Chapter 2
There were footsteps in the hallway outside. It was the wedding planner looking for us.
James took a deep breath, bent down to pick up the photos, and looked through them one by one.
Then he looked up at me. "If you knew about this six months ago, why did you still go through with the wedding?"
"Because that's when my dad was diagnosed with late-stage liver cancer," I said. "The doctors said he had at most six months left. His biggest wish was to see me marry into a good family."
As I said those words, I realized I wasn't crying.
My nose stung a little, but my eyes stayed dry.
Maybe I'd already cried myself out six months ago, when I pretended I didn't know anything, and my pillow soaked up every last tear.
James opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
There was a knock at the door. The wedding planner's voice came through the door. "Mr. Carter, Ms. Bennett, are you almost ready? The guests downstairs are asking."
"Almost," I answered for him.
I stood up, took James's hand, and pressed a ring into his palm.
It was the wedding ring. He was in such a rush earlier that he left it with the groomsmen.
"Put it on," I said. "Let's go and get this wedding over with. I promised my dad he'd see me in a wedding dress."
"Olivia..."
"Let me finish," I said, meeting his gaze. "After the ceremony, I'll tell everyone that I'm not worthy of being Mrs. Carter. As for my dad, I'll talk to him myself."
"You want a divorce?"
"Do you really want to spend your whole life with me?" I let out a bitter laugh. "James, you've loved Emily for twelve years.
"Since high school, she's been the one you could never let go. She's your secret obsession and your unreachable ideal.
"I was a stand-in, someone to fill the gap while she was overseas for those four years."
He didn't deny it.
That was the cruelest part. He didn't even bother to deny it.
The bright lights in the dressing room made every emotion on his face stand out.
His lips moved, but all he managed to say was, "I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize," I said, gathering up the train of my wedding dress. "Lucky for you, my dad died last week."
His eyes went wide.
"Liver cancer, complications, twenty-three days in the ICU," I said. "I was planning to keep up the charade until the very end, but he didn't live to see the wedding."
James reached out to grab me, but I stepped back, dodging his hand.
The wedding dress was so heavy, I almost tripped, and he reached out to steady me.
In that instant, I caught a whiff of perfume on him, not mine, but Emily's.
I pushed him away, hard.
"Let's go," I said. "Let's finish this act."
For the rest of the ceremony, I walked the entire aisle with James, my arm hooked through his, seeing it through to the end.
His hands trembled as he slipped the ring onto my finger, and I forced a smile when I said, "I do."
The crowd thundered with applause, the champagne tower glittered under the lights, and for a moment, everything seemed flawless, like a fairy tale.
But only James and I knew it was all a bubble, about to burst.
During the toast, I changed into my reception dress. While James was changing his shirt, I slipped out of the dressing room, walked to the hotel lobby, and dialed a number.
It rang once before someone picked up.
"Ms. Bennett," a steady male voice answered. It was my attorney, Joe Collins.
"Joe, you can start the divorce proceedings," I said. "But I want to add one more condition."
"Go ahead," Joe said.
"I want every bit of evidence from the abortion Emily had with him six months ago included in the divorce case.
"Hospital records, surgery consent forms, bank transfers in his name, the apartment lease, every piece of evidence. I want it all submitted."
"Got it," Joe said, pausing for a moment. "Ms. Bennett, there's something I'm not sure I should say."
"Go ahead."
"With all this evidence, you could make Mr. Carter lose a lot in the divorce. But if you're doing this to vent..."
"It's not about venting," I cut him off, my voice cold. "It's about making sure he knows. Some debts always come due."
After hanging up, I turned around.
David was standing at the end of the hallway, a half-finished glass of red wine in his hand, watching me with a complicated look in his eyes.
"I was here the whole time you were on the phone," he said.
I leaned against the wall, saying nothing.
"Olivia," he said, stepping closer, his voice low. "James truly did you wrong. But Emily, she's always been in poor health, and James was only taking care of her, that's all."
"Only taking care of her?" I tilted my head, sarcasm in my voice. "Did he take care of her right into her bed?"
David swallowed hard, then sighed and set his glass down on the windowsill.
"I don't care what you guys mean by 'taking care of her,'" I said. "And I don't care how much you think Emily deserves your sympathy. There's only one thing I know."
For seven years, more than 2,500 days and nights, I stood by James, from his days as a sales manager in a tiny firm all the way to becoming VP at a listed company.
When he was hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer, I never left his side for two weeks straight.
When his mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was the one who took her to six hospitals, searching for help.
And when his business was on the brink of collapse during the toughest New Year, with only 10,000 dollars left in the company account, I handed over my secret savings I'd saved for five years so he could pay his employees their bonuses.
David's face changed.
"And what about Emily? She was out studying abroad, showing off photos overseas.
"Then, as soon as James made it big, she came back, claimed she was depressed and needed someone to take care of her, and he dropped everything and ran to her side."
My voice wasn't loud, but the hallway was so quiet that every word echoed in the silence.