Chapter 7: Gold Digger

Before I could exit, the woman called out from behind me in her nasal voice. “Yeah, go on. Get out of here, you witch.”

Slowly, I turned. This woman had some nerve. This was my husband she was putting her claim on—not that I wanted him. Even Luca behaved better than Owen, and I was sure the mob boss had his own crimes. “Excuse me?” I said, getting irritated now.

She flipped her long brown hair in that obnoxious way girls do when they’re being flirty or self-conscious. Maybe she was intimidated by me, whether from the fact that she knew hers was an illegitimate relationship or from my general I-don’t-care attitude, I didn’t know.

She chose to double down. “You’re not welcome here. Can’t you see he doesn’t want you?”

I looked from her to Owen, who had said nothing to refute it. Something like guilt, regret, or discomfort did cross his features, though. Well, maybe the man did have a conscience, but it was too little, too late.

She may have had a point, and it may have been petty of me, but I said, “Au contraire. I think it’s me that has the disinterest here. I am the wife, you know. Heck of a jump up from dirty little mistress, don’t you think?”

“If you were so great, he wouldn’t need me to fulfill his needs,” she countered, though she didn’t sound as confident as before.

“You think you’re his only mistress?” I laughed. “Cute.”

The woman gasped in outrage, lunging for me. I stepped around the couch to get out of her path, which placed me further into the room and left Owen at my back. The woman didn’t like that, advancing from the other side of the couch.

“Vanessa, stop,” Owen said, barely audible. He wouldn’t dare order me. If he did, I’d turn on him again.

The woman—Vanessa—looked at him and nodded. “She’s not worth it, anyway.”

The cash I’d shoved at her had ended up on the floor, but I picked it back up and held it out. “Here. You dropped this.”

“I’m not some prostitute,” Vanessa said, lifting her chin. “Owen loves me.”

“You’re not?” I arched a brow. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to be with him unless there’s money involved. So, what is it? Are you a gold digger? In it for his billions? Might I remind you that all he has he married into, and you won’t see a dime of it.”

The mistress gaped at me, looking from me to Owen and back. One side of my lips turned up. So, she had been in it for money.

Owen didn’t seem to notice how flustered she was at my declaration. In ten short, angry steps, he was at the door, yanking it open forcefully. He went to shove me out, but I wasn’t going to let him put his hands on me again, not in love or in anger.

“Stop this, Owen!” I yelled, pushing back. In a tangle of shoving limbs, I ended up on the floor. Glaring up at my cheating spouse, I blew a strand of my hair out of my face. “Really?!”

It reminded me of all the times when I ended up dead before waking at my twenty-seventh birthday party. I gained two years of my life back by some twist of fate, and I wasn’t about to repeat history.

This further cemented my decision to leave him.

Standing, I grabbed my purse, which had fallen during the scuffle. I adjusted my blouse, straightened my skirt, and reached for the door handle. “You can have her, husband dearest. I’m sure she has sooo much more to offer you. But I won’t be a part of this anymore.”

Owen paled. The consequences of his actions didn’t look good on him. But what did he expect? Cheaters never prosper, and eventually, he was bound to get burned.

He tried to grab my arm, but I slid it out of his grip, not willing to give him any more of my time.

“Fay,” he said, but I kept walking. “Fay, wait.”

He motioned for his mistress to stay in our house, where I could see her glaring from the doorway. Then he followed me toward our driveway. “Fay, there’s something different about you, and I’m not sure it’s a positive change,” he said, hastening to keep pace with me.

“I’ll tell you what’s different. I’m no longer accepting your crap.” Not sparing him a glance, I fumbled with my keys to open my car. My hands were shaking, and I couldn’t get a good grasp on the fob. I needed to get out of here before I broke down.

Owen kept talking. “Fay, we can fix this,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“There’s nothing left to fix. Our relationship is broken beyond repair, and it takes two to mend something so shattered. Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—I wouldn’t begin to be able to forgive you for everything you’ve done.

“You’ve used me, betrayed me, and broken my heart. There is no fixing us. Frankly, there is no us.”

“You don’t mean that, Fay,” my husband said. “You can’t.”

“I can and I do. You did this to us. You broke the trust, and I can’t go back. It can never go back to how it was.” Finally, I got the car to unlock, the click of the locks the only sound in the heavy air between us.

“Let me make it up to you,” Owen begged. “I’ll leave her. I’ll leave all of them.”

“No.” It was the only word I had for him.

Owen grabbed my arm and pulled me toward him despite my protest. “I’ll be a better man. Please. Please, Fay.”

“You aren’t capable of that,” I responded, my voice monotone and emotionless even to my own ears.

“I am,” he said, but I’d heard too many lies from him. I wasn’t about to believe another.

Owen took a deep, ragged breath and closed his eyes. “Then I’ll remind you of what we have.”

In one swift motion, he leaned in for a kiss.