Page 25 of Am I the Only One

I hang up, and not a second later, she walks in, dripping in a designer-labeled dress and blazer. She closes the door behind her, and when she turns to me, she’s stone-faced.

“Eloise, what are you doing here?” I question, keeping my tone as polite as possible.

She doesn’t return the pleasantries as she stalks across the room to where I stand nervously. I swallow hard as she opens her pocketbook and takes out a check.

My check.

The one I wrote to Gerald.

She holds it out for me, but all I can do is stare at the check I gave him a couple of days ago.

“Well,” she says, “aren’t you going to take it?”

My perturbed eyes lift to meet her cunning ones.

“Go on,” she urges, nudging the check toward me. “It is yours, isn’t it?”

Fear makes me want to lie, but my signature is inked on the bottom line. Slowly, I take the check, and when I do, I see fangs as she steps even closer.

Her demeanor turns menacing, and with a low, stern tone, she says, “If you ever think about crossing this family again, I will single handedly dismantle your life, piece by piece, until you’re left with nothing.”

Venomous fright slithers its way around my body, chilling my skin into a cold sweat.

“Don’t ever doubt my ferocity to keep the Montgomery name an honorable one. Not only are we powerful but we’re also well-connected,” she tells me, adding, “Gerald is an old family friend, and his loyalties are solid.” Her voice drops another notch. “Tread with caution, my dear, because I will ruin you if you even think about crossing my son again.”

The moment she turns, I find my voice. “I didn’t—”

“I’m confident you won’t mention this little visit to anyone,” she says before opening the door and walking out.

That moment with Eloise was all it took for me to surrender and keep my mouth shut. I feel so foolish for putting my trust into the man who carries the name I now resent. My heart, my life, my money—everything. Tripp has always taken care of me, paid all the bills, made all the investments. Here I thought we were building a life for us, but it’s only been for him. I deserve what is rightfully mine, and people deserve to know the truth about the man who will most likely be elected as their governor.

Headlights pierce through the windows of the formal sitting room, blinding me for a moment. When the dark spots fade, I look out to the driveway but don’t recognize the white car that’s idling in front of the house. I walk across the room, lean against the wall, and discretely peek out the window. My gut somersaults in putrid hate for my husband, who is sitting in the passenger seat next toher—the redheaded bitch.

God, he isn’t even trying to hide this from me. He might as well just slap me across the face with his adultery.

My palms singe in disgust when he leans over and gives her a hug. From this angle, I can’t tell if they’re kissing. It’s taking every morsel of self-control not to run out there like a crazed housewife and cause a scene. But damn it, the urge to claw into the two of them is running rampant through my veins.

I duck back out of view when he gets out of the car. I want to move, but I can’t. Paralyzed in my rage, my chest trembles as I try to take in a solid breath. The door opens and he calls my name as he walks into the foyer, but I don’t answer.

I can’t.

Shit, I can hardly even breathe as emotions combust inside my chest, aching against the bones in my body as I do everything I can not to fall to my knees. When he turns and spots me with my back braced against the wall, he opens his mouth to speak, but I’m quick to cut him off.

“Why are you doing this?”

His shoulders drop. “Seriously. We’re doing this again?”

Looking into his eyes, seeing him for what he is, all the pain and sadness that’s been drowning my heart morphs into something I’ve never felt before, something that scares me. At the same time, it fuels me with the strength I need to step away from this wall. With steady legs and a heart that’s pumping venom, I find the courage to be exactly who Margot was telling me to be.

Because I’m better than this.

Soft and demure, no more. I want nothing more than to punish him, to pulverize the pathetic, picture-perfect world he’s living in. This man I once loved is now the man I want to see rot in front of my eyes. But I want the satisfaction of knowing that his demise was all my doing.

For now, I’ll keep that to myself and swallow every hateful word I want to throw at him.

“I’m sorry,” I say gently as I walk over to him. “I overreacted.”

He shifts in his stance, surprised that I’m not fighting with him.

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