The Other Woman Wasn’t Even Pretty - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

The $12 million transfer came through while I was knee-deep in the coffee shop's soft opening. I'd given the place a slight makeover and rolled out some discount coupons - so far, so good.
When my friend questioned whether taking a lump sum buyout was a bad deal, I shrugged. In business, nothing ever goes completely smooth. There are always unexpected twists and turns - that's just how the game works. You can't predict how long anything will last either. A clean break with cash in hand means less headaches. Besides, the last thing I wanted was monthly check-ins with him. My friend nodded, "Can't argue with that. Cash is king."
Emma swung by for coffee during her break, mentioning Jack had just scored some big deal and was buried in negotiations. Meanwhile, Rachel showed up to work sporting a designer bag and uncharacteristically quiet - clearly Jack's peace offering. But Rachel's patience was just biding time for payback.
Karma's a bitch, Jack. You planted these seeds years ago, and now the harvest is coming.
Like that night at the restaurant when Jack and I were having dinner. I spotted Rachel lurking outside the window. Later she sent even racier photos - this time boldly showing half her face. I'd already compiled everything, ready to mail to her husband the second our divorce finalized.
While organizing the files, the doorbell rang. There stood Rachel with freshly dyed, permed hair and my signature lipstick shade. The woman at my doorstep was a different creature entirely - her eyes practically sparking with challenge.
"Miss Whitaker, so sorry to bother you. Mr. Wilson thought he left his household registry here." She tried to brush past me.
I blocked her path. "Jack took it when we signed the divorce papers."
"Is that so?" She fake-pouted. "Well, honestly? I wanted to see you anyway. This whole playing-hard-to-get act with Jack? Maybe he's buying it, but I see right through you. Two years of lurking on his SnapChat tells me everything."
I arched an eyebrow. "Two years of cyberstalking makes you an expert on me?"
Giggling behind her hand, she pushed past me to scan my apartment. "Olivia Whitaker, I actually believed you didn't care. But look at you - the second Jack's gone, you redecorate everything. Afraid you'll start crying into your pillows?"
Just then, our son called out sleepily, "Mom? Is Dad home?"
Rachel's laugh was honey-coated poison. "Jason sweetie, it's Aunt Rachel! Daddy's in a meeting tonight. Maybe tomorrow... well, we'll see."
My fists clenched as I rushed to comfort him, ignoring Rachel's smirk. Our son lay there, small face crumpled with disappointment. I promised him an amusement park trip tomorrow until he drifted back to sleep.
Returning to the living room, I found Rachel lounging with my red wine like she owned the place. I knew exactly why she'd come. Jack's father's birthday was in a few days...