Chapter 2
"Stop!" Jessica saw me standing there, with my arm burned red and my shirt soaked in coffee. For a split second, a flicker of guilt crossed her eyes.
But it was quickly replaced by rage.
I might as well have been invisible. She brushed right past me and went straight to Andrew, gripping his arm with frantic concern.
"Andrew, are you okay? Did he scare you?"
Andrew instantly put on a pitiful act, whining like a wounded puppy.
"Jessica, this guy's a psycho! He barged in waving a fake certificate and tried to take a swing at me. I spilled the coffee by accident. I swear."
Jessica murmured words of comfort to him, but when she turned to me, her eyes were like ice.
"Michael, are you done?"
The crowd closed in around us, employees and guests whispering and pointing.
"So he's just a gold-digger from the sticks."
"Poor Ms. Foster, getting tangled up with someone like that."
I picked up the certificate from the floor, my voice trembling with suppressed fury.
"Jessica, tell them. Is this marriage certificate real or fake?"
Her eyes fell to the certificate, and her face turned pale with anger.
After a few seconds of silence, she snatched it from my hand and, in front of everyone, ripped it to shreds.
Confetti rained down around us.
"I warned you not to test my limits," she hissed with disgust.
"You were just someone my mother forced on me. You've been clinging to me since we were kids. I tolerated you out of some misguided sense of obligation, but now you've gone too far, faking a marriage certificate to cause trouble at my company!"
Then, turning to the crowd, she announced loud and clear.
"My fiancé is, and has always been, Andrew Chambers."
Behind her, Andrew shot me a triumphant smirk.
Jessica gave me one last look.
"Aren't you embarrassed enough? Get out of here before I have security throw you out."
Two guards stepped forward, gesturing firmly toward the exit.
"Sir, you need to leave. Now."
I stood there, feeling like a clown stripped naked for a public execution.
*****
By the time Jessica got home, my bags were packed.
She reeked of alcohol and that nauseating cologne Andrew wore. The moment she saw the suitcases stacked in the living room, her brow furrowed in irritation.
"Michael, what's this tantrum about?" she snapped.
Her voice dripped with impatience.
"Is it about this afternoon? I told you, Andrew didn't mean it. Why can't you be a little more understanding?
"Besides, I've told you my career is taking off. I can't publicize our marriage right now. The whole thing with Andrew is just for publicity. Once the stock price goes up a bit more, I'll call off the engagement. It's not a big deal."
I looked up at her calmly.
"Jessica, let's end this. Let's get a divorce."
She let out a sharp laugh, like I had just told the world's dumbest joke.
"Divorce? Is that your new go-to threat? Don't push your luck. I'm exhausted. I don't have the energy to deal with your drama tonight."
She didn't even spare me a second glance before walking into the bathroom.
The next morning, Jessica got dressed for work like nothing had happened, looking polished and perfect as always.
She probably assumed I would swallow my hurt like I always had and go right back to playing the obedient househusband.
At noon, a package arrived. Inside was a bottle of men's cologne.
The card was in Jessica's looping script.
[Honey, don't be mad. Just a little something to make up for the Baulau trip. Love, Jessica.]
I picked up my phone. An entertainment news alert popped up.
The headline read: [The CEO of Foster Holdings, Jessica Foster, and Andrew Chambers spotted late-night shopping for a million-dollar sports car. Wedding bells ahead?]
The photo showed Jessica leaning over to buckle the seatbelt for Andrew, the two of them grinning at each other like a couple madly in love.
The cologne in my hand was obviously just a freebie that came with the car.
What pathetic compensation.
Her apology was nothing more than a cheap handout she got while flirting with another man.
I could almost hear Andrew, feigning generosity.
"Just give him the freebie, babe. Otherwise, the psycho will start bothering you again."
Our three years of marriage and my three years of devotion were a complete joke.
My phone rang. It was Jessica.
"Did you get the gift? Do you like it?"
Her voice had a trace of smug satisfaction, as if she was showing off just how generous and thoughtful she could be.
The cheap scent stung my nose. Whatever warmth I had left drained out.
"Loved it," I said flatly.
Not five minutes later, Jessica's mother called.
"Michael! I heard you're giving Jessica a hard time again! Why can't you just grow up? She's working her ass off, and instead of supporting her, you go and cause trouble at her office!
"Mr. Chambers is a decent man who helps her so much. Why do you have to give him such a hard time?
"You've been married to Jessica for three years, but she still hasn't gotten pregnant, and now you've got the nerve to give her attitude?
"Listen, the Foster family has plenty of men lining up to marry in. If you keep this up, pack your bags and get out!"
She laid down her threats with smug satisfaction, each word dripping with arrogance.
The TV broadcast the latest headline about Jessica and Andrew's impending wedding.
I spent three years pouring my heart into her. And in the end, it was nothing but a pathetic joke.
Jessica, I didn't want you anymore either. I dialed a number I knew by heart.