Chapter 3
I walked down the street, lost and dazed. A few women from my country were chattering nearby.
"Élisa is living such a peaceful life now. Posting pictures of her kids and husband every day."
I looked up and realized I had walked right up to Jeffrey's house.
"Peaceful life? More like she went from side piece to wife."
"That guy is at least ten years older than her. And I bet the real wife back home has no idea."
I watched them laugh and walk away. Then I crouched down by the side of the road.
Using her Valish name, I clumsily searched for Lisa's Instagram.
The pinned post was a wedding photo.
She wore a white wedding dress. The wind lifted her veil, covering half her face.
Jeffrey hugged her from behind. Behind them was a vast coral reef.
The timestamp said six months ago.
Back then, Jeffrey was always flying to Dravena for work. I told him not to overdo it.
Turned out he wasn't busy with work. He was busy planning a wedding with Lisa.
My fingers kept scrolling down, almost on their own.
Three months ago. Their twins were born. A photo of Jeffrey holding Lisa in a hospital hallway.
The caption read: [Hard work, babe.]
That same day, the stand‑in he hired knocked on my door.
My hand was shaking as I held the phone.
My baby was already three months along.
I hadn't even told Jeffrey the good news before the stand‑in he hired came clean to me.
It felt like a heavy stone was crushing my chest.
My phone dinged. A new photo was loaded just now.
Lisa lay on the bed, her tank top strap slipping off her shoulder.
Jeffrey's big hand sank into the soft curve.
The caption said: [Being a mom is so hard. Good thing I have my husband to help.]
Soon came the comments.
[You two are so sweet together.]
[Élisa, your body is amazing. If I were a man, I'd go after you.]
That comment quickly got pushed to the top.
An account with no profile picture replied with two words: [She's mine.]
The tone was possessive. No room for doubt.
I stared at those two words until my eyes turned red.
Before I married Jeffrey, when he got his memory back and returned to his wealthy and powerful family, he took me to his first family dinner.
He couldn't stand them picking on me. He stood up to his family under all that pressure.
One of his family members broke a walking stick on his back. Barely able to breathe, he still put himself between me and them.
He said, "She's mine."
After a while, Lisa replied with a lazy drawl: [My husband's insanely jealous. Why do you have to mess with him?]
My hands shook as I tapped on the blank profile. The bio had nothing but a phone number.
Without thinking, I dialed.
The call connected. A grunt came through.
It was Jeffrey's voice, low and muffled. Then a stream of Valish poured out.
I felt like someone had shoved broken glass down my throat. I couldn't squeeze out a single word.
He said it again. Then a woman's broken voice came through. "Too full..."
But the only thing answering her was the sharp squeak of mattress springs being pushed to their limit.
"Let's get a divorce," I said.
The words left my mouth, and for some reason, I felt a strange sense of relief.
The line went quiet for a moment.
His voice was still thick with leftover desire. "Who's this?"
"It's me," I said.
Jeffrey cleared his throat. "Sharon? Why are you calling all of a sudden? The project meeting isn't over yet..."
"When you're done, remember to come back and sign the divorce papers," I said.
He sounded annoyed. "Don't be dramatic. So what if I hired a stand‑in to keep you company? I really can't get away. I'm working this hard for you, aren't I?"
I laughed until tears came. "Were you really doing it for me?"
As if to answer my sarcastic laugh, he went at it even harder.
The bed squeaked a few times. Then a woman's satisfied moan drifted over from his side.
"So good. I'm so full of you," she gasped.
"Jeffrey, you bastard!" I cursed.
I hung up. I was shaking so badly that I couldn't control it.