Her Secret Revenge

by Cole Baxter

Genres: Women's Fiction; Domestic Thrillers; Psychological Thrillers

Synopsis

My hands shake as I watch him cup her pretty face in his hands. He tells her he’ll love her forever, the way he once promised me. And that’s when I swear to get my revenge…

Looking out at our beautiful estate, the home I thought we’d raise our future children in, I watch helplessly as my husband Paul takes his mistress’s arm and leads her inside. My heart twists as they laugh together, without a care in the world. If he and Marianne think they can start over without me, they’re gravely mistaken.

I worked myself to the bone for him, keeping our home pristine, supporting his art, using funds from my business to keep us afloat. Tears fill my eyes as I remember all the lonely nights I spent waiting for him to come home.

My phone lights up with a message from Marianne’s husband. When I told him what she’d done, I never imagined he’d reveal secrets far worse than my husband’s. Or that he’d have a plan to get even. A little scare to fix both of our marriages, and Paul would never find out I was involved…

But when our carefully laid plan takes a deadly turn, I wonder just how much I can trust my accomplice. And what I’ll be forced to do to get back what’s mine…

An absolutely gripping psychological thriller packed with jaw-dropping twists! For fans of The Doctor’s Wife, Behind Closed Doors and The Housemaid.

What readers are saying about Her Secret Revenge:

“I was hooked from the moment I opened it. I loved the characters the author created… I had a really good time devouring this book. The countdown can start again.” B for Book Review, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“I was gripped from start to finish and can’t wait to recommend this everyone.” NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Unputdownable… Don't start this book at night unless you are prepared to stay awake all night.” Books 4 Less, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“So many twists and turns, I didn't know which way was up!… kept me guessing… amazing.” Goodreads reviewer

“Such a great book, I love an authentic twist… this book definitely has those in droves… Cole Baxter’s best so far.” Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“I couldn't tear myself away… it doesn't let you go and keeps you on your toes.” Goodreads reviewer

“I really enjoyed this book!... sit back, read and enjoy the ride!… I read it in a day!” Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

“Even more remarkable than his others… stunning twists and turns … I highly recommend this book.” Goodreads reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

 

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Release date: July 23, 2024

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 351

Sample

Prologue

 

I watch the couple in the huge estate house. The person I have my eye on is drinking again, they do that a lot. The room’s décor of fancy-looking furniture — pricey — is noticeable in the lit-up room.

I glance up to one of the upstairs windows and see a woman. She’s on the phone, wearing a  nice dress. The curtains on the window are thick, but open, making it easy for me to see in. The place is like a monument to wealth. I can see all kinds of antiques and paintings through the various windows.

A moment later an older person appears in a downstairs window. I wonder if they are a housekeeper or a relative? It doesn’t matter. I continue to set up my trail cameras around the grounds. As I get closer to the house, I notice my target looks frail and puny. I could crush them in moments. They are like a bug, an annoyance. But I plan to bide my time.

My eyes are drawn to the upstairs window again. The woman is beautiful, but I can see she’s all business. She’s so pent up and wound tight that she reminds me of a bomb, ready to pop at any moment. I’d hate to be here when that happened…

She isn’t the one I am here for though. It’s the wimpy-looking drinker I’m after.

The person who has taken everything from me.

The one who is going to pay for what they’ve done to me.

With their life.

 

 

 

 CHAPTER ONE – Anna

 

I gritted my teeth. At times it was hard looking at him, let alone anything else.

“You said you were done with it,” I said, trying to rein in on my temper and failing.

“What? Having fun?” Paul countered.

That snarkiness, that devil-may-care attitude as though he didn’t do anything wrong, only infuriated me further.

“You promised you wouldn’t do shit like this anymore,” I insisted.

I was sick and tired of having this same argument over and over with him. Is it a sign of madness that I do it anyway?

All the same, Paul always did shit like this. He acted impulsively, without any regard to others, as long as it was ‘fun’ for him, and damn the consequences, damn if he hurt me in the process.

This was precisely why I wanted to leave him in the first place, yet he was always there with another excuse or sad look, convincing me to give him another chance.

Why did I bother?

“Anna, why are you acting like this?” he countered. “It’s my money too.”

He must have really wanted to piss me off.

“You cannot spend mutual money, thousands of dollars on a weekend trip to Vegas,” I stressed.

He just packed up and left, muttering something about going away for work, and I bought it. That was how big of an idiot I was.

“More to the point,” I continued, “you lied to me about where you were going in the first place.”

I only just found out the truth, and it certainly hurt me. And that was on me, that I still allowed this man to hurt me. After all these years, I really should have known better.

“It makes me wonder what else you lied about.”

Part of me was glad I was now going through this. It was obvious that I needed to be taught a lesson. That I should have trusted my instincts months ago and kicked him out of the house for good.

It was pure luck that I found a bank statement because, in the past, Paul had the tendency to hide those and delete them from the joint email so I wouldn’t see how much money he spent on things, how much of the mutual money he spent on himself. Never on me.

I allowed him to seduce me today, although I was tired from work. It has been a while, so I relented. About halfway through, I realized I definitely wasn’t into it anymore, no matter how much I tried. Part of the problem was that Paul didn’t try at all. It was all about the quick release for him, and that was that. If I wanted an orgasm, I had to take care of it myself.

So, while he blissfully snored beside me, I grabbed my phone and started scrolling on social media, and then a notification from the bank popped up and I decided to check it out.

And there it was, right on my digital banking page, an outgoing payment for thousands of dollars I knew nothing about. It was a debt I knew I hadn’t made. It was easy to put two and two together after seeing that.

Son of a bitch. Although that was not technically true, his mother was lovely. But the notion remained the same. He tricked me. He lied to me, again. I couldn’t believe he did something like that to me after he promised. After he swore on his mother he would change, and be better.

Then again, he promised a lot of things to me, and broke every single one of those promises, shattering my heart in the process.

At least he is consistent, I thought. Yet I couldn’t really find comfort in that.

“What else have you lied to me about?” I repeated since he remained silent.

“Nothing,” he insisted. “I didn’t lie to you about anything.”

“Paul,” I warned.

“I only lied about this because I knew you would react like this,” he said defensively.

“Like what?” I snapped in return.

“Like I did something horrible. Like I committed a crime or something.”

I couldn’t believe it. That is his defense? “So now it’s my fault? I am to blame for you lying? I asked incredulously.

“I had no choice.”

“How about not going to Vegas, not spending our money on it, and not lying about it,” I said, feeling ridiculous I had to state the obvious.

And who were you there with? The question was on the tip of my tongue. Was it the usual guilty party, his best friend Dean, or was there someone else?

“You are acting ridiculous.”

“And how should I react to all this?” I questioned. “Pretend it didn’t happen? Let it slide?”

“How about showing some understanding? I begged you to go on vacation with me. You blew me off, like you always do. You’re always busy with that damn bakery. I had to go and blow off some steam. You know I am under a lot of pressure, constantly stressing about everything,” he tried to defend.

I gritted my teeth because he was trying to sell me a lot of bullcrap and nothing else. “We are all under a lot of stress, Paul. It’s called being an adult. You should really try it sometimes. And that damn bakery, as you put it, is what keeps us afloat.”

He shook his head. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

And now I should feel sorry for him? Not a chance. “You are absolutely right. I don’t understand. Then again, I don’t have to.”

“What do you mean?”

It means I am done with you. “Well, considering this is your mess, I expect you to fix it.”

“What mess? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

I gave him a look. “You took the money from a mutual account without consulting me. You know we were saving that to put into the bakery, you promised me.” He practically stole it as far as I was concerned. Stole it and spent it on gambling, strippers, and God knew what else. “I need you to put it back. That money was only supposed to be touched for emergencies until we figured out what we were doing about remodeling the bakery. You’ve got to put it back.”

Paul made a face as though aghast by what I just said. “Why would I put the money back?” he challenged. “That’s my money too.”

“It’s our money,” I repeated as though speaking to a child while feeling like we were running in circles without any true understanding. “It’s our money that you spent on personal pleasure. You took our savings and spent it on a trip to Vegas. You promised me we’d save that money to expand and remodel the bakery as an investment in our future.”

He shrugged. “I already explained why I did that.”

No, he hadn’t. However, I was done arguing about that.

“I really don’t care,” I interrupted him before he could start lying again because I knew he would. “I just want the money back. At least my part of it,” I offered, feeling like that was more than fair on my part. “If you don’t have it, you could borrow it from your mom and pay her back.”

Unfortunately, I was the only one thinking that my solution was fair.

Paul crossed his arms over his chest. “No. I am not paying anything, and I’m not asking to borrow from my mom,” he said as he dug in his heels.

Looking at him like that, he resembled a petulant child. Although he knew he made a huge mistake, he would rather die than admit it.

“Just, no?”

“Yes. I have no intention of returning the money because it was mine.”

His money. Not our money. Only his.

I shook my head. “This was such a mistake.” I knew that now. I wished I'd known it sooner. It would have spared me a lot of grief.

“What was the mistake?” he asked, clearly not being able to track my train of thought.

“Staying with you,” I clarified. “You are the same selfish bastard you always were.” All the promises made had no merit. Paul only cared about himself and nobody else. And I was the idiot for thinking otherwise. My grandmother was right. I was making all the same mistakes my mother had. At least I didn’t have a child I was pawning off on her like mine had. I pursed my lips and shoved the thought away.

“And you are a cold-hearted bitch,” he snapped in return.

That used to bother me. When people, but mostly Paul, called me cold-hearted. And perhaps to some, I appeared that way. But I had to be. Somebody had to act like an adult around here because if I didn’t, if I allowed Paul to do whatever he wanted, we would end up homeless pretty quickly.

So, I wasn’t going to apologize for doing what needed to be done. That was how I had earned everything that I had. That was how I managed to open my business and keep it, all these years no matter all the struggles, all the problems. And yet, in his eyes, that was something bad. In his eyes, I was constantly the bad guy.

“Thank you,” I countered, and really meant it. “Thank you for reminding me why I wanted to leave you in the first place.”

He scoffed. “Here we go again. Every time you don’t have it your way, you threaten me with a divorce.”

“I’m not threatening, I’m merely stating the facts,” I insisted.

I wasn’t going to make the same mistakes all over again. A couple of months ago, I’d really had enough of his overspending, laziness, and selfishness, and decided to kick him out. Naturally, he returned with his tail tucked between his legs a couple of days after, begging me to reconsider, and pleading with me to give him another chance. And since I was a world-class idiot, I agreed to put the divorce on hold and see if there was a chance our marriage could be saved.

I’d made a huge mistake letting him return to the house, instead of going through with the divorce, I knew that now. Now I understood perfectly why he wanted to return, and it wasn’t because of his huge love for me, but love for himself.

He clearly didn’t like staying with his mom. Because then he couldn’t sleep around, I thought bitterly. And this way he could spend the money from the mutual account as though it was his own.

“I cannot speak to you when you get like this,” he said theatrically, before throwing his clothes on and storming out of the house.

That was so typical of him when he knew he was losing an argument. And the only reason he was losing was because even he was aware he’d royally fucked up. Unfortunately, the knowledge he might be doing something wrong never stopped him from doing exactly what he wanted anyway.

So, he had to run away from me. He always did this when I gave the slightest bit of criticism; he couldn’t stand when others pointed out his mistakes, so he would run away. Like the coward he was. Like the child he was. I let him. I was done fighting.

It wasn’t my fault he was lacking the part of the brain that should control his impulses. And I was done trying to be that part for him because it brought me nothing but pain and sorrow.

After twelve years spent with him, I realized I had nothing to show for it. All the fond memories, all the fun times we’d had, were so sparse and happened such a long time ago that I felt like it happened to someone else, with somebody else, because most days I couldn’t even remember the person I married.

Then again, perhaps that person never existed. Perhaps it was merely a construct of my mind while I was deeply in love with him.

He constantly rubbed my nose in the fact I had changed a great deal since we got married. And that was probably true. The problem was he didn’t change with me. He remained exactly the same, and perhaps that was great when we were young, but these days, not so much.

That was precisely why it was important for me to move on and stop allowing Paul to drag me into his shit.

I was tired of living this life with him when I knew I deserved better. When I knew I deserved a man who would be a true partner to me, someone I could always rely on, and not waste my time on this man-child I was stuck with.

I was exhausted from constantly having to be the bad guy because I wouldn’t allow him to have any “fun,” as though I liked constantly making sacrifices. However, “fun” didn’t pay our mortgage; it didn’t keep the roof over our heads, and “fun” didn’t put food in our fridge. And it was sad he couldn’t see that. That he couldn’t understand.

I was done having to be the adult in this relationship while he did all that he pleased. From now on I was going to put myself first. I was going to take a page out of his playbook and care only about my needs from this point forward as he did.

And now, after twelve years, I had come to realize that my marriage was over, no matter how scary that might seem.

I had to put that part of my life behind me and carry on all by myself because when all was said and done, one thing remained uncovered as the ultimate truth – I fucking deserve better…

 

CHAPTER TWO – Paul

 

“Thanks for letting me crash here tonight. Anna is in one of her moods, and I just had to get away, you know?”

Dean, my best friend, nodded at that as he handed me a can of cold beer. He always knew exactly what I needed. In other circumstances, as in, if he grew tits and a vagina, he would be a perfect wife.

“Thanks,” I said, opening the beer and taking a satisfactory drink from it. I sighed in contentment. That felt good, especially after the day I’d had.

“Of course, bro, my couch is your couch,” he said, crashing on the recliner, opening his can of beer, and drinking from it.

That was life as far as I was concerned. He was so lucky he didn’t have an old ball and chain dragging him down. I should have never married, came a thought. It ruins relationships.

Anna used to be super fun, loving, and full of understanding, but marriage changed her. She became distant and cold, and grumpy all the time. And no matter what I did, she always found fault.

“You want to talk about it?” Dean asked after a short pause.

I shook my head. “I most definitely do not want to talk about it, because it’s the usual bullshit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“You, my friend, are on the right path. Being single is the way to go. That is the best. You have no wife who wants to control you. You have no girlfriend pressuring you into marrying her. You’re free to do whatever you want, whenever you want,” I ranted.

“Yeah,” Dean said, making a face, although I didn’t understand why.

I truly meant what I said. I was a fool, a fool in love when I asked Anna to marry me. That was a mistake.

Although I had to admit not all was bad, sex was still great after all. But I am an artist, a free spirit. So, all that settling down, starting a family was not for me.

Once upon a time, I believed Anna was just like me, that we were kindred spirits, that we could be free together. We’d met in college, where I’d been doing what I loved, painting, and she’d been taking business courses with a dream of owning a bakery. She’d achieved her dream, and I’d been nothing but supportive, but I was still working on mine. While I’d continued to be a free spirit, she’d become a cold and calculating businesswoman. I’d been so sadly mistaken. She was just like the rest of them. Always asking for more, always demanding perfection.

I also hated when she threatened me with divorce. I knew she would never actually go through with it. For all of her nitpicking, she wasn’t a quitter, but it still irked me she would say something like that. Especially since she knew how much I detested ultimatums. And this was just that. If I didn’t behave, she would kick me out.

Well, I wasn’t leaving. That was my house as much as it was hers, so if she had a problem, she was the one who needed to leave. I felt the irony of that, considering I crashed at Dean’s; nonetheless, this was only for the night. I needed to cool off.

“So, she found out about Vegas, huh?” Dean guessed.

“Yeah, she did,” I replied reluctantly.

I still had no idea how she managed that. I thought I was being careful. I threw away all the bank statements that came through the mail before she could see anything.

Still, she found out and decided to blow it all out of proportion.

“What are you going to do?”

“Nothing, let her cool off a bit.” Like always. Besides a few dirty looks, everything would return to normal, tomorrow.

“In other words, you are going to apologize to Anna tomorrow.”

I was looking at the TV, Dean had put some game on, and I nodded. “I probably should,” I admitted.

And that was it. End of our bro talk.

We drank a couple of beers in the next few hours, watched the game, and then Dean went to his room so we could both get some sleep. We were working in the morning.

The morning came too quickly, and it was hard for me to get up. And not because I had to sleep on an uncomfortable couch. This wasn’t the first time I’d fallen asleep at Dean’s hiding from Anna or while we drank and played video games. It was because I definitely had one too many, and now my head was killing me.

It was certainly not the same as when I’d been out drinking in my early twenties. Not that it would stop me, I joked.

After I showered with cold water, hoping it would help with the hangover, Dean lent me some clothes so I wouldn’t go to work in the same clothes I was in yesterday. We had a new manager, and she was a real pain in the ass about that kind of stuff.

Although I worked in front of the computer all day and had no interactions with clients, she still expected us to look our best. It was pure idiocy if they asked me. Sadly, they didn’t.

“Want to carpool?” Dean asked while we were on our way out. We worked for the same firm. That was how we became friends in the first place.

“Naw,” I replied instantly. “I’ll need my car after work.”

“Oh yeah, to go home and kiss ass,” he jibed as he started to make kissing noises.

I rolled my eyes at him.

He was always extra annoying in the morning. Dean was undeniably a morning person. He was at full capacity, ready to give one hundred percent, from the moment he opened his eyes.

On the other hand, I was not. I would much prefer to sleep late and go to work around ten; sadly, I was never given that choice although I asked multiple times.

The work was dull and numbing as always. I hated working for these corporate jackasses who couldn’t recognize true talent, true art, even if it hit them in the face. They only cared about the bottom line, about profit, which, for a marketing firm, wasn’t that hard to imagine. And they had me working on art for a line of baby products, so it was even more annoying. Every time I saw that chubby baby, I was reminded of Anna’s nagging that we should start a family.

I would like nothing more than to quit. Have my own unique Jerry Maguire moment, but I couldn’t. This job was what paid the bills after all, although I felt like I was extremely underpaid. And this was what sustained my true passion – painting.

I had always wanted to be a famous painter and live in Paris, but my bad luck prevented me from fulfilling that dream. I’d had horrible art teachers back in college. I’d not been able to go where I’d wanted because money had been tight after Dad died, and I’d had to settle for attending the state college, which apparently only hired hacks. You know the old saying those who can’t do, teach? Well, all of my so-called teachers had been those who couldn’t, and most of the time they couldn’t even be bothered to give feedback. Still, I persevered, despite them. My art was my life. Of course, that didn’t pay the bills, and while I was struggling along just fine, Anna had insisted that I get a job to help out.

All the same, I wasn’t giving up. One of these days I would finally have my own show, here in New York, and people would recognize my talent. If I had that kind of support, I would build a following, become a hit, maybe even become famous, and sell my landscapes for a ton of money. That would allow me to leave this stupid job. And finally, start living my life to the fullest and not continue wasting away, spending my best years for nothing.

At precisely five o’clock, I turned my computer off, although I still hadn’t finished my projects, and left. They didn’t deserve me working overtime, because I had someplace to be, and that was far more important to me than some arbitrary deadlines.

I decided I wouldn’t go home just yet. Anna would only give me the silent treatment, send daggers my way as though I did something bad, and I really didn’t need that today. So, I decided to give her some space, as I had somewhere else to be.

The nice little tattoo parlor was empty as I walked inside with the bag of groceries, and I took it as a great sign. Marianne, the beautiful tattoo artist, smiled as she saw me.

I smiled in return. “Have some time for me?” I asked as I set the bag down. She’d said her last grocery delivery had been messed with, so I tried to bring her things when I came to see her.

Without a word, Marianne jumped into my arms and kissed me passionately. Her soft lips met mine, and all my frustrations just melted away. It was the kind of kiss people write songs and novels about.

My whole body responded immediately. I wanted Marianne like crazy. Always had, no matter how many times we ended up in bed. It was that kind of intense attraction, all-consuming, crazy, that could not be denied.

Ever since I met her, about six months ago, I felt this insane pull toward her, an attraction I could not ignore. And blissfully, it was completely mutual because as much as I wanted her like a man wanted water in the desert, she wanted me back with equal force. I’d tried for that with Anna, but all I got in return was criticism, and nagging. It was so nice to be around someone who actually wanted to be with me.

We kissed for a while like that, in the middle of her shop, before I decided we needed to continue this someplace a little bit more private. I needed her naked, and now.

Luckily, her small apartment was right above her shop, so one quick trip later, we were rolling into bed. It turned me on to no end that I could do that, carry her around, since she was on the petite side. It made me feel strong.

We were pretty loud as we surrendered to our passion, and I loved every second of it.

I patted her flat stomach, in post-coital bliss. I didn’t want to move from that spot, ever. I couldn’t be moved even if I wanted to.

I truly needed that. And Marianne looked like she needed it too.

“I really like this one, is it new?” I asked as I traced a specific tattoo with my index finger.

She had a lot of tattoos covering her body, but most impressive were the full, colorful sleeves of butterflies that she drew herself.

Yet the one I was speaking about was a small thing around her navel. It looked like an intricate web of thorns and leaves. It was interesting, beautiful, and despite the thorns looked light and delicate.

“New-ish, but it’s not done yet. I am trying something new,” she explained.

I admired that about her. The ability to just do something, no matter what it was, no matter if she would regret it later on. I wished I could be more like that, more like her. I knew I would be much happier that way.

I continued to explore her body to see if there was something else new that I hadn’t seen before. And unfortunately, there was. It was not a tattoo, but a bruise. I instantly knew what that meant. She saw him again.

“Is that from me?” I asked all the same, knowing that sometimes during sex I didn’t know what I was doing, or if I was holding onto her too tightly. We sometimes liked things a little rough, but this looked more serious.

Marianne shook her head, looking away.

As I suspected. That bastard of a husband of hers, Cameron.

She was in the process of leaving him, yet as it turned out, that was a pretty long process. Although I really could not understand why. He was a true piece of work, and she would be better off without him.

“You need to get away from him,” I said like I had many times in the past.

He was constantly gaslighting her, verbally and physically abusing her, trying to control her, not to mention she suspected he had cheated on her, even though he professed her to be his one true love. The guy was a user and had no morals, which was precisely why she managed to say, “fuck you” and get out of that relationship, which I approved.

Unfortunately, Cameron didn’t like that and was constantly trying to intimidate her into returning to him. And I really wished she wouldn’t because she deserved someone who would take better care of her, and respect her.

To be perfectly honest, I could not fathom why anyone would cheat on such an amazing woman. She was perfect in every way: beautiful, funny, smart, talented, not to mention amazing in bed.

“I am trying,” she replied, making a face, going on the defensive as though I was attacking her, which was not what I was doing, at all. I was concerned.

“You know I am here for you,” I said, stroking the contours of her face.

“I know, and I have to admit that having all this revenge fucking with you really helps me detox from him,” and she kissed me again, deeply.

Can I squeeze another go before leaving? I wondered, doing some calculations in my head, which was hard while having her tongue in my mouth. That was not the only thing that was hard as it turned out.

I definitely can, I decided.

“You know, we can find a place for us to live together once we are both free, after you divorce Cameron and I divorce Anna,” I offered, pulling my shirt over my head.

That way we could have all the sex we wanted without stopping to go home.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, molding herself against my body. She was only in her lacy underwear, and it drove me crazy.

“You know I love spending time with you, but I want to have my own place from now on. I can’t repeat all the same mistakes, going from one guy to the next.”

“Ouch.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I understand.” But I was sure she would feel differently once the dust settled.

“Have you spoken with Audrina?” she asked, changing the subject.

Audrina was the owner of one of the hottest galleries in New York; artists would kill to have a showcase there.

I sighed. “Her gallery doesn’t want my landscapes.”

“Maybe you can work on something else then,” Marianne offered, and I made a face. She didn’t understand it wasn’t just that simple.

“I refuse to become a sellout. Landscapes are my thing, and I am sure my time will come, with or without Audrina,” I replied firmly.

She kissed me softly on the lips. “I believe you.”

And at times like this, that was the best thing my girlfriend could say to me. Even if my life outside of her arms was a disaster, at least here, it was perfect, and I could have everything I could ever want.

 

CHAPTER THREE – Paul

 

Driving home after my afternoon rendezvous with Marianne, I couldn’t help but think about my life. More accurately put, I couldn’t help wondering what the hell was wrong with the women in my life.

Does she even love me anymore?

Even though I knew she’d change her mind, Marianne had created this barrier between us today. Finding out she didn’t want to commit to me once we were both single had left me with a hollow feeling in my chest. I was completely committed to her. She was the only woman in my life who mattered, but apparently, that was not enough.

I couldn’t believe she shot down the idea of us living together so quickly. She already decided I was going to be her next mistake, and that was not fair, especially considering I haven’t done anything wrong.

I couldn’t understand her. What kind of a woman didn’t want to live with her boyfriend? Wasn’t that a clear sign that our relationship was true, and evolving? I thought women loved shit like that.

Does she have someone else? came a sudden thought that I discarded immediately. I knew I was the only man she was seeing. Besides, between Cameron constantly pestering her, our secret meetings, and her job, there really wasn’t much time left for anyone else in her life. That was comforting. Yet the question still remained the same: what was the problem? Why didn’t she want to commit to me? Doesn’t she love me?

I knew she liked me, I corrected, so what was her deal? I thought in frustration. Between her aloofness and Anna’s hissy fits, I simply could not understand women at all. I was giving my all, and yet that was clearly not enough.

Maybe she doesn’t believe I am serious about divorcing Anna, I realized. Of course I was. It was just that the timing needed to be perfect. Besides, divorce laws could be pretty tricky. I didn’t want to end up paying her alimony, or whatnot, for the rest of my life. Thank God we at least didn’t have children. She would certainly end up with our house if that was the case. That was why I had to wait a little bit longer, so I could find the perfect lawyer to deal with it all. The problem was lawyers cost money, and I didn’t have much. Apparently, Marianne couldn’t understand that.

To make matters worse, the list of infuriating women in my life didn’t stop there. There was another, Audrina, and she was a major pain in my ass. She was the only woman in my life who really didn’t like me. And I couldn’t understand why that was the case. I had always tried to show her I had nothing but respect and admiration for her. She had made it after all. She was super successful and made tons of money. She knew all the best artists in the business, and I could learn so much from her if she’d only give me a chance.

She’d seemed nice enough when we first met, but now she turned pretty cold whenever I was around. I’m not sure what I did to ever offend her. Maybe she’s jealous I’m sleeping with Marianne and not with her, I mused.

Audrina had been the one who introduced me to her in the first place. They’d been friends since they were kids. It baffled me at times that those two were actually friends. Audrina was so upper side, and refined, while Marianne was a bohemian who liked to party. Then again, Audrina was good friends with my wife, a baker from Soho as well, so perhaps she had eclectic taste where people were concerned.

I first met Marianne at one of Audrina’s exhibitions. Anna had dragged me to it, as Audrina was her college roommate, but I’m so glad I let her. Between the snooty art patrons and the canapés, there was Marianne, looking like a vision with her soft, auburn hair and worn leather jacket. I went mad for her. It was a miracle I didn’t start kissing her then and there in front of everybody.

And I knew Audrina was aware I was with Marianne. Even though she was friends with Anna as well, she remained discreet, which I appreciated. At the same time, I wished I’d known sooner that she fancied me. I would have greased her wheels, so to speak, ages ago if that was the ticket for me having an exhibition at her gallery.

Would it be awkward if I told her that could still happen? I thought, if Marianne didn’t want to commit to me, maybe I could feign innocence. Unfortunately, I had no answer to that. She was really hard to read, which didn’t happen to me often. Women were usually pretty easy for me to read. I understood what made them tick.

Audrina was the exception.

All the same, no matter her motives, I knew she was the reason I couldn’t have an exhibition in New York. Not just in her gallery, but anywhere else in the city. She’d literally said I’d never find work in the city. She had blacklisted me, which was infuriating.

I had to wonder why she didn’t want me to sell my paintings, why she didn’t want me to present my art. I knew I was good. All my teachers told me so. I was always praised for my impeccable techniques.

I once overheard Audrina say something about how my paintings, although done immaculately, were completely low-effort and low on imagination. I didn’t take offense. I knew she said that because she didn’t like me.

With that remark, she presented herself in a poor light, demonstrating how narrow-minded she truly was. And that she couldn’t recognize a true talent even if it was right under her nose. That much was obvious. Audrina also cared only about the money, the profit she could accumulate from commissions.

And I refused to paint by the latest trends. Because trends came and went, yet real artists remained true to their craft. True painters always had their niche, where they felt most inspired, where they felt most at home. And landscapes were that for me, and I wasn’t about to betray that for anybody. I was going to stick to it no matter what because I knew it would pay off in the end. It had to.

What the fuck am I going to do in the meantime? Because money didn’t grow on trees, and I seriously needed it. I made a face. That was why I had a regular job: because I needed money. A job that I hated. Staying at that meager job, doing things I hated, was eating at my soul, but what other choice did I have?

When Anna and I first married, the deal was for her to work in her bakery and for me to focus on my art, and create my landscapes. Sadly, that didn’t last long before she was criticizing my work and forcing me into a nine-to-five. She never truly believed in me, but I would show her. I would show everybody, once I became famous.

Unfortunately, that couldn’t happen overnight. It required sacrifices, and change. I was no idiot. I knew there were some things in my life that needed to change; the problem was I didn’t know how to change them.

I couldn’t simply quit my job, because Anna wouldn’t support me. She would kick me out and I had no place to go. Marianne wouldn’t take me, especially at the moment, while she fought with Cameron.

And although I knew my mom supported me no matter what, I was aware she wouldn’t understand either, if I just abandoned everything and focused solely on painting and making it big. She was a bit old-fashioned like that.

All that meant I was stuck in the life I was leading, pressured from all sides. I was boxed in without any means of getting out. Struggling in life was no fun at all.

I parked the car in the garage and braced myself for Anna’s icy stare. As it turned out, she wasn’t home, which surprised me since it was pretty late by then. Where is she? I knew she couldn’t be in her bakery, still.

Is she having an affair? I thought angrily. That would be so rich coming from her, giving me grief when she was also seeing someone else. Then again, perhaps I was rushing to conclusions.

Maybe I shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth, especially if it meant I had a moment of peace all to myself. I opened the fridge and grabbed myself a can of beer, realizing I was actually starving, but there was nothing to eat. And I didn’t feel like making myself a sandwich.

I remembered how, once upon a time, there was always something waiting for me when I got home. Anna used to make all kinds of delicacies for me, not only pastries but real meals. She was a great cook.

Over time, she stopped. She stopped taking care of me. She stopped caring. Things used to be so good between us and that definitely changed with time. And I still didn’t understand why.

After twelve-plus years of marriage, I could honestly say that Anna had changed so much I couldn’t recognize her anymore. And I wasn’t talking about physically, although she definitely didn’t care about herself on the same level as she used to. Like when we were dating, she always did her hair and makeup, and wore sexy clothes for me and heels, now she was usually dressed down to work in her bakery, and she didn’t do her hair and makeup except for rare occasions. But I was speaking about her character, her personality. That changed so much, it was like living with someone else. Someone scary. Someone I didn’t like living with.

The biggest problem was that she didn’t look at me the same way she used to. I didn’t see love and devotion in her eyes anymore. Now, she was angry all the time.

And she definitely stopped supporting my art. She wasn’t even trying to help me out anymore; she wouldn’t even speak with Audrina about my art. She stopped caring about me completely. Not to mention how she constantly complained about everything, blaming me for everything. It wore me down to the point that I’d start doing whatever I wanted – if I was going to be talked down to regardless, I might as well have some fun in my life.

Even if she wasn’t aware of it, I knew that her behavior had nothing to do with me. She became an extremely unhappy person. And her lashing out at everyone around her was a symptom of that. Yet, for the love of God, I didn’t understand why she was so unhappy when she had everything. Most people would give anything to have what she had.

Anna had her own small business; she owned a bakery in Soho. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. She was her own boss, which was a dream; I knew that better than most. She lived in a nice house that we’d inherited from her aunt and was married. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for her.

So now she was once again threatening me with a divorce. Maybe I should beat her to the punch, I mused. God knew I didn’t want to stay married to a person like her, who clearly cared only about herself.

Especially since I had Marianne now. Who doesn’t want to commit to me, I reminded myself with a frown, finishing my beer.

Getting to the living room, I noticed the answering machine was blinking. I really had no idea why we still had that thing. In this day and age, only telemarketers and bank creditors left messages.

And my mother, I grumbled.

I prayed with all my heart it was my mother because I couldn’t deal with any additional stress in my life. I was spread thin as it was. It wasn’t easy getting only bad news all the time.

I pressed the button to listen to it.

“Hello, darlings,” my mother greeted in her usual manner. She was under the false impression that Anna and I were happily married.

“Paul, darling, I am afraid I have some sad news to share with you. Your uncle, James, passed away. And since he had nobody other than us, we need to meet to discuss funeral arrangements. Oh, and his attorney called me. We are expected to attend the reading of the will. I am very saddened that this happened, and so suddenly. Call me when you get this.”

That was the end of the message.

James died. I took a moment to decide how I felt about it.

I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with all those responsibilities. God knew I already had enough on my plate. Then again, it would be nice if my dear old uncle left something for me.

It had been years since I’d seen him, but I remembered he’d lived in a massive house that I’d thought was a palace when I was a kid. Maybe he’d had some leftover cash he left me in his will? Wouldn’t that be nice?

I immediately called Mom back.

Perhaps avoid repetition of dressed/dress?

I think this sentence would make better sense without ‘and’.

Perhaps avoid repetition of ‘true’.