I Found His Mistress... Wearing My Ring - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
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The line crackled as Ray took Christine's phone. His voice turned sickeningly sweet, dripping with fake remorse. "Susan, don't get the wrong idea. That was just a bridal ad shoot. The crew was shorthanded - director begged me to step in."
My fingers clenched the phone until the edges bit into my flesh. His lies didn't even register anymore. After a beat, I forced a razor-thin smile into my tone. "And Christine's little monologue? Was that in the script too?"
I heard his sharp inhale but barreled on, words laced with poison. "So which was it - a commercial or some sick fantasy about the mistress stealing the wife's life? You'd know better than me. And Christine? Oscar-worthy performance. Tell me, Ray - was she channeling personal experience or just really committed to method acting?"
My words sliced through the line. For once, the great Ray Palmer was speechless. The silence between us grew thick enough to choke on. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked. "Susan... you're imagining things."
"Am I?" My retort could've frozen hell over.
Because when you've loved with your whole soul, betrayal feels like going under for the third time. Memories flooded in - all the things I'd given up for him.
Years back, when my parents relocated overseas for work, they'd pleaded with me to come. Mom even sent photos of my would-be bedroom - straight out of a magazine with its blush-toned furniture and princess-worthy canopy bed. A life waiting to be claimed.
Then the Palmers' accident happened. Fifteen-year-old Ray got left holding the bag - a crumbling business, a mountain of debt, and two fresh graves. That night, he'd clung to me like I was the last solid thing in his world, voice shaking: "Susan, please. Don't go. You're all I've got left. I swear to God, I'll spend my whole life making you happy."
So I stayed. Turned my back on family, futures, everything - for fifteen goddamn years of believing in promises that turned out to be worthless.
That night, I crawled into bed early, the phantom ache in my womb a cruel reminder. Sleep came in fits and starts between waves of realizing how thoroughly I'd been played.
At 3 AM, Ray stumbled in reeking of bourbon, shirt half-untucked. But it was the shit-eating grin on his face that made my skin crawl. "S'okay, babe," he slurred, bracing against the doorframe. "Been busy lately. That wedding thing? Total fake. Christine just wanted to play dress-up. Consider it... employee perks."
Fresh rage burned through me, but he plowed ahead like he was granting me clemency. "I know you're pissed, but hey - I'm letting it slide."
He lurched toward the bathroom, emerging minutes later buck naked. My stomach turned as he approached the bed, blind to my revulsion. "C'mere," he mumbled, fumbling with my nightgown buttons. His touch made my flesh crawl. "Let's make a baby. You'll be too busy to invent drama."
The knife twisted deeper. He'd never know about the life we'd already created - and lost - because of his cheating.
When his whiskey-sour mouth came at me, I shoved with everything I had. "Get the hell off me!" The scream ripped from my throat.
Ray went sprawling, shock morphing into fury as he scrambled up. "Jesus, Susan! You done with this tantrum?"
I shot upright, chest heaving. The man before me bore zero resemblance to the broken boy I'd loved. "Shouldn't you be on your honeymoon with Christine?" I spat. "You've screwed her - keep your hands to yourself."
Ray's face did this horrible twitchy dance - guilt, anger, panic. Color drained from his face. Finally, he croaked: "So you know."
The confirmation shattered whatever was left. "Why, Ray?" My voice shook. "Just tell me why."
Instead of answering, his mouth twisted into this ugly smirk. "What guy doesn't step out sometimes?" The condescension made me want to vomit. "I was trying to spare you the humiliation, but you just had to drag it out."
He leaned against the doorframe, oozing arrogance. "Christine's younger. Hotter. Always right there." A shrug. "You know how I am. Why couldn't you just look the other way? You're only making yourself look pathetic."
I actually laughed - this broken, jagged sound. The walls seemed to press in, the air thick with the stench of his betrayal.
"You're disgusting." I swung my legs out of bed, marched to the door and wrenched it open. "Get. Out. I never want to see your face again."
His phone chose that moment to blare from his jacket pocket. Christine's squeal pierced the room: "Baby! Best news ever - I'm pregnant! It's really happening!"
My fingers clenched the phone until the edges bit into my flesh. His lies didn't even register anymore. After a beat, I forced a razor-thin smile into my tone. "And Christine's little monologue? Was that in the script too?"
I heard his sharp inhale but barreled on, words laced with poison. "So which was it - a commercial or some sick fantasy about the mistress stealing the wife's life? You'd know better than me. And Christine? Oscar-worthy performance. Tell me, Ray - was she channeling personal experience or just really committed to method acting?"
My words sliced through the line. For once, the great Ray Palmer was speechless. The silence between us grew thick enough to choke on. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked. "Susan... you're imagining things."
"Am I?" My retort could've frozen hell over.
Because when you've loved with your whole soul, betrayal feels like going under for the third time. Memories flooded in - all the things I'd given up for him.
Years back, when my parents relocated overseas for work, they'd pleaded with me to come. Mom even sent photos of my would-be bedroom - straight out of a magazine with its blush-toned furniture and princess-worthy canopy bed. A life waiting to be claimed.
Then the Palmers' accident happened. Fifteen-year-old Ray got left holding the bag - a crumbling business, a mountain of debt, and two fresh graves. That night, he'd clung to me like I was the last solid thing in his world, voice shaking: "Susan, please. Don't go. You're all I've got left. I swear to God, I'll spend my whole life making you happy."
So I stayed. Turned my back on family, futures, everything - for fifteen goddamn years of believing in promises that turned out to be worthless.
That night, I crawled into bed early, the phantom ache in my womb a cruel reminder. Sleep came in fits and starts between waves of realizing how thoroughly I'd been played.
At 3 AM, Ray stumbled in reeking of bourbon, shirt half-untucked. But it was the shit-eating grin on his face that made my skin crawl. "S'okay, babe," he slurred, bracing against the doorframe. "Been busy lately. That wedding thing? Total fake. Christine just wanted to play dress-up. Consider it... employee perks."
Fresh rage burned through me, but he plowed ahead like he was granting me clemency. "I know you're pissed, but hey - I'm letting it slide."
He lurched toward the bathroom, emerging minutes later buck naked. My stomach turned as he approached the bed, blind to my revulsion. "C'mere," he mumbled, fumbling with my nightgown buttons. His touch made my flesh crawl. "Let's make a baby. You'll be too busy to invent drama."
The knife twisted deeper. He'd never know about the life we'd already created - and lost - because of his cheating.
When his whiskey-sour mouth came at me, I shoved with everything I had. "Get the hell off me!" The scream ripped from my throat.
Ray went sprawling, shock morphing into fury as he scrambled up. "Jesus, Susan! You done with this tantrum?"
I shot upright, chest heaving. The man before me bore zero resemblance to the broken boy I'd loved. "Shouldn't you be on your honeymoon with Christine?" I spat. "You've screwed her - keep your hands to yourself."
Ray's face did this horrible twitchy dance - guilt, anger, panic. Color drained from his face. Finally, he croaked: "So you know."
The confirmation shattered whatever was left. "Why, Ray?" My voice shook. "Just tell me why."
Instead of answering, his mouth twisted into this ugly smirk. "What guy doesn't step out sometimes?" The condescension made me want to vomit. "I was trying to spare you the humiliation, but you just had to drag it out."
He leaned against the doorframe, oozing arrogance. "Christine's younger. Hotter. Always right there." A shrug. "You know how I am. Why couldn't you just look the other way? You're only making yourself look pathetic."
I actually laughed - this broken, jagged sound. The walls seemed to press in, the air thick with the stench of his betrayal.
"You're disgusting." I swung my legs out of bed, marched to the door and wrenched it open. "Get. Out. I never want to see your face again."
His phone chose that moment to blare from his jacket pocket. Christine's squeal pierced the room: "Baby! Best news ever - I'm pregnant! It's really happening!"
End of I Found His Mistress... Wearing My Ring Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to I Found His Mistress... Wearing My Ring book page.