I Took My Husband’s Mistress To Her Appointment. Then Sent Them Both To Prison Chapter 08
Back home, I stood in the foyer and took in the house Rhys and I had shared for five years. I bought it when we decided to marry, and I had chosen every detail with care.
The beige sofa was firm enough to sit on and soft enough for Rhys to collapse into whenever he came home exhausted. I had chosen bright paintings so the rooms would never feel lonely.
Breakfast still sat on the kitchen table. The toast and eggs had long gone cold. Beneath the plate was a note in my handwriting.
“One minute in the microwave.”
For five years, no matter how often he traveled or how late he returned, I made an extra portion and kept it warm in case he came home hungry after midnight. I always left the foyer light on for him.
All along, he had already been eating in another woman’s home. I swept the food and the note into the trash.
My phone vibrated. It was a message from my attorney.
“Ms. Rowland, the petition for dissolution, civil complaint, and request for a temporary restraining order have all been filed with the Los Angeles Superior Court.”
“The recordings, original video files, and social media materials you provided have been formally preserved as evidence. The materials concerning the vehicle attack, forged documents, and identity fraud will be delivered tonight to the LAPD and the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office.”
“The judge reviewed the emergency request. Because there is no immediate, ongoing threat of physical harm at present, the court has not issued an ex parte no-contact order. A formal hearing has been scheduled for next week.”
“A licensed process server will formally serve Rhys Sterling tomorrow morning with the divorce petition, civil complaint, restraining-order request, and notice of hearing.”
I replied with a simple, “Thank you.”
After showering, I sat on the couch and saw that Rhys had transferred one and a half million dollars into my account.
I couldn’t help laughing.
Before he came home, Livia had shown me her dressing room. Any one of the pieces of jewelry she rarely wore was worth more than a million dollars.
Rhys probably thought he had handed me a fortune large enough to buy my gratitude, obedience, and silence. I stared at the number and felt only disbelief.
Eight years.
That was my price to him.
Less than one piece of jewelry she barely wore.
Near midnight, Rhys came home wrapped in a heavy cloud of perfume, as though he’d tried to drown out another scent. He looked tired. Out of habit, he leaned toward me and tried to rest his head on my shoulder.
He used to call it “recharging.”
I would always shift so he could lean more comfortably, then gently massage the tension from his brow. This time, the perfume couldn’t hide the unmistakable musk of sex.
Nausea surged, and I jerked away. He stopped, straightened slowly, and his expression darkened.
“Genevieve.” His voice was rough and impatient. “
“I kept my promises, didn’t I? I said I’d marry you, and I did. I said I’d protect you, and I have.”
“Livia used the baby to pressure me into divorcing you, and I never agreed. I sent the money too.”
He looked at me as if I were a difficult child.
“What else could you possibly be unhappy about?”
I said nothing. I could only stare at him and wonder how one man could be this shameless—and this certain he was righteous.
Perhaps my silence unsettled him. His brow furrowed, and his tone softened with unusual patience.
“Enough. Stop the drama. All you want is a child, isn’t it?”
“After Livia gives birth, you and I can have one. Just don’t let her find out. She’s young, and she gets difficult when she’s upset.”
A quiet laugh escaped me.
“Rhys.” I stopped laughing and looked directly at him. “What makes you think I would ever have another child with you?”
He blinked, then gave me that indulgent, helpless look and shook his head.
“Come on, Genevieve. We’ve been married for years. How long are you going to sulk?”
His voice warmed as if he were announcing a wonderful surprise.
“You’ve always wanted to go to the Maldives. I booked tickets for tomorrow morning.”
“I need to stay with Livia tonight, but get some rest. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
Then he turned and left. The door opened and closed.
I remained on the couch.
The Maldives?
When I had wanted it, he refused to give it to me. Now that I wanted nothing from him, he was desperate to shove the old dream back into my hands.
What a shame.
Tomorrow, he wouldn’t find me waiting.
He would receive a divorce petition, a civil complaint, and a request for an order prohibiting him from contacting or harassing me—along with notice of the hearing.