Chapter 4

He cheated, and yes, I cried and made a scene, but what then? Divorce?

I'd only been married for half a year, and I was pregnant. Where would I go?

Back to school, where everyone would whisper about me being the rich family's reject?

Or go home, making my mom lose face along with me?

If I wasn't going to divorce him, what could I do?

Make him promise he'd never do it again?

Not even a ghost would believe that.

So there was only one path left: since I couldn't change the fact that he cheated, I had to at least get something out of it.

That storefront was just the first payout.

That September, Lysander spent a whole week in Azure Cove with Seraphina.

I was at home, my belly so big it looked like I was smuggling a watermelon, waking up every night with leg cramps, hobbling around alone.

The housekeeper suggested calling Lysander, but I waved her off; he was busy.

A week later, he showed up with a bag for me.

"Honey, I brought you a souvenir from Azure Cove. Take a look, see if you like it," he said.

I opened it; it was a limited-edition Hermès bag.

I set the bag aside and said, "Did you have fun?"

He paused for a moment. "What?"

"So, was Azure Cove a good time?" I pressed.

His face darkened. "Let me explain—"

"No need to explain," I cut him off. "I know you're busy, and I know you have your social obligations.

"But you also know I'm stuck at home, pregnant and bored out of my mind," I said.

"So next time, could you at least give me a heads-up?" I added.

He let out a sigh of relief. "Alright, alright, I'll make sure to tell you in advance next time."

The next day, he handed me a document, a 5% stake in the company, with annual dividends.

"Honey, this is for you. Just a token of my appreciation," he said.

I looked it over and accepted it.

After he left, I rubbed my belly and whispered to the baby inside, "Kiddo, your dad might not be the most dependable, but at least he's generous.

"Mom's going to stash away enough money for you so you'll never have to bow to anyone for the rest of your life."

The baby gave me a kick, like he was saying, "Deal."

*****

In May 2018, I gave birth to Christopher.

In the delivery room, my mom and Philomena were there with me, but Lysander was missing.

Where was he?

It turned out that he was out walking the red carpet with Seraphina at some awards show, giving interviews and basking in the limelight.

The nurse handed me my baby, a wrinkled little bundle, looking just like a grumpy old man.

As I cradled him, tears spilled down my cheeks out of nowhere.

It wasn't sadness; it was a wave of relief.

"Christopher, Mom finally has you," I murmured to myself, my heart full.

Lysander didn't show up until the next day, waltzing into the hospital with a massive bouquet of roses and a diamond bracelet.

"Honey, you've worked so hard," he said.

I looked at the bouquet. I guessed that kind of rose was going to show up a few times a year from then on.

"Have you picked a name for the baby yet?" he asked.

"Philomena said Christopher, Christopher Coldwell," I replied.

"Great name," he said, leaning in to check out the baby. "Looks just like you, handsome little guy."

I just smiled and kept quiet.

Did the child take after me? Was he sure?

Those eyes and brows of his were clearly carved from the same mold as his.

But I didn't say a word.

From then on, I started keeping a record.

Not of daily expenses, but of every time he cheated, every apology, and every "compensation" he offered.

Year one: a storefront.

Year two: 5% stake in the company.

Year three: a riverside condo.

Year four: a limited-edition sports car (sold it, banked the money).

Year five: a beachfront villa.

Year six: the management rights to Aura Clinic (I let a professional team handle it and just waited for the monthly dividends).

Year seven...

The compensation list kept growing, my smiles became more restrained, but inside, I felt steadier than ever.

Vanessa asked me, "Autumn, how do you do it? Living with a husband who cheats on you day in and day out, and you still manage to keep a straight face?"

"You treat your husband like your boss and your marriage like a job, and you still find it funny?" I said.

She looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

I explained, "You've dealt with crappy bosses at work, right? Did you ever quit just because your boss sucked? No, because you need the paycheck."

"Same thing here. Lysander is a crappy boss, but this job pays well, has awesome perks, and the year-end bonus is huge. Why would I walk away?" I added.

Her eyes widened. "Doesn't it hurt?"

I thought for a moment and said, "Yeah, it hurts. But what can I do about it? Cry? Throw a tantrum?

"Turn myself into some bitter, resentful wife? And then what?"

"He'll still cheat, and I'll still feel miserable. So instead, I turn the pain into dollars.

"Every time it hurts, I tell myself: 'Hey, that's another house paid for.' Thinking like that, it doesn't sting so much," I detailed.

She was quiet for a long time before finally saying, "Autumn, you're really ruthless."

I shook my head. "I'm not ruthless. I just see things clearly now."

By 2024, seven years into my marriage, I was twenty-eight.

Seven years were enough to reinvent a person.