บอสของฉันเป็นแวมไพร์

WASHINGTON, SEATTLE 2022

~ANASTASIA~

Most stories open up in pleasant settings, but mine started in a prison cell. Never did I imagine I’d end up here, especially for the man I loved.

God, life is unpredictable!

I was staring at the dirty ceiling, watching the spiders scurry around. How had I ended up here? Then I heard a voice, snapping me back to reality.

“Mrs. Rogers?” A guard's voice snapped me back to reality. “You're going home,” she said as she unlocked the cell.

A smile tugged at my li-ps. Finally, I was going home—my husband was here for me. I had feared he’d forgotten about me.

A few months ago, he had begged me to take the blame for hitting someone while speeding. “You’re just a housewife; it won’t affect you,” he’d said. He promised to pick me up when I got out.

As we walked to the reception, my heart sank. The man waiting for me wasn’t my husband. My bail had been paid by someone else. “Of course, it’s not him,” I muttered under my breath.

The officer asked if something was wrong. Five hundred dollars—that’s how much my bail cost. But apparently, my husband couldn’t or didn’t want to help.

I signed the papers quickly, not wanting to show how disappointed I was. The officer warned me about speeding again. I nodded, thanking him, and left.

“Ms. Anastasia, good to see you.” Scott, my brother Trey’s driver, greeted me. “I’m not dealing with you today,” I snapped, not wanting to talk to him.

“Please, let me give you a ride.” His persistence was exhausting. “My husband will come get me,” I insisted. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“This is my job,” Scott said calmly.

I looked out the road and hoped to see at least a sign of a taxi, but nothing, “Fine.” I reluctantly agreed to let him drive me home.

Gosh, I couldn't wait to get home, have a warm bath, eat good food, and hopefully cuddle with my husband. The past few days I haven't seen him felt like forever.

I don't know for how long I've closed my eyes, but when I felt the car coming to a halt, I jolted up and looked out the window just to make sure he brought me home—my husband's house, not the other way around.

“Thank you,” I said as I opened the door. I didn't hear what he said, but something. Well, it didn't matter; what was important was that he brought me home.

Reaching the gate, I found it locked, so I knocked. I kept knocking, but no one came to answer. ‘The gatekeeper must be off today,’ I thought as I reached into my handbag and got my keys. Luckily, I had a spare key for the gate, so taking it, I opened the gate, and after closing, I walked toward the house door.

I couldn't help but notice my husband's favorite car. “He must be off today,” I said to myself, “but if he's..." I stopped and thought for a second, “No, he's probably not feeling well,” saying that I quickly rushed to the door. What if he was sick and no one came to check on him?

But as I unlocked the door, I heard sounds that made my bag slip from my hands. The sounds seemed to be coming from the living room.

My heart started racing and, my nerves pricking, but I calmed myself; I didn't want to jump to any conclusions and regret it later.

“Aah, baby!”

My knees felt weak. I knew who the voice belonged to.

Even though it felt like my legs wouldn’t support me any longer, I dragged myself to the living room. I had to see for myself. And there, the small hope I relied on was shattered.

My husband was in between a naked woman's legs; I didn't need to guess who the woman was, as I knew those legs well—Jimena.

“What the fuck? What are you doing here?” My so-called husband quickly got up and zipped his trousers; he was still shirtless. No, I won't say I was shocked. I knew he was cheating on me. I just didn't know he would do it in my own house, especially when I was locked up because of him.

I knew about his infidelity; Jimena made it well known. Still, I held onto a small hope that he would one day get bored of her and change. I never thought it would lead to this—I was never prepared for a day like this.

"Babe, please go upstairs.” He didn't sound regretful or shameful at all, and no, he wasn't talking to me; he was talking to Jimena.

I watched with blurry eyes as she obeyed him; she even had the guts to peck his lips before she walked toward the stairs in my own house. “And you, were you not supposed to be in jail?” he turned to me, his voice cold.

“W…w-what?” My voice trembled. I didn’t even know what I was feeling as I couldn’t feel my heart—it was like it stopped working, but I could feel my body shaking and the tears that I hadn’t even noticed rolled freely down my cheek.

“Listen, grandfather is dead, so there's no use pretending anymore; we're getting a divorce.” He declared, sounding calm, like I didn't just catch him fucking his mistress on my sofa.