After My Husband Cheated, I Married His Greatest Rival
The rain assaulted the glass, mirroring the storm inside me. For three years, I, Vivian Sterling, played the perfect wife to Julian Kensington, draining my life. The antique clock ticked, a reminder of time lost.
Then, I found it: a blonde hair on Julian's suit, reeking of Midnight Rose, and a text, ""Candy: You left your cufflinks on my nightstand. I'm already missing you."" My world shattered, revealing his betrayal.
This was just the beginning. I exposed Julian's fraud and his family's violent plots, surviving assassination. But their malice stole my past. Then Alexander Vance, my protector, uncovered a terrifying truth: my birth mother was alive, held captive by a shadowy order. My life was a lie, built to shield me from my dangerous bloodline.
I found strength and love with Alexander, the man who walked into fire for me. Yet, as I prepared to rescue my mother, a new life stirred within me, a secret threatening to complicate the impending war.
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Chapter 3
Three days later, the "apology" came. It wasn't words. It was an invitation.
"Get dressed," Julian said, tossing a garment bag onto the bed. "We're going to the Kensington Charity Gala pre-party."
He didn't say sorry. He just bought her a dress. A black dress. Simple. Boring.
"It's a bit plain," Vivian noted, touching the fabric.
"It's elegant," Julian corrected. "You don't need to draw attention. You know how you get anxious in crowds."
He was rewriting her reality again. Painting her as the fragile, neurotic woman who needed his protection.
Vivian put on the dress. It fit perfectly, of course. He viewed her body as a mannequin for his status.
The venue was a high-end art gallery downtown. Waiters circulated with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The air buzzed with the chatter of the city's elite.
As soon as they entered, Julian dropped her hand.
"I need to say hello to the board members," he said. "Stay here. Try not to knock anything over."
He vanished into the crowd.
Vivian walked to the bar. "Dirty Martini," she ordered. "Extra olives."
She took the cold glass and wandered toward the back of the gallery, seeking a quiet corner. She found a spot behind a large, decorative Japanese screen. It offered a view of the room through the slats but hid her from sight.
She sipped her drink, the vodka burning pleasantly.
Then she heard his voice.
"Oh, come on, Julian. She's totally whipped."
It was one of his friends. Mark.
Julian laughed. "Vivian? Please. She's terrified I'll leave her. Where would she go? Back to that tiny apartment her mother lives in? She needs the Kensington name to breathe."
Vivian's hand froze. The glass was icy against her fingers.
"But the club..." Mark pressed. "I thought I saw someone looking like her car nearby."
"She was home asleep," Julian dismissed. "Women get emotional. I bought her a dress, took her out tonight. She's fine now. She knows who butters her bread."
"Julian is the best husband!" A high, chirpy voice chimed in.
Scarlett.
Vivian peered through the screen. Scarlett was there, clinging to Julian's arm again. She was wearing a white dress that looked suspiciously like a wedding gown cut short.
"You're too good to her," Scarlett cooed. "If I were your wife, I'd never yell at you."
"I know, sweetie," Julian said, patting her hand. "She's just... a placeholder. A trophy my mother picked out. A gold digger who got lucky."
Gold digger.
Something inside Vivian snapped. It wasn't a loud snap. It was the sound of a cable finally giving way under too much tension.
She stepped out from behind the screen. Her knuckles were white around the glass.
She looked at them. The urge to throw the drink in his face was overwhelming. It pulsed in her veins, hot and demanding.
But she saw Mark looking at her. She saw the other guests nearby.
If she made a scene, she was the crazy wife. She was the problem.
Vivian forced her hand to relax. She forced her face into a mask of confusion and hurt.
"Julian?" she whispered, her voice trembling perfectly.
The group went silent. Mark's eyes widened. Scarlett gasped.
Julian turned slowly. When he saw her, his arrogance faltered for a second.
"Vivian," he said, stepping away from Scarlett. "How long have you been standing there?"
"I... I just wanted to ask if you were ready to go," Vivian stammered, taking a step back. She let her heel catch on the carpet. She stumbled, the martini sloshing over the rim and splashing onto her own dress.
"Oh!" she cried out, looking down at the stain.
"God, Vivian," Julian sighed, rolling his eyes. "Can't you go five minutes without making a mess?"
Scarlett giggled, hiding her smile behind her hand.
"I'm sorry," Vivian whispered, tears welling in her eyes. Real tears of frustration, but to them, they looked like weakness. "I'm just... I'm not feeling well. The crowd..."
"Go clean yourself up," Julian snapped. "Or just go wait in the car. You're embarrassing me."
"I'll... I'll go to the car," Vivian said.
She turned and walked away, head bowed. She looked defeated.
As she walked through the gallery, she heard Julian's voice behind her.
"See? Total mess. She'd be lost without me."
Vivian walked out into the cool night air. She signaled the valet.
Once she was inside the car, the tears stopped instantly. Her expression hardened into stone.
She pulled out her phone and opened the voice memo app. She stopped the recording.
"Placeholder," she repeated to the empty car.
She wasn't just leaving him. She was going to skin him alive.