Leaked

Chapter 3

The following day, everyone leaves. I escort the last group of people to the airport, and on the ride back to the hotel, I sleep on the backseat of the car.

When I wake up later, I find myself in bed. Noah is on his laptop. He looks up and smiles when he sees me already up.

“I made food for you,” he says, setting the laptop aside.

“Thank you,” I reply, reaching for my phone, but it’s not in my pocket.

“You’re looking for this?” he asks, holding my phone.

“Yes,” I reply, reaching for it. He walks to me and sits on the bed.

“Did my boyfriend call you while I was asleep?” I ask, smiling, and unlocking it.

“No, he didn’t. But your other husband did,” he says.

“Mm… did you guys have a good chat?” I ask, and he smiles. But suddenly, his smile drops.

“You need to stop joking about everything. Scoot over,” he says and gets in bed with me.

“What if it were true?” I ask, scrolling through my phone. I look up just in time to see the thoughtful look on his face.

“Then the other guy has to scoot over in this relationship. I’m not leaving,” he says, laughing after. I smile as his laugh has always been infectious, one of the things I love about him.

“What if it was flipped? And I was the one in multiple relationships?” he asks.

“You are already, and I’m still here, so,” I reply, not looking up. “That should answer your question, Mr Prime Minister.”

The look on his face takes me aback a bit because he doesn’t look shocked that I know.

“You knew that I knew?”

“Isla, no one can investigate me without me knowing,” he says and chuckles.

“You knew I was investigating you?”

“Yes, I led your investigator to the evidence,” he says.

Come to think of it, powerful as Noah is, how else would my investigator land on such crucial information at such speed?

I grab the pillow when the realization hits me, and as I’m about to hit him with it he dodges. I keep trying until he grabs it.

“Isla, I’m an old man. If you hit me with this pillow, that might be the end of me,” he says, and it makes me laugh until I fall back on the bed.

“When were you planning on telling me about Omar?” he asks calmly.

“What about Omar?”

“Your boyfriend, Omar,” he says, turning in bed so that we now face each other.

“Ex. My ex-boyfriend,” I reply.

“Mm…” he says, nodding his head, “You two spent a night together the week before our wedding, but okay. What about Don? He’s a good friend of mine, probably ten years older than me. What about the baby? You were pregnant for 2 months last year,” he sees the shocked look on my face and continues, “I’ve been around a pregnant woman, of course I can tell when a woman is pregnant.”

I lay in bed feeling like everything I ate is coming up from my stomach.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” I say looking away from him.

“Was this the plan all along? To use me to climb the political ladder?” he asks, and I sit up slowly.

“It was, initially,” I reply.

“You investigated me to get some dirt on me before I found out your secrets,” he says, and it sounds as if he has known this for a long time.

“I found out about your plan a few weeks after you hatched it. That’s a decade ago,” he says, laughing bitterly.

“Why… why didn’t you say anything? Why did you defend me in front of your family, and especially your children?” I ask.

“I prepared everything for you to go back home,” he says, “Start getting ready now because your flight leaves in a few hours.”

I get down from the bed and start walking to the bathroom.

“Lydia and the twins are my late brother’s family.”

In the shower, I don’t think about anything, even though I have so much to think about. It feels like my brain has given up altogether.

Later, as I’m fixing my hair, having dressed up, Noah comes to the bathroom. He’s already dressed as well.

I feel my body tense up when he begins walking towards me. I flinch hard when he leans forward to grab my wedding ring, which I had hung on the ring holder.

He takes my hand and slips it back into my finger quietly.

“I… Noah, is there…”

“Don’t go to the office until I’m back in the country,” he says, finally looking up and our eyes meet.

“Noah…”

“Islaaa,” the way he drags out my name makes me shut up, “My heart is not made of stone,” he continues, fixing my hair.

I sleep on the flight back home to escape the current drama in my life.

When we land, Noah calls the driver picking me up and instructs him about something. Later, we get in the car, and he starts driving to an unfamiliar location.

“This is not the direction to my house,” I say, panicked.

“Mr Cross instructed me to take you to this location, ma’am,” he answers calmly.

“No, take me to my house,” I say quickly.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I strictly follow Mr Cross’ orders from now on.”

I fall back on the seat and finally connect the dots. The calm at the hotel was preceding this storm. Who knows what place he’s taking me to. Probably a warehouse, where he’s torture me to death. That’s what they do in movies, right?

By the time my brain starts working again, and I decide to call someone, it’s already too late because we have arrived.

The driver opens the door for me, and I step out. The sight before me makes my heart almost stop for the millionth time today.

The greenery, the mansion, the flowers, the fountain, everything, just as I had described to Noah. My dream home.

“Ma’am, this way, please,” the driver says, and I follow him.

Every detail as I had told him. The flowers, not a shade darker. The fountain, exactly as I had imagined it in my head. I don’t even think I described it this well to Noah.

At the door, two women greet us with excitement.

The interior of the house is what gets me. I don’t realize I’m crying until the driver passes me a handkerchief.

“Ma’am, sir, instructed us to prepare your bath. Would you like to do it now? One woman asks, and I nod.

A few hours later, the women from earlier lead me to the set table, and Noah is already sat, eating and chatting with another woman.

“Isla, these are our helpers: Judith, Nana, and Imelda,” he says, standing and pulling the chair for me. I smile at the ladies, still confused by all that’s happening.

“There’s so much food. Join us everyone. Call the ones outside as well,” Noah says while sitting down.

Soon, everyone starts coming in and sitting down at the table. Noah introduces me to them all.

“These have been my loyal employees for decades,” he says and they smile politely. “Imelda even changed Rain’s diapers all of his childhood,” he adds.

“Oh, sir, it’s always enjoyable working for you,” Imelda says, and the rest of the employees start talking about their best memories working for Noah and his family.

“I remember it was Mrs Cross, may she continue resting in peace, who bought me my first phone,” one says.

“She was so kind to us. She footed the whole bill for my father’s kidney surgery while she herself was sick,” another adds.

“Oh, sir, you didn’t tell us your new wife was a candidate in the governor's elections,” one says, bringing the conversation to me.

I smile and Noah holds my hand, which almost makes me jump out of my seat.

“Will you guys vote for her?

“Yes. She's so pretty like my daughter,” one of them says, and we laugh.

Soon, they get caught up in other conversations, and I look at Noah, still holding my hand, still chatting with everyone. He looks so relaxed and happy.

He looks at me and finds me staring at him and says, “Did you like this home?”

My words are caught in my throat as I try to keep the tears in my eyes from falling.

When most of the food is gone, Imelda is asked to show me to my room by Noah. I follow her upstairs, observing every detail of the house.

She leads me to a big room that looks like the master bedroom. When I’m left alone, I start looking around and see Noah’s things. Part of me sighs in relief and another in nervousness.

Just then, my phone rings.

Don.

“You didn’t tell me you were back from your little honeymoon,” he says, and just when I’m about to say something, the phone is snatched from my hand.

Noah ends the call and tosses the phone on the bed. He starts taking off his clothes.

“I just wanted to tell him to leave me alone. I…”

“We have a party meeting tomorrow, and I’d like you to be there,” he says.

“A party meeting? Is everything okay?” I ask.

“It’s just a small meeting to inform everyone that you’re stepping down from politics,” he says.