He called her wife.
I stood there like a joke—a pathetic joke stabbed through the heart—watching my husband, who once held me so tenderly, whispering endearments to another woman.
"She's your wife? Then what about me? What am I?" I choked out.
I laughed, and then the laughter dissolved into tears. I wiped them away roughly.
When Stella shoved him aside, I used all my strength and slapped him across the face.
Gerald looked at me, silently begging—asking me to give him a way out, to save his dignity.
"Aliyah," he said quietly, "I'm sorry. I lied to you. You are the mistress."
A hollow laugh escaped me.
Then, right in front of him, I pulled out my phone.
"Hello, is this 911? Someone is involved in—"
Before I could finish, he snatched the phone and ended the call.
He frowned, annoyed. "Stop making a scene. I told you I'll compensate you."
Hearing his words, Stella softened instantly. Worried the situation might damage his reputation, she turned to me and spoke gently.
"Ms. Ruiz, this is my husband's fault. We're willing to compensate you," Stella said.
Compensate?
A heavy weight pressed against my chest.
"And what exactly are you compensating me with?" I sneered.