After My Husband Defended His Mistress Over Me

I grabbed my phone off the kitchen counter without looking. The screen was dark. I dropped it into my purse and zipped the side pocket shut.

"Elliott, sweetheart, we need to leave in ten minutes," Genevieve called from the hallway. Her voice was warm and unhurried, the way it always was. She never rushed. She just moved through the world like she had all the time in it.

I glanced around the bedroom one more time. Suitcase by the door. Passport in my carry-on. Coat draped over the chair. Everything was ready. Cain was still in the shower. I could hear the water running behind the closed bathroom door.

I walked over and knocked lightly. "Babe, I'm heading out. Your parents are waiting."

The water shut off. A moment later, the door opened. Cain stood there with a towel around his waist, hair dripping, that easy smile on his face. The one that always made me feel like I was the only person in the room.

"I'm so sorry," he said, reaching out to touch my cheek. "This conference call came up last minute. I can't get out of it."

I felt a small tug of disappointment but pushed it down. "It's okay. You'll meet us at JFK, right?"

"Of course." He leaned in and kissed me. His lips were warm. "I'll be there before you even miss me."

I smiled. "I already miss you."

He laughed and kissed me again, longer this time. When he pulled back, his hand lingered on my waist. "Go. Don't keep my parents waiting. You know how my dad gets about being on time."

I nodded and grabbed my coat. As I walked out, I looked back once. Cain was already reaching for his phone, his face lit by the screen. I told myself it was work. It was always work.

Genevieve was waiting by the front door of our building, elegant in a soft gray cashmere sweater and linen pants. No logos. No jewelry except the plain titanium watch Silas had given her decades ago. She looked like someone's kind grandmother, not a woman who co-founded an eleven-billion-dollar empire.

"Ready, darling?" she asked, linking her arm through mine.

"Ready," I said.

Silas was already in the car, scrolling through something on his tablet. He looked up when I slid into the seat beside him and smiled. "There's our girl."

I leaned my head on his shoulder for a moment. He smelled like cedar and old books. "Thanks for letting me crash your vacation."

"Crash?" Genevieve laughed from the front seat. "Elliott, you are the vacation. Do you think we want to spend two weeks alone listening to Silas complain about the hotel Wi-Fi?"

Silas grunted but didn't argue. He just patted my hand.

The drive to JFK was easy. Traffic was light. Genevieve talked about the resort, about the snorkeling she wanted to try, about the restaurant she'd read about that served the best grilled fish in the Maldives. I listened and smiled and felt the bubbles of excitement in my chest again. This was my life. This beautiful, simple, perfect life.

We arrived at the international terminal just after ten. The building was bright and loud, filled with travelers dragging suitcases and families huddled around departure boards. Silas led us toward the private aviation check-in counter, walking slowly, one hand resting lightly on Genevieve's back.

I pulled out my phone to check for a message from Cain. The screen lit up. I scrolled through. Nothing. Just some old photos of a beach sunset and a skyline I didn't recognize. I frowned. That was weird. I didn't remember taking those.

Then I realized. This wasn't my phone. The case was the same. The model was the same. But this was Cain's backup. I must have grabbed it by mistake this morning.

I sighed and dropped it back into my purse. It didn't matter. Cain would be here soon.

Genevieve reached over and straightened my collar, her fingers gentle. "You look lovely, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Mom," I said. I'd started calling her that two years ago, and she'd cried the first time. Now it just felt natural.

Silas checked his watch. "Cain's cutting it close."

"He'll be here," I said. I believed it.

We stood near the counter, relaxed and easy. Genevieve was telling a story about the last time they'd tried to take a vacation and Silas had spent the entire first day on conference calls. Silas was shaking his head, smiling despite himself. I was laughing.

Then I heard the footsteps. Fast. Sharp. Angry.

I turned.

A woman was storming across the terminal floor toward us. She was tall, dressed head to toe in designer labels. Sunglasses pushed up into her dark hair. Her face was twisted with rage.

I didn't recognize her.

She didn't slow down.

She raised her hand.

And then she slapped me across the face so hard I stumbled backward into the counter.

The sound cracked through the terminal like a gunshot.

My cheek exploded with heat. My ears rang. I tasted blood on my lip.

"Stay away from my boyfriend, you shameless bitch!" she screamed.

I blinked. My vision blurred. I couldn't breathe.

People were stopping. Turning. Phones were rising.

The woman shoved her phone in my face, scrolling furiously through photo after photo. A man and a woman at a candlelit dinner. The same man and woman on a beach. In matching pajamas. Kissing.

The man was Cain.

I stared at the screen. My brain couldn't process it. That was my husband. That was Cain. But the woman in the photos wasn't me.

"You've been stalking him for months!" she shrieked. "I have proof! Everyone can see what you are!"

The crowd pressed closer. I heard murmurs. Gasps. Someone laughed.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.