The Divorce Papers
Mary’s POV:
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Vane is in meetings all morning. If you’d like to leave your name and number, I can have someone-i
“Mary,” I said. “My name is Mary.”
She typed something into her computer. Scrolled. Typed again. Her smile never changed.
“I’m not seeing a Mary on his schedule. Are you with a vendor? A client?”
I looked past her, down the hallway lined with glass-walled offices. I could see people moving, talking, working. None of them looked up. None of them noticed me.
None of them knew who I was.
And why would they? Alistair had never told them. He had never mentioned me at company parties, never brought me to holiday events, never once acknowledged that he had a wife and a daughter waiting for him at home.
His friends-the ones he played poker with, the ones he went to bachelor parties with, the ones who had known about Vesper for years-had never heard my name.
My friends, the ones I had convinced to invest in his company, had become his friends over time. I saw them less and less. They called me less and less. And now, when I scrolled through my phone, their names were buried so deep I had to search to find them.
His friends were still not mine.
And they had known. All of them. They had known that Alistair had been pursuing Vesper for years. They had known that he had never gotten over her. They had known that I was a placeholder, a consolation prize, a woman he had married to make someone else jealous.
And they had said nothing.
I pulled out my phone and checked my messages. Nothing from Alistair. No response to the call I had made this morning. No explanation for where he was, or when he would be home, or why his mistress was driving his car and sleeping in my guest room.
The receptionist was still smiling at me, still waiting for me to leave.


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