My Mother Faked Her Death To Protect My Husband’s Mistress Chapter 10
Some Things Stay Dead
I look down at her quietly. At the woman who gave birth to me and then destroyed every bit of hope I had left.
The memories have been coming back for days, one by one.
Yes. I remember now.
But remembering does not mean forgiving.
I take one step back and pull my leg out of her hands.
“Ma’am,” I say, my voice flat and calm. “When I was sick, I looked for you so many times.”
Her face goes still.
“I waited outside my office. I waited outside restaurants. I thought I saw you everywhere.”
I look into her eyes.
“But you never once came to me.”
Mom’s pupils widen.
Something like terror moves across her face.
“You remember?” she asks, her voice shaking.
I do not answer.
“You wrote in your suicide note that your life could save my marriage.”
My mouth curves, but there is no smile in it.
“Well, you have your life back now.”
I pause.
“And I don’t want the love you tried to buy with it.”
Then I close the door without hesitation.
Her sobs break through the door.
Through the peephole, I see Elliot run out from the stairwell.
He has no umbrella. He is soaked through.
He helps Mom up, but his eyes stay locked on my closed door.
The look he gives it is desperate and pleading.
He stays there in the rain all night.
The next morning, the rain finally stops.
I open the curtains, then open the apartment door.
Elliot is still standing in the hallway.
His clothes are damp and wrinkled. His face is pale. His lips are blue from the cold.
When he sees me, something lights in his eyes.
“June…”
He says my name carefully, as if breathing too hard might scare me away.
“You remember, don’t you?”
He tries to smile, but it falls apart before it becomes one.
I hand him a document.
It is the same divorce agreement.
My name is already signed at the bottom.
“This is the last time I am giving this to you,” I say.
He stares at the papers in my hand.
“If you don’t sign, I will file for divorce. Then your role in Mom’s fake death, and any assets tied to it, will all come out in court.”
Elliot’s expression freezes.
He looks at the pen in my hand as if it could kill him.
“June,” he whispers. “I’m begging you.”
His knees buckle.
He drops onto the cold tile floor and reaches for the hem of my clothes.
“Give me one more chance.”
His voice breaks.
“I’ll give you everything. All my money. All my property. I’ll do whatever you want.”
He looks up at me with red, ruined eyes.
“Can we start over?”
I look down at him, reduced to this.
But all I see is another memory.
Elliot in the stairwell, using that same gentle voice to comfort Claire.
Telling her not to cry.
Telling her to keep the bracelet.
Telling her he would come to her later.
“Elliot.”
My voice is quiet.
“Some things stay dead.”
His fingers tighten around my clothes.
“Like my mother’s legal identity.”
I place the pen in his hand.
“Like my love for you.”
His whole body starts to shake.
“Don’t make me take the last bit of dignity you have left.”
Elliot stares into my eyes, searching for even the smallest trace of softness.
There is none.
At last, he understands.
The lie he thought he could control had doomed him from the start.
He lowers his head.
Tears hit the page and blur the black ink.
His hand shakes as he signs his name, slowly and heavily.
I take the agreement back.
Then I turn away without looking at him again.
Early winter sunlight breaks through the clouds and spills onto the street.
I take a deep breath.
For the first time in years, the air feels cold, clean, and free.
That morning, the nightmare I had lived in for years finally ends.