Chapter 3
As I reached the elevator, my phone buzzed.
Alisha had sent me a photo.
She was sitting in front of a white piano.
That old crescent-shaped scratch on the side panel. It was the piano my dad left me.
Two weeks ago, when Cayson told me he was short on the surgery deposit, I sold it.
Another text came in right after.
Alisha: [Isabella, the piano's nice, but the color looked a little worn, so I had it repainted.]
By the time I got home, it was already four in the morning.
The living room was pitch black.
There was still half a bowl of cold oatmeal on the dining table.
I'd made it for Cayson before I left.
He probably had dinner hours ago.
Alisha's maternity meal cost three times what I made in a whole night.
My eyes were sore, but I held back my tears.
I'd already cried myself dry in that private room upstairs.
The lock clicked.
Cayson was back.
As he walked in, he spotted the oatmeal sitting on the table.
His brows barely twitched.
"It's so late. Why aren't you asleep?" Cayson asked.
I slapped his medical records down on the table.
"Cayson, are these medical records fake?" I asked.
Cayson loosened his tie and sat down next to me.
He said, "Isabella, I didn't mean to lie to you.
"Alisha just got back, and the gallery needs funding to get off the ground. She's been all over the place since she got pregnant, and honestly, I was afraid you'd get upset and cause trouble if you found out."
"Me? Cause trouble?" I shot back.
He rubbed his temples with a frustrated sigh.
"See? This is exactly what I was worried about," Cayson said.
I was at a loss for words.
On our wedding day, he said both his money and himself would be mine to manage.
I actually believed him.
After his business tanked, I spent my days teaching kids to sing and my nights hustling gigs. Even when my voice was shot, I'd just suck on some herbal throat drops and keep teaching.
My mom kept warning me not to lose myself for him.
I told her straight up, "He's my husband."
Now, my husband was spending the money I worked so hard for on another woman, and he actually had the nerve to blame me for not handling the truth with enough grace.
I shoved the bank statement right in front of him.
"Pay me back," I said.
"I've already spent it," Cayson said.
"Then Alisha will pay me back," I shot back.
His head jerked up, tense.
"Isabella, don't bother her," he said.
I let out a bitter laugh.
"She's using my money, and I can't even ask her about it?" I shot back.
"She's pregnant," Cayson said.
It was the same old excuse.
Her tears, her body, her baby, everything about her was so damn valuable.
I could be singing till I coughed up blood in some dive bar, and he would not be concerned about me.
I turned and walked into the bedroom.
Cayson followed me in, his voice softer now.
He said, "Isabella, it's not what you think.
"Alisha and I used to be together. She had a rough time all alone overseas.
"The baby wasn't planned, but I can't just walk away from her now."
After hearing that, all I wanted was to get out of there as fast as possible.
But when I opened the closet, the white dress that had always been hidden in the back was gone.
It was the dress my mom used to wear in her youth.
Before she passed, she told me, "Isabella, when you get your big break, wear this dress."
I spun around, staring at Cayson in disbelief.
"Where's my dress?" I demanded.
He looked away, clearly feeling guilty.
He said, "Alisha's art show opens tomorrow, and she needs a showstopper outfit for the opening.
"I saw you hadn't worn it in ages, so I just lent it to her."
I brushed past him, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door.
Cayson grabbed my arm.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"I'm going to get my stuff back," I said.
"Isabella!" Cayson called out.
He blocked the door.
"Alisha's art show tomorrow is really important. Don't make things difficult for her right now," he said.
I let out a cold laugh.
"Cayson! She's wearing my dress," I shot back.
"It's just a dress. It's not like it hurts you," Cayson said.
He didn't even think before defending her.
Something inside me just caved in.
Now, even confronting him felt pathetic.
I gave a bitter laugh and nodded.
Cayson let out a sigh of relief when he saw me nod.
He thought I'd just be the obedient wife, like always.
I picked up my phone and sent my first message to my lawyer.
I wrote: [Ms. Miranda, I want to look into any transfers of marital assets.]
Karlee Miranda: [Mrs. Lawrence, you've finally made up your mind?]
I paused for a second, then replied: [I've made up my mind.]