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Chapter Two:The Other Woman
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2026-09-28 23:05:29The front door was still warm beneath her palm.
Eleanor stood frozen on the porch, her fingers wrapped around the handle, her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat. Inside, Julian was laughing. Carefree. Relaxed. Happy.
She'd never heard him laugh like that.
Not with her.
Not once in six years.
Her hand tightened on the handle. She should walk in. She should confront him. She should scream and demand answers and make him look her in the eye while he explained why their marriage certificate was forged.
She didn't move.
She couldn't move.
Because Julian was talking to someone. And his voice—his voice was different. Softer. Warmer. Intimate.
"No, she doesn't suspect anything."
Eleanor's blood turned to ice.
She should walk away. She knew she should walk away. She should get back in her car and drive and never look back. But her feet were rooted to the porch. Her hand was frozen on the handle. And her heart—her heart was already breaking.
"She thinks we're married. She thinks Ethan is ours."
The words hit her like physical blows. One after another. Relentless. Brutal.
She thinks we're married.
She thinks Ethan is ours.
A pause. A laugh. Julian's laugh. The one she'd never heard before.
"Victoria, relax. She's not going anywhere. She has nothing. No family. No money. No options."
Victoria.
The name landed somewhere deep in Eleanor's chest. A name she knew. A name she trusted. The university advisor who had mentored Julian years ago. The woman who had always been a little too familiar at faculty events. The woman Eleanor had invited to dinner. To Ethan's birthday parties. To their home.
Victoria.
"She's useful. She raises Ethan. She keeps the house. She plays wife. And I get to keep you."
Eleanor's knees buckled. She caught herself on the doorframe, her nails digging into the wood, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
She raises Ethan.
She keeps the house.
She plays wife.
Another pause.
"I know, I know. Soon. I promise. Just... let her believe what she wants. She's happy. She's clueless. And she's not going anywhere."
A laugh. Soft. Cruel.
"She'll never leave. She has nowhere to go."
Eleanor closed her eyes.
The world tilted.
And somewhere deep inside her, something cracked.
She didn't remember opening the door.
She didn't remember stepping inside.
She only remembered the sound of her own voice, calm and steady, like it belonged to someone else.
"I'm home."
Julian was in the kitchen. He turned, phone still pressed to his ear. His eyes widened. Just for a second. Just long enough for Eleanor to see it.
Then he smiled.
The smile she'd fallen in love with. The smile that had convinced her to trust him. The smile that had lied to her for six years.
"Hey, babe. I didn't hear you come in."
He ended the call. Slid the phone into his pocket. Walked toward her. Kissed her cheek.
She didn't flinch.
She wanted to. God, she wanted to. Every inch of her skin crawled at his touch. But she didn't flinch. She smiled. The same smile she'd worn for years. The smile that hid everything.
"I'm sorry I'm late. I had to run some errands."
"Everything okay?"
"Everything's fine."
The lie tasted like poison on her tongue. But she swallowed it. She swallowed all of it.
"Where's Ethan?"
"Upstairs. Doing homework." Julian studied her. "You look tired."
"I am."
"Long day?"
"You could say that."
He nodded. Turned back to the stove. He was making dinner. Pasta. Her favorite. The gesture that used to make her heart swell.
Now it made her sick.
"Go sit down. I'll bring you a plate."
"Okay."
She walked to the table. Sat. Watched him move around the kitchen. Watched him hum while he stirred the sauce. Watched him be the man she thought she knew.
The man who didn't exist.
She thought about the registry office. About Cynthia's face. About the word forgery. She thought about Victoria. About five years of marriage. About a child who wasn't hers.
She thought about walking away.
She thought about never coming back.
But then she heard footsteps on the stairs. Small. Quick. Familiar.
"Mama!"
Ethan appeared in the doorway. His face lit up when he saw her. He ran to her. Wrapped his arms around her waist.
She held him.
She held him tighter than she should have.
"Hey, baby."
"I was worried. You were gone a long time."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"It's okay." He pulled back. Looked up at her. His eyes—Julian's eyes—searched her face. "Are you okay?"
She smiled. The same smile. The same lie.
"I'm okay."
"You look sad."
"I'm just tired."
"You should sleep more."
"I should."
Julian set a plate in front of her. Pasta. Her favorite.
"Eat," he said.
She picked up her fork.
She ate.
She smiled.
She pretended.
That night, she lay in bed beside him.
The lights were off. The room was dark. She could hear his breathing. Slow. Steady. Content.
She stared at the ceiling.
She thought about the forged certificate. About Victoria. About the five years of lies. About the child down the hall who wasn't hers.
She thought about running.
She thought about screaming.
She thought about waking him up and demanding answers.
She didn't.
She lay still. Silent. Invisible.
Like she'd been for six years.
But something was different now.
Something had shifted.
She wasn't invisible because she was nothing.
She was invisible because she was watching.
Waiting.
Learning.
She turned her head. Looked at him. The curve of his jaw. The softness of his breath. The face she had loved.
You think I have nowhere to go.
She smiled in the dark.
You're wrong.
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