Love Beyond Deception's Veil

My relationship with Otis Moore began after his divorce, yet I constantly felt like the other woman. I loved him for eight years, and we were together for three, but he never mentioned marriage, nor did he want to hold my hand in public. Until that day, when I saw him laughing brightly at the amusement park with his ex-wife and their child.

"Otis, when are you going to break it off with her?"

He frowned, irritation flickering in his voice. "Just focus on taking care of the kid, and don’t worry about anything else."

Later, at what was supposed to be our renewal of vows ceremony, Otis never showed up. Instead, he spent the day sitting in silence in our shared apartment. Little did he know, by the time he returned, the plane I was on had already taken off. The man who once claimed he couldn't live without me ultimately lost me completely.

---

The moment I entered the office, Zuri Sanchez, the vice president, called me into her office. She tossed a stack of papers onto the desk in front of me with a disdainful look. "Congratulations, you've been promoted to team leader."

Zuri had climbed to the position of vice president, but she still enjoyed competing with the staff, especially me. Whenever I bought something, no matter how small, and my colleagues complimented it, she’d show up with the same item the next day, feigning concern. "You’re not earning much; stop spending frivolously. I’m just advising you for your own sake."

I always brushed her off with a smile. If it weren’t for her constant undermining over the years, I might have taken her position by now. Taking the papers, I nodded at her with a smile. "Thank you."

I was full of joy, thinking about the raise and how I could rent a bigger apartment so Otis could live more comfortably. Just as I was about to leave, she called me back. Holding her phone, her voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh my, doing well in your career but losing in love seems to fit you perfectly."

She shoved the phone in my face. On the screen, in the corner of a luxury store, were three figures. They looked remarkably like Otis, his ex-wife, and their son. She tutted, "I think you’ve misplaced your feelings. Your boyfriend buys luxury items for his ex-wife and son, and look at you, everything you’re wearing probably doesn’t add up to more than a thousand dollars, does it?"

I couldn’t maintain my smile any longer, but I still argued, "It just looks like them. It’s not him. You’re mistaken."

She chuckled. "You should understand your standing. He might have declared bankruptcy, but before that, he was a big deal in New York. Even ‘bankrupt,’ he's better off than most. Your role is just for fun; don’t take it seriously, or you’ll end up hurt."

I was at a loss for words. She was right. Eight years ago, when he came to me as our company’s biggest client, I fell for him instantly. He was unlike other wealthy men, always gentle and kind to me, helping me a lot after we got to know each other, which made me fall deeper. I knew he was aware of my affection, but I always kept a proper distance because he was a married man, and someone like me didn’t match his status.

Then, three years ago, he got divorced, and one day he showed up at my door, drunk. He held me tightly and said, "My family's bankrupt. Do you still want to be with me?"

At that moment, I was thrilled, feeling like I finally had the right to be with him, even vowing to earn money to support him. I never expected that three years of happiness could be completely shattered by a single photograph. My fingers hovered over the screen for a long time, but I couldn’t muster the courage to voice my doubts. I was terrified that all this was just a dream.

When I got home that night, the aroma of dinner greeted me. Otis smiled, placing the last dish on the table and pulling me into a warm embrace. "Sweetheart, I don’t know why, but I missed you so much today."

Absentmindedly, I teased, "Must be your nesting season again."

Before bed, I casually asked, "A colleague mentioned seeing you at the luxury department store today." He held me tighter, then kissed my forehead.

"Yeah, Miller is starting middle school, and Cecelia thought we should get him a pen as a gift. Don’t worry, I only paid half. There’s enough money left for our expenses this month."

Though his explanation was smooth, my heart began to tighten again. I remembered checking Cecelia's social media earlier that afternoon; the photo clearly showed a limited-edition handbag and a pen, captioned: "A gift from my husband for me and our son."