Chapter 2
In our second year of marriage, something happened.
Jordan liked street racing.
It wasn't the official kind. It was underground. People could gamble on it and lose their lives out there.
Jordan's dad had yelled at him about it more times than I could count, but it never changed a thing.
One night, Jordan had a race lined up.
I had no clue about it.
I was in the living room when he was getting ready to head out.
He picked up his phone, and his expression darkened.
"Yeah, got it," Jordan said.
He hung up and headed for the door.
But as he reached it, he suddenly stopped.
"Tilda," he called out.
"Yes?" I answered.
"If... I mean, if I don't make it back tonight, tell my dad it wasn't his fault. It wasn't because he pushed me. I wanted to die," Jordan said.
He left without another word.
I was frozen for three seconds.
Then I got up, changed into something else, and went after him.
When I arrived, the race was about to kick off.
It took place in an abandoned industrial zone. Run-down and rusted factories filled the area.
Dozens of people were milling around. They were spoiled brats from Ulgarin, looking for a thrill.
Jordan was standing next to a souped-up car, deep in conversation with someone else.
I recognized him right away.
He was another one of those spoiled heirs from Ulgarin, Derick Ray. He and Jordan had been rivals for years.
"Jordan, going all in tonight?" Derick grinned.
Jordan didn't say a word.
"Loser admits defeat and hands over that land in East District. Are you in?" Derick pressed.
The crowd started egging them on, shouting and whistling.
Jordan's face looked pretty sour.
I knew exactly why Jordan looked so tense.
The East District land was a huge deal that the Wilkinson family had been working on. It was worth billions.
If he actually bet that land, his dad would lose it. He might even kill him.
But with everyone watching, there was no way he could chicken out.
I made my way over.
"Jordan," I called out.
He turned and saw me, looking stunned for a moment.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
I smiled, slipped my arm through his, and said, "I couldn't miss your big race."
He looked down at me, a storm of emotions flickering in his eyes.
Derick spotted me too, and his eyes lit up.
"Well, Mrs. Wilkinson actually showed up. Now that's a rare sight," Derick teased.
I smiled at him.
"So, Derick, what's on the line tonight?" I asked.
He pointed at Jordan. "The East District land. Does your man have the guts?"
I turned to look at Jordan.
Jordan's hands balled into fists.
"Derick, that East District land doesn't even belong to the Wilkinson family yet. Don't you think betting something you don't actually own is a bit much?" I said.
Derick's expression darkened.
"So, Mrs. Wilkinson, what do you want to put on the line?" he asked.
I thought for a moment.
"Alright, I'll take his place in the race. If I lose, the Wilkinson family walks away from the East District land. If I win, you hand over your club to me," I said.
The crowd went dead silent.
Jordan grabbed my arm. "Are you out of your mind?"
I ignored him and locked eyes with Derick.
He sized me up for a moment, then broke into a grin.
"So, Mrs. Wilkinson, you actually know how to drive?" Derick teased.
"A bit," I said.
"Sure," Derick replied with a smirk.
He stepped back, grinning. "Alright, let's see what you've got."
Jordan pulled me aside.
"Tilda, what exactly are you trying to do?" he asked.
I looked at him.
"Do you trust me?" I asked.
He was stunned.
"What?" Jordan blinked.
"I'm asking you. Do you trust me?" I said.
He opened his mouth, but couldn't get a word out.
I patted his hand.
"Wait for me," I told him.
I won that race by a long shot.
Derick's expression looked grimp.
Jordan was standing by the finish line, looking completely stunned, like he was in a daze.
I got out of the car and walked over to him.
"What are you spacing out for? Go claim your club," I said.
He looked at me, his head bowed.
He looked like he had never met me before.
"You..." Jordan's voice was rough. "When did you..."
"I went through pro racing training back in college. Almost made it as a racer, but then my dad's company ran into trouble, so I had to quit," I said.
He went silent.
Derick came over, his face twisted like he'd swallowed a fly.
"Damn, Tilda, you've been hiding your skills," he muttered.
I smiled.
"Derick, I'll send someone to pick up the club transfer papers tomorrow," I said.
He clenched his jaw and turned to leave.
The crowd broke up and wandered off.
Jordan stayed put, watching me.
"Tilda," he said.
"Yes?" I answered.
"Why'd you help me?" he asked.
I paused, thinking it over.
"Because you're my husband," I said.
He looked down, not saying a word, lost in his own thoughts.
That night, for the first time, he actually invited me out to eat.
It wasn't some fancy place. It was a food truck on the street.
He ordered a ton of food and even got us a bottle of booze.
I snatched the glass from his hand and downed it in one go.
He stared at me, surprised. "You know how to drink?"
I smiled and filled up my glass again.
"Yeah, I can," I said.
"But at that party last time..." he asked.
"I was faking it," I replied.
His eyes got even darker as he looked at me.
"Tilda, how many secrets are you keeping from me?" he asked.
I didn't answer.
That night, we drank a lot.
He got drunk and leaned on my shoulder, mumbling under his breath.
He said, "You know, since I was a kid, I couldn't stand people telling me what to do. Dad, Mom, and Grandpa all tried to run my life.
"So I thought marrying a wife would mean one more person trying to keep me in line.
"But you... you're not like that.
"You don't nag me, don't get on my case, never snoop through my phone, and never grill me about where I've been.
"Sometimes I stumble in late, half-drunk, and the living room light's still on. You're there, reading a book.
"I think that maybe you're actually not so bad."
He fell asleep.
I sat there, watching him for a long time.
Then I helped him up and walked him back home.
After that race, things between us changed a little.
He would still not come home for dinner and go out drinking.
But every now and then, he'd text me. [Won't be home for dinner tonight.]
I replied: [Got it]
Jordan asked : [What are you up to?]
I replied: [Reading.]
Jordan: [Okay.]
It was simple stuff, but we'd never talked like this before.
When his mom came over, she looked genuinely surprised. "Has Jordan changed lately? He actually called me yesterday to say hi."
I said, "Maybe he's finally growing up."
His mom smiled.
I had no idea that even bigger trouble was about to hit.
One night, I got a call.
It was Jordan's assistant.
"Mrs. Wilkinson, there's trouble," he said urgently.
I got the details, changed clothes, and headed out.
According to his assistant, a friend of Jordan's had run into trouble with a business partnership.
Their partner wasn't exactly legit. They brought in some debt collectors to corner them.
Jordan happened to be there, so he got dragged into it too.
When I got there, he was cornered in an alley.
There were a dozen or so thugs, all holding clubs.
Jordan was pressed up against the wall, his face pale.
I walked straight into the alley.
"Who's in charge here?" I asked.
A bald guy turned around and sized me up.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked.
"I'm his wife," I replied.
He laughed. "His wife? So, are you here with cash, or are you the payment?"
I smiled back.
"I'm here to make sure you all end up behind bars," I said.
Three minutes later, the alley was full of guys groaning on the ground.
Jordan stared at me, his mouth wide enough to fit an egg.
"You know how to fight? What's with those people behind you?" he stammered.
I patted the shoulders of a few of my friends standing nearby.
I explained, "These guys are my fellow trainees from the dojo.
"I've been training with them for six years. Back when my dad's company was drowning in debt, they were always there for me."
I waved at my friends. "Sorry, looks like I'll be counting on you again."
My friend thumped his chest. "Leave it to us, girl."
I turned to Jordan and gave his shoulder a quick pat. "Let's get out of here."
He walked behind me, silent the whole way.
Before we got home, he suddenly spoke up. "Tilda."
"Yes?" I answered.
"Was it tough for you before?" he asked quietly.
I froze for a moment, caught off guard.
"What?" I said.
"Those years when your dad's company was in trouble... was it rough for you?" he asked quietly.
I stayed silent for a few seconds.
Then I smiled.
"It's all in the past now," I said.
He stayed quiet.
That night, for the first time ever, he didn't go out.
When I stepped out after my shower, I saw him crashed out on the couch, TV still playing, totally asleep.
I grabbed a blanket and covered him up.
He shifted, blinking awake, still groggy.
"Tilda?" he mumbled.
"Yes?" I answered.
"Why do you treat me so well?" Jordan mumbled.
I looked at him, not really knowing what to say.
He didn't wait for an answer. He was asleep again before I could reply.
I sat beside him for a long while.