The Wife He Rejected Became His Aunt

Chapter Five:We Need To Talk

I stared at those four words for a long time.

We need to talk.

Three years of marriage and that was what he sent. Not an apology. Not even a question. Just a statement that put the burden of response on me. Like I was the one who owed him a conversation.

I put my phone face down on the table.

The coffee in my cup had gone cold. I had not finished it. I left some money on the table and picked up my bag and walked out into the afternoon air and stood on the pavement outside Mara's for a moment just breathing.

My mind was doing too many things at once.

Ethan's words were still sitting heavily inside me. Marcus had known who I was before we met. His father had land that belonged to my mother. My marriage had possibly been a plan from the very beginning. I was turning these things over and over trying to find a place where they did not fit and I could not find one.

Everything fit.

That was the worst part.

All those small moments I had pushed aside over three years. The way Marcus sometimes asked casual questions about my family history that I thought were just curiosity. The way his father Daniel had looked at me at our wedding with an expression I could not quite name at the time. The way certain conversations in that house would stop when I walked into the room.

I had told myself I was imagining things.

I had not been imagining things.

I started walking. I did not have a direction. I just needed to move. The street was busy and I walked among people who had no idea that my entire life had just been rearranged in the space of one morning and one coffee shop conversation.

My phone buzzed again.

Marcus.

I answered it this time.

"Where are you," he said.

"Outside," I said. "What do you want."

"I told you. We need to talk." His voice was controlled. That careful voice he used when he wanted to seem reasonable. I had always found it reassuring before. Now it made something in me go tight.

"So talk," I said.

"Not over the phone, Lena. Come home. We can sit down like adults and discuss this properly."

Like adults. As if I was the one behaving like a child.

"I have already spoken to a lawyer," I said.

Silence.

Not long. Just a breath. But I heard it.

"You did not waste any time," he said.

"Neither did you," I said. "Two years, Marcus."

Another silence. Then he exhaled. "I know. And I am not going to insult you by making excuses. But there are things about our situation that are more complicated than you know. Things I should have told you a long time ago."

I stopped walking.

He should have told me.

Ethan had said the same thing. That there were things I deserved to know. Now Marcus was saying it too. But the difference between the two of them was that Ethan had actually told me. He had sat across from me and handed me information without asking for anything in return.

Marcus only wanted to talk when things were falling apart.

"Come home," he said again. His voice was softer now. "Please. Just one conversation."

I thought about saying no.

I thought about calling Ethan back and asking him what he thought I should do. Then I stopped myself because I did not need someone else to think for me. I had spent three years softening my own instincts to keep peace in my marriage. That was finished.

"I will come," I said. "But understand something. I am coming to listen. Not to be talked out of anything."

He said okay.

I did not believe him.

He was in the sitting room when I got home.

He had changed his shirt. His hair was neat. He had made tea and set two cups on the coffee table like we were about to have a civilized discussion about something ordinary. It almost made me laugh. Almost.

I sat down across from him and put my bag beside me and looked at him and waited.

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and looked at the floor for a moment. When he looked up his eyes were tired.

"I know what I did was wrong," he said.

"Yes," I said.

"And I know sorry is not enough."

"No," I said. "It is not."

He nodded slowly. Like he had expected that. "I want to be honest with you. About everything. About Diana. About us. About some things that go further back than our marriage."

My chest tightened.

Further back.

"I am listening," I said.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "When I met you it was not entirely by accident." He stopped. Looked at me. Waiting for a reaction.

I gave him nothing.

He continued. "My father introduced me to the situation. Your family background. The property connection. He wanted me to get close to you. To understand what documents you had access to. What you knew about your mother's estate."

The room was very quiet.

"He wanted you to marry me for that reason," I said.

"He suggested it," Marcus said. "But Lena I want you to know that somewhere along the way that changed. My feelings for you were real. Whatever you think of me right now I need you to know that."

I looked at him.

He looked back.

And I searched his face for the man I had loved for three years and I found traces of him there. In the tiredness around his eyes. In the way his hands were clasped too tightly together. He was not lying about his feelings. I believed that much.

But feelings had not stopped him.

Feelings had not made him choose me.

"What does your father want," I said.

Marcus hesitated.

"The land," I said. "My grandfather's property. That is what this is about."

His eyes changed. Just slightly. Surprise. Then something careful.

"You know about that," he said.

"I know enough," I said.

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "My father is going to move fast now that things between us have broken down. He has lawyers already. Lena, I am telling you this because whatever happened between us I do not want you to lose what belongs to you."

I studied him.

"Why are you telling me this," I said. "If your father finds out you warned me he will not be pleased."

Marcus looked at me and for the first time since I had walked into that hotel room the night before I saw something real in his face. Not love exactly. Not guilt exactly. Something that sat between the two.

"Because I owe you that much," he said quietly.

I picked up my bag.

I stood up.

"It is not enough," I said. "But I heard you."

I walked to the door.

Behind me he said my name once.

I did not turn around.

Outside I sat in my car and pulled out the plain white card Ethan had left on the table at Mara's.

Just a number.

I picked up my phone.

And I dialed.