, anyway.” He picked up his script and skimmed through everything, possibly already memorizing everything at just a glance. Then he looks at his reflection to recite the lines with such emotion that even I felt honored to see him practice.

The man sitting in front of the large vanity mirror right now is Liam Tate, the new rising actor who has been dominating the industry ever since his debut thanks to his amazingly good looks and charm.

And I am Kerri Coleman, his wife, his secret wife.