The Price Of Being His

AMARA Being Alexander Hayes’ little secret was worth every sacrifice, every moment of hiding, and every challenge. He had given me everything I never thought I could have. He helped me escape the crushing debt left by my late parents, pulled me from the gutters, and offered me a life of luxury I never dreamed possible. For the past three years, I’ve been living in the shadows, keeping our relationship a secret. But it never bothered me. I didn’t care about being unseen, as long as I had his undivided attention when it mattered most. As long as he made time for me, remembered my birthday, didn’t forget the little things either—like knowing when my monthly cycle arrived, sending me chocolates, and showing me how much he cared in his own way. He made sure I had the best of everything—my wardrobe always stocked with the latest trends, and my collection of diamonds and gold growing with each passing month. I didn’t need to ask for any of it. He just made sure I had everything I could ever want. And at the end of every day, I went to sleep knowing one simple thing: he was mine. That was all that mattered. Don’t get me wrong, Xander never actually said he loved me—those words never crossed his lips. But in the way he showed up for me, in the little gestures, I knew he cared. The few times I crossed paths with his family, or perhaps I should say the few times his family just so happened to run into me while I was at his place, it was always awkward. They never liked me, and I could see it in their eyes, the way they looked down on me. But Xander never let that bother him. He never once hesitated to stand up for me, even if they didn’t understand why. My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden chime of my phone beside me. A smile immediately spread across my face, and without hesitation, I set the bottle of oil down, the one I was using to massage into my skin, and grabbed the phone. I knew exactly who it was—Xander, of course. I had no friends, and I wasn’t the type to mingle with others. The few people I interacted with, aside from him, were mostly just distant acquaintances. The message popped up, and I couldn’t help but grin as I read it: “I’M ON MY WAY HOME. YOU WANT ME TO GET YOU ANYTHING WHILE STOPPING BY YOUR PLACE?” Xander had been away for a month on a business trip, and I’d missed him terribly. I quickly typed back, “YOU DON’T HAVE TO GET ME ANYTHING, I’M NOT HOME.” My lips couldn’t help but stretch into an uncontrollable grin. The thought of surprising him, of him walking into his apartment and finding me waiting for him in his tub, covered in oil—well, it thrilled me. The phone buzzed again, pulling me out of my daydream. His message flashed across the screen: “WHERE ARE YOU AMARA? I KNOW YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS.” It was almost funny how well he knew me. I couldn’t hide anything from him, not even the smallest detail. It felt like he had a way of seeing right through me. “I AM OUT OF TOWN TO HAVE A BIT OF GOOD TIME ALONE, AND MAYBE HOPEFULLY MAKE FRIENDS.” Biting my lower lip, I stared at the screen, waiting for his response. “I HOPE YOU MAKE FRIENDS TOO. CALL ME WHEN YOU GET BACK SO I CAN SEND SOMEONE TO PICK YOU UP.” The words made me smile again. Who wouldn’t want that kind of attention? Who would want to leave with this kind of gesture? “THANK YOU,” I typed quickly before putting the phone down. I picked up my wine glass and took a sip, but before it could get down my throat, I heard the doorbell. I frowned, puzzled. It couldn’t be Xander—he won’t ring the doorbell in his own house. “That had better not be his mother,” I muttered under my breath as I reluctantly pulled myself from the warm water. Reaching for my robe, I wrapped it around myself and quickly tied the sash before making my way downstairs. I reached the bottom of the stairs just as I heard a female voice echo through the hallway. “Is Xander home?” Grace, the housekeeper, responded in her usual calm tone. “No, not yet. He hasn’t been home in a month.” Why was Grace giving out so much information? Frowning, I rounded the hallway to stop at the first-floor landing. From there, I leaned against the railing, my gaze fixed on the woman in the living room below. I’d never forget this woman. She was Xander’s first love, the one who came before me. The one who, if I were honest, haunted me in the back of my mind. Xander had just broken up with her when we started seeing each other, and he had made it clear from the start that I was nothing more than a rebound. I didn’t care back then—but now… now, I cared. More than I wanted to admit. Maybe I had convinced myself that Isabelle was gone for good—that she was a part of Xander’s past that would never resurface. Maybe that was why I never really felt threatened by her before. But standing at the top of the stairs, watching her in the living room, l felt uneasy. I took a deep breath and straightened my back before walking down the stairs to confront her. I didn’t care who she was anymore; I wasn’t going to let her waltz back into Xander’s life without making it clear that I wasn’t backing down. “Who are you?” I demanded, playing the part of someone who had no idea who this woman was. “And what are you doing here?” Isabelle slowly turned her head towards me, her gaze meeting mine with a calm, almost amused expression. There was something about her—something that told me she wasn’t just a blast from Xander’s past, but someone who still had a place in his life. She looked me up and down with a soft, stoic expression on her face. “You must be Amara.” I raised an eyebrow. How the hell did she know my name? As if she had read my mind, Isabelle smiled, a slow, knowing smile that made my stomach twist. She stood up from the couch and started walking towards me. She made her way up the stairs, closing the distance between us. “Xander told me a lot about you.” My face twisted in confusion and irritation. “I beg your pardon?” Isabelle stopped right in front of me, her eyes trailing slowly over my body. I felt her gaze starting from my oiled-up legs and moving upward, lingering for a moment longer than I was comfortable with. She paused at my face, her lips curving into a small, amused smile. “Xander mentioned you a few times,” she mused. “I guess the rebound s*x between you both was really great for him to have mentioned you a few times when we were having a conversation.” I was left speechless, my mind racing as I tried to process the words she had just thrown at me. How was I supposed to react when I found out that the man I had been sleeping with—and, perhaps foolishly, starting to care about—had been discussing our private moments with his ex? Isabelle smiled, clearly enjoying the discomfort she was causing. “Don’t look so surprised, love,” she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You aren’t the first rebound relationship he’s had since we broke up. However, you are going to be his last—especially since he’s been hinting at marriage and kids.” What. The. f**k. Was. Happening? Xander had been talking about marriage and kids with her? How was I supposed to take that? I crossed my arms in front of me, trying to appear stronger than I felt. “Xander isn’t home right now, so I think you should come back later.” Isabelle’s eyes locked onto mine. “I know he’s on his way from the airport.” She deadpanned, her voice even, unbothered. “After all, we’ve been communicating.” I had never heard Xander speak to her, not once. “You don’t believe me?” Isabelle asked with a mocking chuckle, clearly enjoying the way she was getting under my skin. “How did you think I got to know about your affair with him? Something the public doesn’t know?” I hated myself for even beginning to doubt my own understanding of the situation. Slowly, her words began to take root in my mind. I forced myself to stay calm. “Like I said, Xander isn’t ho—” “He hinted at getting married and having babies, then told me to come home.” Her voice dropped lower, raspier, as she took a step forward, closing the small space between us. “What do you think that implies?” “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” I gritted out. Isabelle chuckled again while nodding, stepping back as if she had accomplished exactly what she’d set out to do. “I came here today to give you some advice, and I think I’ve done just that. If you want to remain with him and get hurt, then please, be my guest.” With that, she turned on her heel and sashayed out of the house, leaving me standing there, seething in her wake. And just like that, everything that had been building up in me—the excitement of seeing Xander, the plans I’d been making—was ruined. The mood for tonight was completely destroyed.