Chapter 2
[Cordelia]
I regain my footing quickly and remove my hands from his well–formed chest. He has always been a handsome man with his classic Hollywood cheekbones, prominent chin, and gorgeous smile. My attraction to him has never been a problem between us.
“Cordelia,” His brow scrunches in confusion. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be at brunch with your parents?”
I open my mouth to say something, but I’m not sure where to start. How do you accuse the person you love, the person who is supposed to love you back, of cheating? It would be easier if he were a mess, but he is as impeccably dressed as always, his three–piece suit still looking fresh and pressed even at midday.
“Cordelia,” his confusion has been replaced with anger when I remain non–responsive. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Why are you here?”
“You know why I’m here,” I try to stay strong but my body betrays me. I hate crying in front of him. It shows him that I am weak.
“Where did you put her?” I push on his chest, moving him out of the doorway. “I know that homewrecker is around here somewhere!”
Under the dim light, everything is still in–pristine hotel condition. The bed is completely undisturbed. There are papers all over the coffee table, along with a cup of coffee and some cigarette butts in the ashtray. There is no sign of whoever was with him just a moment ago, and if I didn’t have photos to prove she was here, I’d believe I was imagining things.
There must be something here. As I turn to head in the balcony’s direction, I see a bottle of white wine chilling in a bucket with a charcuterie board on the table.
“Just working? Is that right?” I grab the bottle of wine and shake it at him, holding it like a club. “You are such a liar!”
Behind me, the door to the bathroom opens with a small crick. Snapping around, I see a timid blond woman crouched behind my husband, peeking around his arms, afraid of the crazy redhead brandishing a
bottle.
“Why are you acting so stupid?!” My husband screams at me. I wince, shrinking back.
my tongue.
I want to tell him about the photos, about how I’ve seen them in the cafe, but the words die on my tor He’ll just twist my words against me like he always does.
“Didn’t you
think about how you would be disturbing my work with your melodramatics?” he continues to scold me and I feel all my bravery shrivel as my shoulders begin to sag. “Of course not! You were just thinking about yourself, as always.”
“It’s not like that,” I huff. “Why are you in a HOTEL room with HER?” I cry, pointing at the pretty blonde still trying to hide behind him. I sound a bit hysterical even to myself at this point.
“This is a BUSINESS suite. It’s a comfortable place for us to relax while working on a stressful day,” he criticizes. “And Sydney is my secretary, which you would know if you spent more time in the office managing our business affairs. She was kind enough to meet me on her day off to help me get ready.” 1
Chapter 2
+25 BONUS
I slowly lower the bottle.
He’s right. I am an idiot and a fool.
*Just leave,” he growls, pointing at the door, “get the hell out of my room. If you ever pull a stunt like this. again, I’ll have security drag you out.”
“But I’m your wife!” I gasp in outrage. I know he hates me, but would he use brute force to have me removed from his presence?
“Then act like it for once and have some fucking dignity,” His face is red as he looks down his nose at me. I can feel myself shrink even more, becoming smaller and smaller under his harsh, judgemental gaze. Gods you look terrible. What on earth are you wearing? You’d think we couldn’t afford to buy you decent clothing,” he laughs.
With a curl of his lips, he turns away from me and gives all of his attention to the girl hiding behind him.
“Sydney, are you okay?” he asks in a kind, warm voice.
I can barely hear her reply, her voice is so soft, feminine, and timid. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Steele. Don’t worry
about me.”
“I’ve told you before you can call me Atlas,” he places a gentle hand on her shoulder. I watch in shock as he pulls her into a loose hug. As she wraps her arms around my husband, her face turns in my direction and I get a good look at her for the first–time.
The wine bottle almost slips from my hands at the sight of her.
It is like staring at a ghost.
She has the same blonde hair, rosebud lips, and hazel eyes of a face I know almost better than my own because it haunts me every night as I go to sleep.
She looks like the woman my husband was supposed to marry. The woman he is still in love with, even
today.
My husband’s new secretary looks exactly like my missing sister.
With the wine bottle in one hand, and the other hand covering my face, I run from the room, leaving behind my last shred of self–respect.
“All I wanted was for him to love me,” I cry to myself, as I walk alone along the streets of Los Angeles. As my feet move forward, my body numb from feeling too much, I can’t help but think of the first time I met Atlas Steele.
+25 BONUS
His returning smile was hesitant, uncertain, and small. “Atlas Steele.”
He was beautiful with his golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. I could tell he was a little too old for me, in his late twenties, or maybe in his early thirties, but I have always been attracted to older boys. His age didn’t discourage me, if anything I think it made him even more dashing.
And a few months after that, after an unexpected disaster, I would replace her in the wedding to solidify the merger between our two families.
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