My Husband’s Mistress Is Dead

by Saundra

Genres: Women's Fiction; Thrillers

Synopsis

In this riveting domestic thriller for readers of Jeneva Rose, Kimberly McCreight, Kimberly Belle, and Shanora Williams, one woman’s seemingly perfect marriage is shattered by a shocking revelation. Now, how far will she go to learn the whole truth—and will it be enough to outrun the lethal consequences?

Growing up as a foster child, Brooke Perry has known more than her share of hard times. Securing a successful financial career and marrying Andre, a wealthy businessman, is far more than she ever dreamed she could achieve. And though she's suffered two miscarriages—losses that shook her and Andre to their core—she's content to create the happiest of futures . . .

. . . Until a mysterious other woman, Erika Jones, swears Andre fathered her baby, claimed the child was dead—and made her disappear. Brooke refuses to believe her—until Erika is killed in a sudden, extremely suspicious house fire. Then Brooke discovers Andre's first wife didn't in fact die from an illness.

Now Brooke is determined to uncover the truth, no matter the cost. Even if it means lying to the police—and facing arrest. Even if it takes all her courage to go up against Andre's formidable—and ruthless—mother. And as more of Andre's secrets and double life surface, Brooke will piece together a nightmare beyond mere lies and betrayal, a lethal hall of mirrors where she can believe nothing . . . and the stakes are higher, and deadlier, than she ever imagined.

Release date: August 26, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 272

Sample

I aggressively snatched the free pillow that lay beside me and positioned it over my head. I wanted nothing more than to silence the persistent, annoying ringing of my cell phone that was breaking through the beautiful silence of my peaceful bedroom. It was Saturday and I’d promised my body the luxury of a full eight hours of uninterrupted, blissful sleep, but that was now null and void. “Ugh,” I whined out loud, reluctantly rolling over onto my side, and reaching for the phone. My tired eyes squinted at the brightness of the phone screen.

“What, Reese?” I said, my tone laced with grogginess.

“Why are you still in bed at ten thirty?” Reese chuckled through the phone. Reese was my best friend; we were more like sisters. We met in college on registration day. I was standing in line minding my own business when this unknown tumbled straight into me out of nowhere, and nearly knocked me over. I soon discovered she was trying to escape the unwanted attention of this nerdy guy who was badgering her for her phone number. As soon as we both regained our balance, she apologized. A week later we ran into each other at the campus library and started talking. She ended up inviting me as her plus-one to a party she’d been asked to attend, and we’ve been inseparable since then. Even in our freshman year Reese was popular. Everyone on campus liked her, and we had so much fun.

“Ain’t you supposed to be on a ten-mile run or on that laptop of yours, going over numbers for a client?” she teased.

I playfully rolled my eyes. “You are not a comedian, so stop. I’m a little tired, so I made an executive decision to indulge my brain in some extra sleep. Isn’t that what normal people do on Saturday?” I let out a yawn and shifted my body up in bed. I could feel the exhaustion as it radiated throughout my body.

Christened by someone other than my biological parents at birth as Brooke Hall, I was handed over to and raised in the Los Angeles foster care system. I never had the privilege of knowing who my real parents were, why they gave me up, or if they even loved me. One of the things I learned early on in foster care was that I had other things I could use my time being concerned about. Needless to say, I had known my share of hard times. But determination was rooted deep in my bones, and beating the hand of adversity that had been handed to me at birth was my goal. I graduated from UCLA with a 4.0 GPA. Straight out of college, I landed my dream job at Walter & Hanks accounting firm as a senior account analyst, and within two short years I had been promoted to financial manager. I was just getting started though. Despite this accomplishment, I still hungered for the number one spot, and I was known to work sixty hours a week.

“Well, how about that sleep you dreamed of today, you get tomorrow? It’s beautiful outside, and I have the bursting urge to go out and do some shopping today. Would you please join me? We could grab lunch and catch up,” Reese suggested.

“Oh, Reese, as tempting as that sounds, I can’t. I brought some files home that I must review and a few reports to skim through as well.” I glanced over and could see the sun trying to burst through my Calvin Klein curtains, where a visible gap was the result of me not having pulled them closed tightly enough. Oh, how I longed to be out in the sun, free, laughing, and doing some retail therapy. But that was not on my short-term goals list.

Reese released a sigh, and I knew what was coming next. “Brooke, haven’t you worked enough this week? That is the reason you are so tired. One plus one equals two,” she lectured, fussing over me with her usual concern.

“I know, I know,” I replied, nodding. “But these two clients are important. Their company is fairly new, and they are already in trouble. However, I think I can help them before it gets out of control.”

“If you say so.”

“How about we do lunch this week?” I negotiated. I really did want to hang out and do some shopping.

“Nope, I’m not falling for that. I’ll be getting a call with that ‘I’m sorry, Reese, but I need a rain check. I have this or that, I absolutely must tackle.’ She mimicked me. Her voice sounded like mine; she was hilarious. “Yep, that bullshit, not drinking from that cup.”

“Hee, hee,” I chuckled out loud, my cell phone still pressed to my ear. She had cut me to the quick with her truth.

“But I do have an idea. You remember Anthony?”

I didn’t like the sound of her having an idea. It could be the undoing of my willingness to be great. Reese’s ideas had dragged us both to downright near compromising situations. But we always stood by one another, through thick and thin, so thankfully we had survived them all.

The air-conditioning was sneaking in on me, sending a chill through my body. I pulled the covers up to my shoulders for warmth. “Yeah, I remember him, the new guy you are playing around with,” I remarked on her dating habits. Reese was never serious with anyone she entertained. She saw those guys as a moment in time. The irony was most of them actually liked her and never saw it coming when she called it quits.

“Oh, here you go . . . yes, him.” She giggled. “How about we go on a double date? See, Anthony has this friend . . .”

I cut her off immediately. “No, no, no, and NOPE!” I shook my head from left to right as if she was standing in front of me. Although I’m pretty sure my reaction didn’t surprise her at all. Nevertheless, I’d remind her anyway. “I already told you; I will not be going on any more double dates that you orchestrate. Have you forgotten about that last loser you set me up with? He was married!” And that was one of the near-compromising situations I was speaking of. Here I was out on a date with this handsome guy who resembled Common. We were out dining at a nice five-star restaurant when none other than his wife walks in, sits down at our table, starts clapping out loud so that she has everyone’s undivided attention. She then proceeds to enlighten me that the man I am on date with is her husband of five years. Talk about being beyond embarrassed, I thought I would have to wear that shame around for the rest of my life. Since that debacle of a night, I swore off double dates and being set up. But, as usual, Reese was unfazed about that incident and apparently isn’t giving up.

“Listen, I apologized for that, it was like a small hiccup, I had no idea he was attached.”

“Nah, I’m good. Besides, as we both know I’m too busy to date. No man deserves to be robbed of not having my time,” was always my go-to excuse.

“What do you have time for? Please enlighten me. Because from what I understand, all you do is work, work, work. Here I am studying to become a doctor and thought we were supposed to be the busiest people on the planet. But I have more free time than you. Come on, go out with us?” Reese begged me. “You will have so much fun.”

I twisted the corners of my mouth and released an irritated sigh; Reese refused to have a relationship with the word no. If she googled it, she would never find it. So, it would be a waste of my time to say it, especially if I expected her to drop it, so instead I said, “I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising anything,” I added just to be clear. Because if I didn’t, the last thing she would remember me saying is, “I’ll think about it,” which she would put in terms of me saying “I’ll do it.”

“Okay, sounds good, as long as you’ll think about it.” Her tone perked up. “Listen, I got to go, Calvin is beeping in on the other end.” Calvin was another one of her friends. As I said, Reese was never serious when it came to dating.

“What about Anthony and that double date?” I asked for the sake of teasing her.

“You are not a comedian. Now bye.” She ended the call.

I chuckled, then chanted out loud, as I threw the covers off of me, “Give me the single life.” I was content with being alone. Maybe too content. I was focused on my big picture. Companionship was not a priority. Growing up in all those different foster homes, I was used to being alone, feeling unwanted and unloved. So, love was nothing I craved. What I truly wanted was success, and I would work hard until I had every drop of it.

The atmosphere inside Edge Gym was as invigorating to me as always. It filled me with immediate excitement and tranquility whenever I stepped inside. I even enjoyed the scent in the air, which I described as a fragrance of comfort. Reese said I was crazy. She in turn described the air in the gym as a musty sweat. She hated working out but that didn’t stop me from dragging her there whenever I could, which was often. Because no matter how busy I was, pursuing my career on the ladder to success, I was just as tenacious when it came to my body and health goals.

I made it a priority to work out at least three days a week at the gym. In addition to that, I went on a five- to ten-mile run two days a week. I also did my best to eat as healthily as I could. However, like most people, I indulged in foods that were not the best for me but tasted too good to completely give up. I called them my guilty pleasures. That gave me even more ammunition to make sure I didn’t miss my workouts or runs. Today was no different, I was at the gym ready to burn some calories and gain some energy. I always felt like a million bucks when I completed a workout. But at this point, I was starting to believe I would never be able to get my weightlifting started, due to the malfunctioning exercise equipment.

“Come on, machine,” I fussed about the stubborn lift machine. It was refusing to cooperate and allow me to load it with my desired weight. I had been at this for almost five minutes with zero success. I could feel the frustration that was surely etched on my face as I struggled. Determined to conquer it so that I could get my lifting on, I continued.

I turned slightly to my left and watching me was a tall, no less than six-feet-four-inches tall, chocolate-colored, well-built, undeniably handsome guy. His presence gave me a slight tingle in the pit of my stomach. His juicy lips formed a smile and I nearly swooned.

He offered his assistance. “Can I help with that?”

I wasn’t a fan of a man thinking he could do all the things that a woman could not. In most circumstances I would’ve turned him down flat, but I was ready to work out, and after all he was such a delicious-looking piece of eye candy.

Before I knew it, “Yes, please,” rolled from my lips like sugar and spice. I watched him as he flexed his toned body around the lift machine he had been using and was soon standing next to me. I took a step back to clear the way so he could get to the lift machine. I watched with pleasure as he tackled the problem. I surveyed his shoulder muscles as they stretched with each movement he made.

He turned so suddenly I couldn’t remove my eyes before he caught me. “There, it’s fixed,” he announced, his white teeth on display.

“Thank you so much!” I said.

“I’m Andre Perry,” he said, extending his hand out to me. I figured this was a cue for me to offer up my name even though I really didn’t want to. But he had just helped me out of the bind I was in. I figured the least I could do was be polite.

Slowly, I raised my right hand to meet his. “Brooke.” I purposely left out my last name, for all I knew he was a serial killer. We stood there, our hands gripped together like they were mated and engaged in their own conversation. I pulled mine away first. Then silence. “Well, I need to get this workout started. Thanks again.”

“It was my pleasure,” he replied with a slight smile and amusement that twinkled in his eyes.

I nearly blushed. I had to get moving before I said or did anything to embarrass myself. “Excuse me.” I stepped around him and gave the machine my undivided attention. After a few minutes of lifting, I moved on to the next machine. The workout was getting good, my muscles were responding to the pressure, and perspiration was glistening on my skin like a good rubdown with Vaseline.

Two machines later I was on the elliptical and for some odd reason my mind drifted back to the stranger, Andre Perry. I stalled in my thoughts for a minute because that surprised me. I honestly never gave a guy a second thought, no matter how fine he was. I wasn’t the kind to ponder a handsome face for too long. I loved men, their masculinity gave me chills, but they were just not in my short-term goals. But Andre’s glistening skin, white teeth, and nice body were now crowded spaces in my mind that I’d had no idea were vacant. I turned up “Surrender” by Kut Klose on my Beats. I needed to surrender my thoughts to something other than a stranger.

Doing Pilates was last on my list for the day. My heart rate was up and steady, which I could appreciate. I was tired and it felt wonderful. “Whew,” I grunted, wiping the perspiration from my forehead with wobbly legs. My mission workout for the day was complete.

I walked into the locker room feeling accomplished, the adrenaline from my workout still flowing through my veins. The locker room was empty except for a few women getting ready to leave. I quickly located my locker, entered the combination, and retrieved my keys and workout bag. As I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Sweat-drenched and with a rosy glow on my cheeks, I couldn’t help but smile. There was something empowering about pushing my body to its limits and seeing the results firsthand.

Exiting the locker room, I made my way toward the gym’s exit. The atmosphere inside Edge Gym had done its magic once again, leaving me feeling energized and revitalized. I glanced at the time on my phone and realized it was getting late. As I stepped outside, the cool evening air hit me, a stark contrast to the warmth of the gym. I took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of clarity that often followed a good workout. Now, home was my destination.

Pulling into my driveway, I pushed the button to allow one of the doors on my three-car garage to open. Shutting off the engine I reached for my gym bag and exited the car. Unlocking the door, I stepped inside and kicked off my sneakers. The familiar scent of home welcomed me as I walked into the living room. I set my workout bag down and headed to the kitchen to hydrate myself with a glass of water. As I drank, my thoughts drifted back to Andre Perry.

I wondered what it was about him that had caught my attention. Was it his charm, his willingness to help, or simply his striking appearance? I shook my head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. It was time for a much-needed hot shower, followed by some relaxation. Later I had plans to hang out with Reese at one of the hottest clubs in LA, and I was excited. It had been a long time since we’d taken the club scene by storm. It was sure to be epic.

The line at Plush had been excessively long but as usual we had no trouble getting in. Reese was somehow acquainted with the owner, Pierre. So, our names had been placed on a VIP list that basically said we were platinum, which meant no line, no waiting. Plush, with its neon lights, ambiance of sophistication and allure, was one of the few “IT” clubs in LA. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the bar area was the focal point where cocktail waitresses oozed in between and around customers with backlit bottles that shimmered like jewels. Celebrities from all over the world partied here. I had been to Plush on several occasions with Reese, and each time I had enjoyed myself. I was sure tonight would be no different. I was dressed in a cute pair of Dior red bottoms with a Nili Lotan black crisscross bare-shoulder top, and white paper-bag shorts. With a smooth mocha-colored skin tone, a slight dimple on my left cheek, I stood no less than five feet, eight inches tall, with a thin waistline and just the right amount of roundness in my hips that screamed great genes. My soft, straight, naturally colored chestnut hair hung loosely in the bob style it had been cut in. I looked as though I had been plucked right out of the pages of Ebony magazine.

Standing close to me checking a text on her cell phone was my equally beautiful friend Reese. She had a sun-kissed skin tone and was only an inch or so shorter than me. Reese was around the same size as me but just a bit rounder in the behind, which she totally loved. Dressed in a maxi dress that was so tight it would simply be impossible to pinch an inch, Reese would have to not make any sudden movements tonight if she didn’t want to have a major wardrobe malfunction.

“Brooke, I swear we are about to have a good time tonight. It has been way too long.” She gazed out into the crowd of people. The DJ was on fire, playing Rihanna’s song “Pour It Up.” I bobbed my head to the music because I was feeling as good as I looked. I worked so much I had forgotten this part of life existed, but the bright lights and shimmering bottles woke up the fun-loving monster inside of me. Reese eventually led us to the bar.

“What can I get for you ladies?” the muscularly built, medium height bartender asked us.

I had no idea what I had a taste for, but a drink was a must. Getting tipsy was definitely on my list of short-term goals tonight.

“Reese, what are you going to have?” I asked.

“I have no idea, something strong for sure,” she answered back.

“I can handle that for you,” the bartender said with a mischievous smile

“I bet you can,” Reese encouraged him with a playful smirk. “Give us a shot of Patrón.”

The bartender poured up the shots with a practiced hand and handed us the glasses. He winked at Reese, and she couldn’t help but grin. She turned to me, and we lifted our glasses and clicked them in a toast then downed them fast. The warm liquid spread through me like a wildfire, adding a touch of boldness to the evening.

I leaned into Reese. “That bartender sure is cute,” I pointed out.

“Fine as hell is what he is. But he’s a kid for sure.”

I agreed with a nod of my head just as Future’s “Turn On the Lights” came on. “I am so glad we came out tonight!” I shouted with joy.

“Me too. It was way overdue, and I’m going to be sure I enjoy myself. Hell, because you might go into hibernation after this,” Reese teased.

“Shut up.” I playfully rolled my eyes at her. We started laughing.

“ ‘Turn on the lights,’ ” Reese sang. I joined in, threw my hands in the air and vibed to the beat with a little hip movement. We were still standing in front of the bar, so I didn’t want to give away too much, just keep it cute and classy.

The effects of our first shot had kicked in, leaving us feeling carefree. While enjoying the buzz, Calvin, one of Reese friends, approached us. After a quick exchange, he asked Reese to dance. Before I could protest being left alone, she was off to the dance floor. I threw caution to the wind as I turned back toward the bar. I figured now was as good a time as any to grab that second drink.

“Let me guess—another shot of Patrón?” the bartender asked. But I had other plans. It was early and the last thing I wanted to do was end up drunk before the night had even started. I was what you would call a lightweight when it came to drinking. It didn’t take much for me to start feeling light and breezy, but I knew how to coast it. At least I used to, back when I was in college. Tonight, I decided that I would put it to the test to see if I still remembered how to handle my liquor.

“Nah.” I grinned. “Maybe later. For now, let’s do a Long Island i. . .