Side Chick Era Over Novels & Stories

I choked and spit it out. Sophia strolled over, smug as ever, and dug her stiletto into my cheek. "Trying to leave without apologizing?"

Quandt wasn't just any client—he was one of the hardest to land. He's the one who dragged me out for drinks on my wedding night. If I hadn't gone, we'd have lost the deal. The company was barely crawling back then. I couldn't risk it. So yeah, I left Steven alone on our wedding night. Next day, I bought him that watch he always talked about—four grand. The dress I wore? Less than fifty bucks. I'd had it for three years. I clenched the phone as pain stabbed through my side.

Everyone except Alaya Moore. She was still on the couch in Tasha’s living room, legs tucked beneath her, wearing one of Tasha’s oversized hoodies. Her hair was tied back, her face bare and tired. The funeral played on TV, muted. She wanted to be there. More than anything. But how could she show her face? To the world, she was just the side chick. A stain on Darius’s legacy. The reason he cheated, the reason Janelle cried on camera, the reason people said he died in disgrace.