Chapter 16 - Are You My Husband's Mistress?
1425 Words
She was thankful for that little distraction because she could not really understand Micah. Were all the women he met in his life like that? Shameless and insensitive enough to live in a house where the owner hated her presence?
She was thankful for that little distraction because she could not really understand Micah. Were all the women he met in his life like that? Shameless and insensitive enough to live in a house where the owner hated her presence?
She opened the door and froze.
A heavyset woman stood in the hallway, her figure blocking out what little light spilled in from the corridor. Her wrists and neck glittered with gold and stones, the sharp scent of expensive perfume invading Alondra’s small space like an uninvited guest. There was an air of hostility about her, a storm barely contained in human form.
Alondra’s heart thudded painfully in her chest.
“Y-Yes, Ma’am?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound polite though it trembled. Her palms dampened with nervous sweat as her fingers gripped the doorframe for support.
The woman’s eyes raked over her with a venomous glare before stopping at her face. Her lips curled, and she jabbed a finger at Alondra. The huge stone on her ring caught the light like a sharp blade.
"Hey! Are you Jellie? Are you my husband's mistress?"
Alondra blinked, stunned, her throat going dry. The words didn’t register at first. Mistress? What?
“I… Ma’am, I think you’re mistaken. I just moved here,” she stammered, instinctively taking a step back. The doorframe pressed against her back as her breath came quicker, shallow with panic.
But the woman’s fury only grew, her voice shrieking like a siren echoing in the cramped hallway. "I don't believe you! You’re that flirty woman my husband is spending his money on! Pretending to be his scholar? You’re actually having an affair! I know your type!"
Alondra shook her head frantically. "B-but you really are mistaken. I just moved in the other day. And my name is not Jellie." Her voice cracked as her hands began to tremble.
"You can't fool me anymore!" the matron spat, her face twisted with rage. "b***h! Husband-stealer! You’re supposedly studying, but in truth you’re a homewrecker!"
Alondra barely had time to react as the woman lunged forward, her manicured nails outstretched like claws, aiming for her hair.
Alondra’s instincts screamed at her to run, but her body froze in fear. She yelped, stumbling back, arms flying up to shield her head.
But the attack never landed.
A large hand shot out, clamping around the matron’s wrist in midair.
“Ma’am, she said she’s not that Jellie. You’re causing a scandal here,” a deep, commanding voice interrupted.
Micah’s voice.
He stepped forward, his tall frame cutting between Alondra and the furious woman like a shield. His presence seemed to suck all the air from the hallway, his calm but dangerous aura silencing even the landlady and onlookers who had gathered nearby.
"Alondra, get inside now," he ordered, his voice low but firm.
Terrified, Alondra darted past them like a frightened rabbit, her heart still hammering in her ears. She didn’t stop until she reached the tiny living room, collapsing onto the sofa. Her knees trembled as she hugged her arms to her chest, trying to steady her ragged breathing.
She sat frozen on the edge of her sofa, knees pressed together, fingers gripping the cushion like a lifeline. Her pulse pounded in her ears, each beat loud and frantic. The distant murmur of voices outside did nothing to soothe her.
Was this real? Did she almost get attacked in her own hallway?
She clutched her scarf tighter, trying to make herself smaller. Tears pricked her eyes, but she furiously blinked them back. No. Not now. Not in front of him.
The voices outside escalated again. The matron’s shrill tone carried into the apartment like a dagger slicing through the air.
"Really? Did she not introduce herself to you as Jellie? Is that woman fooling you and asking for money, too?"
Micah’s reply came smooth and ice-cold, every word precise and deadly calm. “Mrs. Tiburcio, enough. You’re creating a scene, and you’re embarrassing yourself.”
“You—! Instead of defending her, you should leave her to save your a*s. Don’t be as stupid as my husband!” she hissed.
Alondra flinched at the venom in the woman’s voice. Her nails dug into her palms. Any second now, she thought, the woman would barge in and drag her out by the hair.
“I suggest you calm down before you say anything else you’ll regret,” Micah’s voice cut like a blade through the air. “I don’t care what drama you’re playing out with your husband. But dragging an innocent woman into it won’t solve your problems.”
“Innocent?” Mrs. Tiburcio’s laugh was sharp and ugly. “Now you’re conspiring with her. I’ll sue both of you! I’ll make her pay for ruining my family. I’ll—”
“Leave.”
The single word was quiet but carried the weight of an unmovable mountain.
The silence that followed was deafening.
A moment later, Alondra heard the clack of heels retreating, each step echoing with stubborn defiance until it faded completely. Then the distant roar of a car engine.
The door clicked shut.
Micah’s presence filled the apartment before she even saw him. When he finally entered the living room, he was a storm contained in human form. His eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over her.
Alondra shot to her feet, gripping the back of the sofa for support. “What… what happened?” she asked in a small, shaky voice.
“You are not safe here.” His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the finality in his tone.
“She—she’s crazy,” Alondra whispered, rubbing her clammy palms on her skirt. “I… I believe I don’t even look like her husband’s mistress. She must have poor eyesight...”
Micah’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking. “Mrs. Tiburcio doesn’t care about facts. She’s blinded by rage and humiliation. And her kind… they’re dangerous because they don’t think rationally.”
“I… I just wanted a quiet place to stay,” Alondra murmured, her throat thick with unshed tears. Her voice cracked. “I’m already tired, Sir.”
“If you’re tired, I’ll pack your things for you,” he said flatly. “Looks like you don’t have much. Leave it up to me.”
His words pulled her out of her shock. “S-Sir, wait!”
Micah had already turned toward her bedroom when she stumbled after him, panic rising in her chest.
“Sir—Not that one!” she cried as he opened the top drawer. Her face went crimson as she slammed it shut, planting herself in front of it.
He quirked an eyebrow, utterly unbothered. “Relax. I wasn’t planning to rifle through your intimates. I’m trying to help.”
“I-I can pack myself,” she stammered. “You can wait outside.”
But Micah only leaned lazily against the doorframe, arms folded, his expression unreadable. “No. You’ll take too long. Point to what’s ready, and I’ll carry it out.”
She swallowed hard and gestured stiffly to the sealed box of books in the corner. “T-that one.”
Micah crouched and lifted the box effortlessly, his movements controlled and efficient. Watching him, Alondra felt a strange mix of awe and unease twist in her stomach. He looked so out of place in her tiny, cluttered room—too sharp, too perfect, too… dangerous.
By the time she zipped her last bag, Micah was waiting at the door, holding her suitcase in one hand like it was weightless.
“Sir, where are you making me stay?” she asked hesitantly, clutching her scarf.
“In my condo.”
Her heart leapt to her throat. “What? You’re bringing me back there?”
“Do you have a better alternative?” he asked coolly. “That woman will come back here. You think she won’t? She’s desperate to hurt someone... anyone. At least in my condo, you’re safe. Security, surveillance, and me.”
“But...”
“Don’t argue. Pack your dignity and come with me.”
Alondra bit her lip hard as her chest tightened. She should feel relieved. But somehow, she wasn’t sure if she’d be safe… from him, or from the way her heart kept betraying her
- Writer
