Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Buttered toast, freshly brewed coffee, juicy slices of orange, and even my favorite eggs benedict with shiny strips of bacon dripping with cheese and béchamel sauce or whatever it's called—
"Good morning, Nicole. How are you feeling?"
Not the King of England then, I think dizzily, but someone almost as...out of reach.
It’s Mr. Everford joining me in the balcony, fresh from the shower, and somehow looking more handsome even when he's dressed more casually this time in a sweater with sleeves pushed to his elbows and khakis.
"G-Good morning, Mr. Everford." I manage to get the words out even though all of this still feels...weird.
"Don't you think we're past that—"
I start shaking my head.
"—now that your husband has started telling people how you and I have been having an affair behind his back?"
But I end up collapsing in a chair instead at his words.
"H-How did you know?" I whisper.
"Is it not natural for me to know what people have to say about me?"
I open my mouth to answer—
"Or perhaps you're used to not knowing about what people say about yourself?"
But instead I end up sputtering.
Just when I start to think he might be a good man, he just goes ahead and says something like that.
"You really think I'm stupid, don't you?"
"By birth? Not at all. But by choice?"
All I can do is gape at him.
Is this man for real?
He knows I’m still...I’m still processing!
So how dare he—
Riiiing.
"Will you excuse me? I need to take this call."
He walks away without waiting for an answer, but his words keep echoing in my head.
Stupid...by...choice.
And while a part of me wants to just yell at him for saying something so mean, another part of me is thinking...
Was it true, though?
It’s the most incredibly humiliating thing to swallow, but...what if it’s true?
What if that’s all I’ve been these years?
Stupid and blind.
By choice.
No one's ever called me that to my face but Mr. Everford.
Because...everyone's been lying to me except for him.
They all think I'm stupid, and worse, they want me to stay stu—
The sound of the doorbell ringing breaks me out of my thoughts, and I'm grateful for the distraction. I don't even think about what I'm doing. I'm just glad I have something to do, and so I open the door, thinking it's someone who either works for the hotel or Mr. Everford—
"I knew you'd be here!"
But instead it's my mother-in-law barreling in, and all I can do is cry out as she grabs me by the hair and drags me back inside the suite.
The pain is immediate and disorienting, and I can't believe this is happening. A 64-year-old woman in pearls is dragging me by the hair across a London billionaire's suite.
"How can you do this to my baby boy?"
She lets go of my hair just to slap me on the cheek, and all I can suddenly think of is...no!
So when Risa raises her hand to slap me on the other cheek—
I make a run for it.
Yes, run.
Because I’m still not the confrontational type, but at least I’m not as much as a wimp as I used to be, and so I just...
Run.
And just like I expected...
She runs after me.
Or at least she tries.
But since she's twenty years older and twenty kilos heavier—
I know she can never catch me.
So I slow down just enough for her to think otherwise.
I just want her away from Mr. Everford.
"You bitch!"
I think she's saying that because I took the stairwell and not the elevator.
It’s a very smart thing to do, and that needs to be said because I’m not as stupid as everyone think I am, and so Risa with her bad knees on a stairwell is Risa who's going to lose her breath after one flight—
"I'll kill you, I swear!"
—and apparently still keep yelling while she does.
My thoughts drift back to my husband's boss even as I continue running down the stairs like I’m training for, I don’t know, whatever it is that other people train for when I see them running up and down the stairs.
I wonder how long will it take for him to realize I'm not coming back, and I wonder if he’ll think I’m ungrateful and...and ill-mannered for not even—
"I'm ordering you to stop!"
Mr. Everford might've called me stupid to my face more times than I care for—
"I always knew you didn't deserve to be Sandy's wife!"
—but I'm starting to remember all those Sunday school lessons I had when I was a kid.
Wounds from a sincere friend are better than many kisses from an enemy.
I don't know if he sees me as a friend or if he's just a billionaire who's taken an interest in me because he's bored.
"Do you know why he never let you work?"
I don't even know if he's my enemy with how he seems to enjoy drawing attention to all my bad points.