Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 28033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“I know this can feel intrusive, but as your lawyer, I need to confirm certain details for our records.”
“Of course.” I’m genuinely confused. The arrangement I have with my husband is the best. The past eight years have been nothing short of perfect, and—
“Our files indicate an amendment to your marital agreement,” Shayla says quietly, “dated approximately six years ago. This amendment acknowledges that your husband maintains a long-term companion outside your marriage, with monthly financial provisions allocated for her residential and personal expenses.” She pauses. “I need to confirm for our records that you were aware of and consented to this arrangement.”
The words reach my ears.
But they don’t make sense.
I hear them, but they’re just...sounds. Shapes. Nothing that connects to meaning.
Long-term companion.
Monthly financial provisions.
Residential and personal expenses.
“Mrs. Gazis?”
Shayla’s voice sounds very far away.
“I’m...sorry.” I try but fail to keep my voice from wobbling. “Could you...could you repeat that?”
Leonidas...
Mistress...
Six years.
Property purchased by him...for her.
All expenses paid.
“According to the documents we received from your previous counsel, this arrangement was reviewed and approved by your designated executor.” A pause. “With your consent.”
The room tilts.
My ginger lemonade sits untouched, growing cold.
And my heart...
Who knew my heart could hurt this much for a man I’m not in love with?
Lexy
Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Lexy stared at them—her own hands, familiar and foreign all at once—as they fumbled with the zipper of her suitcase. The mechanism caught on fabric. She yanked too hard. The zipper held.
Stop it. Just stop.
She forced her fingers to slow, to breathe, to function like they were supposed to. One item at a time. Fold the blouse. Place it in the suitcase. Reach for the next thing.
The hotel room felt too large around her. Too quiet. The afternoon light slanting through the floor-to-ceiling windows turned everything golden and soft, completely at odds with the sharp-edged confusion tearing through her chest.
In the car ride back from Shayla’s office, she’d tried to make sense of it. Tried to logic her way through the impossible equation that didn’t balance.
An amendment to their marital agreement.
Six years ago.
With her consent.
But she had no memory of consenting. No memory of discussing a mistress. No memory of agreeing to monthly financial provisions for another woman’s residential and personal expenses.
She couldn’t see Leonidas lying to her. Forging her signature. Eight years of marriage, and he had never once broken his word. Never once deceived her. Their entire arrangement was built on honesty, on promises kept, on mutual respect for the boundaries they’d drawn together.
And Tio Samuel...no. Impossible. The older man had been a friend to both her late father and to Leonidas’s family for decades. He’d held her when she cried at her father’s funeral. He’d walked her through every clause of her marital agreement with patience and care, making sure she understood what she was signing.
He would never deceive her.
Which left only one possibility.
She had signed it herself.
Too humiliated to call Tio Samuel and confirm what she already suspected, she’d asked Shayla for a copy of the amendment instead. The lawyer had provided it within the hour, sent directly to Lexy’s phone as a PDF.
And there it was.
Her signature. Dated six years ago. Witnessed. Notarized.
She remembered signing it. Or rather, she remembered sitting in Tio Samuel’s office, jet-lagged from a research conference in Tokyo, listening to him explain something about “updated terms” and “standard provisions” while her mind was still half-occupied with calibration formulas she’d been working on during the flight.
She’d trusted him. Trusted that whatever needed signing was routine, administrative, nothing that required her full attention.
She’d signed without reading.
Because she trusted.
Was this some kind of conspiracy? Had they planned it together, the three of them? Leonidas, Tio Samuel, and the faceless woman in Milan whose existence had been carefully hidden from her for six years?
No.
That didn’t make sense either.
But nothing made sense anymore.
She just felt so hurt. So empty. So shamefully, stupidly naive.
The blouse slipped from her trembling fingers. She pressed her palms flat against the suitcase, trying to ground herself, trying to breathe through the tightness in her chest.
A knock sounded at the door.
Room service. Finally. She’d ordered coffee hours ago, before Shayla’s office, before the world had tilted sideways and refused to right itself.
Lexy crossed to the door, wiping at her eyes even though she hadn’t realized she was crying. Her reflection in the entry mirror showed a stranger. Smudged makeup. Hair escaping its careful arrangement. The four-inch heels she’d insisted on wearing now felt like instruments of torture.
She opened the door.
And froze.
Leonidas stood in the hallway, golden hair slightly disheveled from travel, tawny eyes searching her face with an intensity that made her want to step back. He was still wearing his suit from Monaco, though the jacket was gone and his shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows.
In his hands, he held a bouquet of roses.