I Took My Husband’s Mistress To Her Appointment. Then Sent Them Both To Prison Chapter 02
An hour later, we arrived at the Sterling family’s estate in Bel Air. Security guards ringed the property, just as Livia had said. She swept inside as if she owned every inch of it.
I tried to follow, but one of the guards blocked my path. “Who are you? Outsiders aren’t allowed inside.”
I stood under the blazing sun, yet cold seeped all the way into my bones.
Livia turned at the commotion and slipped effortlessly into the role of lady of the house. “She’s my patient advocate. Let her in.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I barely registered her pulling me into the foyer.
“Come on,” she said brightly. “Don’t be shy. Make yourself at home.”
My gaze dropped to the shoe cabinet. Beside a pair of men’s slippers sat several pairs of absurdly pink, fluffy women’s slippers.
An unopened box of baby shoes and tiny socks was stacked nearby. I forced air into my lungs and stepped inside on unsteady legs.
“Sit down. I’ll get you some water.” She smiled and disappeared into the kitchen.
I couldn’t make myself sit. More than a dozen wedding portraits covered the walls—some formal and black-tie, others staged like a seaside ceremony.
In every frame, Rhys held her from behind or kissed her with a tenderness that made it hard to breathe. A crushing weight settled on my chest.
Because our marriage was secret, Rhys had never taken a single wedding photo with me. If I accidentally caught him in the background of a selfie, he would lose his temper.
Yet here, he had displayed his love for another woman on every wall.
Livia returned with a glass of ice water and laughed. ” A little over the top, right?”
“Rhys insisted on taking every one of them—and hanging them all up. He wanted everyone to know I was his.”
I accepted the water and forced a bitter smile. “It’s obvious your boyfriend loves you.”
“He’s not bad.” She tried for modesty, but pride glittered in her eyes. “He remembers everything I say, even when I’m joking.”
“I mentioned that I liked flowers once, and now he has a different bouquet delivered every day, no exceptions. Look. We’re practically running out of room.”
I followed her gaze. Flowers of every kind nearly swallowed the entire balcony.
The summer breeze moved through them, making the scene look soft and impossibly romantic. I tried to remember the last time Rhys had given me flowers.
Never.
Every holiday, I dropped hints. He would frown, call flowers a consumerist scam, and tell me to stop following those performative couples on Instagram.
Three years of dating. Five years of marriage.
Eight years. He had never given me a single bouquet.
Yet in another home, one casual remark from another woman became law.
“Oh, let me show you something,” Livia said, leaning closer with a secretive smile. She opened TikTok on her phone. “
“We have a couples account. It follows us from the day we met until now. More than a million people follow us.”
The profile picture was a photo of their intertwined hands. The account was called Rhys & Livia.
The pinned video’s cover showed Rhys behind her, arms locked around her waist as he kissed her earlobe. My fingers went cold as I tapped it.
The caption read, “Before I met you, I never knew what it meant to fall for someone.”
Then I saw the date it had been posted.
Four years ago.
The first year of my marriage to Rhys.