Page 3 of The Mistletoe Promise

Fucking finally.

It's bad when you want to divorce your wife mere weeks after marrying her. But I'm done and I won't let her try and pull the wool over my eyes anymore.

I'm done.

TWO

AMANDA

My cell buzzes with an incoming notification. I glance at the screen and my brows knit together as I see that it’s an email from Mike Leeland. A private investigator, one that I had used in the past when I suspected my soon to be husband of cheating. Mike is good at what he does.

I hesitate for a moment before opening the email, my finger hovering over the screen. Mike and I haven't been in contact for years, not since he confirmed my suspicions about Jason's infidelity. What could he possibly want now?

With a deep breath, I tap the notification. The email loads, revealing a short message and an attached file:

"Found something you need to see. I’ve attached a few images, if you need anything else, call me."

My heart races as I download the attachment. It contains a few photographs, each one of them so clear to see. Mike has the top of the range scope for his camera, he caught the shots perfectly. My heart stutters as I see my soon to be husband Aaron, his arms wrapped around a woman as they’re kissing.

But it's not the embrace that sends a chill down my spine. It's the date stamp in the corner of the image: yesterday.

I stare at the photo, my mind reeling. I knew he was full of shit when he promised me he wouldn’t cheat on me again. I forgave him the first two times. Shame on me. God, I’m so naive, I really thought he loved me.

I scan through the next few photos, trying to see if the woman he’s holding is someone I know, maybe one of his work colleagues, but the joke’s on me yet again as I see the photo of the two of them in our bedroom, hands all over each other and naked. What makes this worse, the woman he’s with—my mother.

With trembling fingers, I dial Mike's number, praying he'll pick up and offer some explanation that makes sense. Because right now, nothing does. How fucking long has this been going on? I didn’t hire him, so why is he looking into Aaron?

The phone rings once, twice, and then Mike's gruff voice answers. "Leeland here."

"Mike, it's Amanda," I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... I got your email. What the hell is going on?"

There's a pause on the other end, and I can almost picture Mike rubbing his stubbled chin, choosing his words carefully. "Amanda, I'm sorry you had to find out like this. I've been keeping tabs on Aaron for a while now."

"But why?" I demand, anger rising to replace the shock. "I didn't hire you this time."

Mike sighs heavily. "I know, but a couple of months ago, I spotted him out with a woman that wasn’t you, it was around the time you sent out your wedding invites. I knew he was cheating on you, I just needed to give you proof.”

"He’s been cheating on me for that long?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"From what I've gathered, at least six months," Mike replies, his tone sympathetic. "Maybe longer."

Six months. Half a year of lies, of betrayal. And not just from Aaron, but from my own mother. The thought makes me physically ill.

I sink onto the chair, the phone still pressed to my ear. The room spins around me as I try to process this information. Six months. Maybe longer. Every kiss, every touch, every ‘I love you’ – all lies.

"Amanda? Are you still there?" Mike's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts.

"Yeah," I manage to croak out. "I'm here. I just... I can't believe this. My own mother..."

Mike clears his throat awkwardly. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in. But there's more you should know."

My stomach drops even further. "More? What else could there possibly be?"

“From what I gathered, your mom and Aaron had hoped by marrying you that they’d have access to your accounts.”

I grit my teeth, cheating on me wasn’t enough? Humiliating me wasn’t enough? They wanted to take everything I have, too? Fuck them. That’s never going to happen. God, how stupid am I? I always knew my mom was a bitch, but I thought she had some love for me, that she wouldn’t do this to her own daughter. So damn foolish.

“Thank you, Mike, I really do appreciate it,” I tell him as I rise to my feet. I’m not going to let this go, I’ve been humiliated, now it’s that asshole’s turn. “Please send me an invoice for your fee.”

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