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)
"Because I knew you'd just cause trouble for him!"
But it doesn't matter either way.
"So I told him to keep you out of sight!"
He told me the truth when everyone's been lying to me.
"And eventually, Sandy saw what I saw from the start!"
And for that, I will always think of him—
"He deserves a wife who doesn't have a slut for a mother!"
—as my friend.
Chapter Six
"YOUR MOTHER'S HAD AN accident, Mr. Everford."
My back goes rigid. “Where is she now?”
“Operating room, sir.”
Chimney provides the details of my mother’s operation, and after asking him to keep me posted, I make the necessary calls to my staff. The sooner I’m back in London, the better. Once done, I head back to the balcony and frown when I find no sign of Nicole.
I check her room, but she’s not there either.
“Nicole?”
I check the other rooms, but they’re all empty. So are the en-suites. The powder room. I even check the study, but she’s not there either, and all the clue I have left is the front door she’s left halfway open...on her way out.
A muscle starts ticking in my jaw as I leave the suite. I can only think of one place—one person—that she’ll run back to, and of course it has to be her husband.
The douchebag.
I tell myself to just fucking let it go as I step inside the lift. But the more I think about how she’s already caught him cheating with her own eyes, and yet she’s still choosing to go back to him—
It’s while I’m still seeing red over this that the lift doors open, and a couple of executives in my company are about to step in. But then they take one look at my face, and they all suddenly start remembering something they forgot—anything to keep them from joining me in the lift.
The doors close, and I’m still alone.
Because she’s choosing the douchebag over me.
The lift opens its doors again, and I step out. The bellman greets me, my suitcase already with him, and I nod in thanks. My staff will take care of their tips.
Montero is already holding the door of the limo open as I exit through the revolving glass. “Still the airport, sir?”
I nod.
“Understood, sir.”
This is how I like my staff to operate. Efficiently and effectively, with zero time wasted, and in thirty minutes' time, I'm at the airport, the jet is on standby, and immigration is just a formality.
The lounge at the private terminal is mostly empty at this hour. A woman in her thirties is sitting near the window with a coffee. Blonde, expensively dressed, the kind of polished that takes effort to maintain at this hour of the morning. She makes no attempt to hide her interest in me, and I make no attempt to hide my disinterest in her. Eventually, she gets it, and she looks away petulantly.
An official hands me back my U.K. passport, and just like that I'm on a return flight to London.
The moment the door of the cabin closes behind me, the operational silence I've been moving through for the last hour collapses, and what's left is—
This.
The cabin is quiet. The crew know better than to speak unless spoken to. The leather of the seat against my back. The single glass of whisky the steward has placed on the table beside me without being asked. I don't reach for it.
My thoughts are divided. A part of me is strangely outraged at having Nicole walk out on me. The other part is struggling not to overthink about my mom being in an accident. Eventually, I choose the lesser of two evils. With my mother already in surgery, there’s nothing I can do but let sleeping dogs lie.
But Nicole, though...
I remember her pale, tear-streaked face and her trembling body in my arms.
Please help me.
I remember her asking for my help.
And yet...
She still fucking left.
She still chose the douchebag who cheated on her, and I’m just fucking done.
She really is an idiot, and from this moment on, I'm no longer wasting another second on her.
Chapter Seven
THE BUS PULLS INTO the station, and the brakes hiss as it stops.
I can’t believe at what point did I fall asleep, but it doesn’t feel long enough, and my back hurts in a place I didn’t know my back had. My neck hurts, too. My hips. My legs. I’m not sure if it’s because of my age or lack of exercise. Or maybe it’s simply because I had a really comfortable life in the past twenty years...in exchange of subconsciously playing dumb and blind to everything my husband was doing.
I look down at my dress, which is all crumpled and dirty. I bought it to celebrate the very first time he’s introducing me as his wife to his work buddies. But instead, this ended up being my the-day-my-marriage-crumbled dress.