Chapter 3

The next day, I went with Jerome to see his friends and family.

I never thought he'd bring Vivian, too.

Vivian had her arm linked with his, and the two of them looked like a match made in heaven. Standing next to them, I just felt like a total third wheel, nothing but background scenery.

"Is that Delia? When did she get so gorgeous?" someone asked.

Someone else explained, "The one all dolled up is the mistress."

At dinner, Vivian slipped off her shawl. Her sequined mermaid dress hugged her curves in all the right places. With her flawless makeup, she made the whole feast look dull in comparison.

The guys were practically drooling over her, unable to tear their eyes away.

Jerome's eyes flashed with warning, and the men quickly looked away. Suddenly, I became the center of attention.

"Delia, you're still working even after marrying Mr. Lopez?" someone teased.

Honestly, I really hated visiting Jerome's distant relatives.

Jerome's relatives might be poor, but they were all hopeless cases who'd never amount to anything.

They used Jerome's name to sneak into the Lopez Group, thinking they'd made it big just by clinging to his coattails.

My job as a bucket list planner meant I was always dealing with people on death's door, which they thought was super unlucky. They'd whisper behind my back that I was way out of Jerome's league.

Seeing me keep quiet, they got even more shameless. "Delia, you really need to quit that depressing gig. Isn't it just bringing bad vibes to Mr. Lopez?

"Mr. Lopez, you should try to convince her," someone suggested.

Jerome just sat there, totally unfazed. He didn't even bat an eye at their comments and stares, just kept eating like nothing was going on.

Usually, he'd step in and shield me from their snarky remarks, but this time, he just let them pry into my business without lifting a finger to help.

One of the brazen ex-cons started airing out my past. "Delia, I heard you almost got molested by your stepdad back in the day. Is that true?"

Every single pair of eyes in the room landed on me at once.

I felt fretful, like I was on trial and they were all judging me.

Vivian piped up, "Come on; stop asking. Delia was forced; she had no choice."

There was a brief, awkward silence before Vivian fanned the flames, making it sound like everything was true.

The relatives shot me weird, judgmental looks.

People started whispering to each other.

"Trash like her could never be good enough for Mr. Lopez."

"No wonder Mr. Lopez went looking for someone else."

When I was in middle school, my mom remarried and she moved us in with her new husband.

He started eyeing me in a way that made my skin crawl.

One night, while my mom was asleep, he snuck into my room and started touching me inappropriately.

He threatened me, saying that if I didn't go along with it, he'd kick me and my mom out on the street.

My mom even pleaded, "It's just a touch. It's not like you'll lose an arm or a leg. At least, we'll have somewhere to live and something to eat."

I couldn't agree with her. I studied my ass off, got into a top school in Janielle, and cut all ties with them after that.

"Mr. Lopez, was Delia really a virgin on your wedding night?" the ex-con pressed, catching Vivian's signal and just wouldn't drop it.

Jerome's face went stormy, but he couldn't blow up in front of family, so he just held it in.

If he said yes, everyone would know about his amnesia. So he just clammed up.

I gripped my fork, kept my mouth shut too, fighting back the tears.

Having my old wounds dragged out in public felt like hell, but I just had to swallow it and stay silent.

After dinner, Jerome yanked me into the bathroom. He glared at me, questioning, "Delia, you know he never actually hurt you. Why didn't you just tell them the truth?"

The wound on my arm hadn't even healed yet, and his grip pressed so hard that it started bleeding again, staining my white shirt.

"Delia, I'm sorry. I had no idea..." Jerome's words caught in his throat, guilt written all over his face.

He tried to take me to get my wound cleaned up, but I pulled away from him.

"You know I wasn't hurt by him. So why didn't you say something for me?" I shot back, my voice trembling.

Jerome couldn't answer. He just bolted, terrified that if he stayed any longer, his secret would get out.

Anyway, I'd be gone in two days. If he wanted to keep pretending he'd lost his memory, that was his problem, not mine.