Chapter 2
1593 Words
Vanessa Cole stood in my living room like she owned the place.
She was beautiful in that effortless way some women managed long dark hair, perfect skin, and a black dress that hugged her pregnant belly. She looked radiant. Glowing.
Everything I should have been.
"Elena." Marcus didn't even have the decency to look guilty. "We need to talk."
I set my purse down carefully, making sure the folder was hidden inside. "I can see that."
Vanessa shifted uncomfortably, her hand moving to her stomach. The gesture was so protective, so maternal, that it made my chest ache.
"I'll make this simple," Marcus said, his voice cold and businesslike. "I want a divorce."
The words should have hurt more than they did. Maybe I was in shock. Maybe I'd used up all my tears in that café.
"When?" My voice came out steady, almost detached.
"As soon as possible." He moved to stand beside Vanessa, his hand resting on the small of her back. The casual intimacy of the gesture twisted like a knife in my gut. "My lawyers will draw up the papers. You'll be compensated fairly."
"Fairly." I almost laughed. "What's fair about any of this, Marcus?"
"Don't be dramatic." He sighed like I was the one being unreasonable. "Our marriage was a business arrangement from the start. You knew that."
"Did I?" I looked between them. "Because I seem to remember you proposing to me on a beach in Santorini. You said you loved me. You said you couldn't imagine your life without me."
Vanessa's eyes widened slightly. Whatever story Marcus had told her about our marriage, it clearly wasn't the truth.
"People change," Marcus said flatly. "I've moved on. It's time you did the same."
"Moved on." I repeated the words slowly, tasting their bitterness. "How long have you two been together?"
"That's not relevant"
"Fourteen months," Vanessa said quietly, not meeting my eyes.
Fourteen months. Over a year. All those business trips, those late nights, those times he'd flinched away from my touch he'd been with her.
"And the baby?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"Is mine," Marcus said firmly. "Vanessa is six months along. We're planning to get married as soon as the divorce is finalized."
Something cold and sharp settled in my chest. Not quite angry yet. Something worse.
Clarity.
"I'm pregnant too," I said.
Silence.
Vanessa's face went pale. Marcus's expression flickered with shock, anger, and something that might have been fear.
"You said you would handle that," Marcus said tightly.
"Handle it?" Vanessa turned to him. "What does that mean?"
"It means I told her to get rid of it." He said it so casually, like we were discussing a pest problem. "This doesn't change anything, Elena. I don't want a child with you."
"Marcus" Vanessa started, but he cut her off.
"Stay out of this, Vanessa." His eyes locked onto mine, cold and merciless. "You have until Monday to make the appointment, Elena. After that, I'll cut off your credit cards, freeze your accounts, and make sure you can't afford to keep it anyway."
"You can't do that."
"Can't I?" He smiled, and it was like looking at a stranger. "Everything you have is in my name. This apartment, your car, your bank accountsall of it. You signed a prenup, remember? If we divorce, you leave with exactly what you brought into this marriage."
Nothing. I'd brought nothing. I'd been a struggling art student when we met, barely scraping by. He'd swept me off my feet, promised me the world, and I'd been stupid enough to believe him.
"This is insane," Vanessa said, her voice shaking. "Marcus, you can't force her to"
"I said stay out of this." The sharp edge in his voice made her flinch.
I watched them, and saw the cracks in their perfect picture. The way Vanessa's hand trembled on her belly. The way Marcus's jaw clenched with barely contained rage. The way neither of them seemed to actually like each other very much.
And I understood.
Vanessa wasn't his soulmate. She was just convenient. Pregnant. Another box to check on his path to building the perfect life.
Just like I had been.
"I'll sign the divorce papers," I said quietly.
Marcus's expression relaxed. "Good. That's"
"On one condition."
His eyes narrowed. "You're not in a position to make conditions."
"I am if you want this to be quick and quiet." I pulled out my phone, pulling up the photos Patricia had given me. "Otherwise, I will go to the press with evidence of your affair. I wonder how your board of directors would feel about their CEO getting his mistress pregnant while his wife was trying to have his baby? Might hurt the company's family-friendly image."
"You're bluffing."
I held up the phone, showing him the photo of him kissing Vanessa. His face went white.
"Where did you get that?"
"Doesn't matter." I slipped the phone back into my pocket. "What matters is I have dozens more. Hotel records. Text messages. Even a few videos, apparently."
Vanessa made a small, choked sound. Marcus's hands clenched into fists.
"What do you want?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"A fair settlement. And I keep the baby."
"That's it?" He looked suspicious, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"That's it." I met his eyes. "I'll disappear quietly. You can marry Vanessa, raise your child, live your perfect life. All I want is enough money to start over somewhere far away from here."
It was a lie, of course. I wanted so much more than that. I wanted him to hurt the way he'd hurt me. I wanted him to lose everything he'd built on my back while I smiled and played the perfect wife.
But revenge was a dish best served cold. And I was going to need time to plan.
"Fine." Marcus pulled out his phone. "I'll have my lawyers draft something. But the photos"
"Get deleted the moment the money hits my account." Another lie. I was keeping those photos. Insurance.
He studied me for a long moment, probably trying to figure out if I was serious. I kept my face blank, emotionless.
Finally, he nodded. "You'll have the papers by Monday."
"Great." I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
"Where are you going?" Marcus called after me.
I looked back at them, this man I'd loved, this woman carrying his child, both of them looking at me like I was the problem.
"Anywhere but here."
*****************
The hotel room was small but clean. I'd paid for it in cash from the emergency fund I'd been secretly building for the past six months. Call it intuition, but some part of me had known this was coming.
I sat on the bed, staring at my phone. There were seventeen missed calls from Marcus. I ignored all of them.
Instead, I called the one person I'd sworn I'd never speak to again.
He answered on the first ring.
"Elena?"
Just hearing his voice made my chest tight. "Hi, Dad."
Silence. Then: "Do you have any idea how long it's been?"
"Three years, two months, and sixteen days." I'd been counting. "I know. I'm sorry."
"Sorry." My father, Richard Hartwellno relation to Marcus despite the shared last name let out a bitter laugh. "You cut us out of your life completely. Refused to see your mother at her funeral. And now you're sorry?"
The guilt was overwhelming. Mom had died a year ago. Cancer. I'd gotten the call from my sister, but I hadn't gone to the funeral. Marcus had said it would be bad timing, that he had an important meeting that weekend.
Another lie I'd believed.
"I made mistakes," I said quietly. "A lot of them. But I need help, Dad. I need"
"Let me guess. Your perfect husband isn't so perfect after all?"
"Something like that."
Another pause. Then I heard him sigh. "Where are you?"
I gave him the hotel address.
"Stay put. I'm sending someone to get you."
"Dad, I don't need"
"You called me, Elena. That means you need something. And despite everything, you're still my daughter." His voice softened slightly. "Just stay put. Help is coming."
He hung up.
I lay back on the bed, my hand on my stomach. "It's just you and me, little one," I whispered. "But we're going to be okay. I promise."
My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number:
*Look out your window.*
My blood ran cold. I moved to the window carefully, peering through the curtains.
A black SUV was parked across the street. Even from here, I could see someone sitting in the driver's seat, watching my hotel.
Marcus had found me.
Or worse he'd had someone following me all along.
My phone rang. Patricia Cole.
"Don't trust your father," she said the moment I answered. "Whatever you do, don't go with whoever he sends."
"What? Why?"
"Because Richard Hartwell and Marcus Hartwell have been business partners for five years. Whatever you told your father, he's probably already told Marcus."
The floor dropped out from under me.
No. That couldn't be right. Dad had sounded concerned. He'd called me his daughter.
But then I remembered the invitation to Marcus's company gala five years ago. The one where I'd met him. Dad had insisted I attend.
Dad had introduced us.
"Oh God," I whispered.
"Get out of there," Patricia said urgently. "Now. There's a back exit through the kitchen. Go."
I grabbed my purse and ran.
- Writer
