Chapter Twenty-Five #2
As the child’s life improves, thanks in part to the support of the charity, it’s fascinating to see how the pictures change, introducing color, flowers, and space.
The most recent image drawn by the artist who affected me the most introduces features on their characters’ faces, and some even have smiles. My eyes fill with tears to see the progression this artist has made.
A young lad dressed from head to toe in Chelsea Football Club clothing approaches us, and I blot away my tears. I’d guess he must be around nine.
My husband seems delighted to see him; they tap their fingers together in a fist pump.
“Hey, Tobias, how’s life?” Spencer asks.
The lad shrugs nonchalantly, glancing around him. Perhaps too cool to be speaking to the adults.
“Pretty good.”
“That’s great. How did you get on at the try-outs?” Spencer asks him enthusiastically.
A smile rips across Tobias’s face. “Really good.”
Spencer’s face lights up with joy.
“Really? That’s amazing. Well done. I knew you could do it.”
I note he doesn’t push him for any more details, letting Tobias tell us his news.
As if Spencer suddenly remembers I’m next to him, he turns and says, “Tobias, this is my wife, Sophie.”
Tobias instantly becomes shy. His gaze briefly flicks to mine, and he mumbles, “Hello.”
“Hi, Tobias, it’s nice to meet you.” I say clearly.
My attention returns to Spencer, unsure what else to say.
“Tobias is one of the best footballers I’ve ever seen. Justin from Carlo and my kickboxing gym knows the trainer at Chelsea. He helped to arrange a tryout for Tobias on their youth team.”
Finding a shred of confidence from somewhere, Tobias adds, “I got a call to go back next week.” His chest puffs up with pride.
“Mate. Congratulations, that’s huge!” Spencer exclaims.
Clearly, excited about the boy’s announcement. I notice aside from the initial fist pump, Spencer never touches him. Never pats him on the back or ruffles his hair as I suspect he normally would. I’m intrigued.
As Tobias moves away, Spencer tells him to text our driver, Tony, so that Tony can collect him and take him to the ground.
The two’s interaction shows a friendship and affection I knew nothing about.
A weight I didn’t even realize I was carrying lifts, though it leaves me shaken.
Spencer’s ties to this place, to these children, run far deeper than I ever imagined.
He must have spent more time down here than I previously thought.
Enough, in fact, that he’s cracked through this shy young man’s iron exterior to learn what’s really important to him. The thought makes my heart glow. Perhaps he hasn’t spent every waking moment away from me fucking other women as I’d assumed.
As we leave Tobias, I glance around, pleased to see the event is busy with lots of couples milling around.
Somebody catches Spencer’s eye across the room, and he takes my hand.
“I’d like to introduce you to someone,” he murmurs.
I let him guide me through the room, a quiet sense of pride bubbling inside me to be on his arm.
“Dr. Klein?” he says as a striking woman in her mid-forties turns around, her expression open and composed.
She smiles—first at Spencer, then at me. It’s not a polite smile. It’s warm. Familiar. As though she knows us.
“I’d like you to meet my wife, Sophie.”
Her gaze sharpens slightly, not in judgment but recognition. I reach out to shake her hand, trying not to flinch at the thought of how much this woman knows. About me. About us.
“It’s truly a pleasure to see you, Sophie,” she says sincerely.
“And you, Doctor. Thank you for helping Spencer.”
She chuckles softly, her tone light but her eyes still perceptive. “I think when we’re outside the office, ‘Harriet’ is just fine. Don’t you?”
I nod, smiling, though there’s a knot of uncertainty in my chest. I’m not sure what she sees when she looks at us—but I suspect it’s more than I’d like.
One of the event organizers, Brendon, approaches just as I’m becoming a little unsettled. He apologizes for stealing both Spencer and Harriet away, explaining that it’s time for everyone to take their seats for the presentation.
Spencer mentioned that Brendon had been asking him to do this for years. But until recently, he hadn’t felt comfortable speaking publicly about his involvement—especially not as a sex club owner. He never thought it was appropriate.
Now, he’s less guarded. He’s still private but no longer ashamed. Tonight is the first occasion that Spencer’s agreed to speak, and most people in this room still aren’t aware of his connection to the charity.
Before heading toward the makeshift podium, he leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, murmuring a quick, “You okay?” The way he checks in with me—so attentive and present—makes me smile.
This is the man I married. And right now, I couldn’t admire him more.
I stand at the rear of the hall, proudly listening to my husband explaining how many families the cause has helped this year, when I sense someone sidle up beside me.
“Mrs. Barton-Jones, how nice to meet you in person.”
The soft, plummy voice whispers, I turn, surprised to see the one woman I hoped never to see again: Kalie.
What the fuck is she doing here? To keep my composure, I plead ignorance.
“I’m terribly sorry, should I know you?” I ask with a false smile.
“Oh, I’m sorry; I saw you a few weeks ago at your husband’s sex club,” she purrs, oozing confidence and extending her hand. “I’m Kalie Hammond.”
“Ah, Kalie, I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you without my husband’s cock in your mouth.”
The stretch of her eyes tells me she wasn’t expecting such a response, and I’m delighted to return the favor of catching her off guard.
I slide my palm over hers with a sickly sweet smile etched on my lips.
“I’ve been trying to contact Spencer, but he refuses to take my calls.”
I nod. Interesting, he hasn’t mentioned this to me.
“Well, he’s kind of busy at the moment,” I jerk my head toward the stage. “Can I give him a message?”
She looks between my eyes as if searching for something. What, I can’t imagine . . . hatred, maybe?
“I’m sorry for having had an affair with your husband.”
I smile, determined to give her the impression I’m just humoring her.
“Thank you, Kalie, I appreciate the sentiment; it’s very sweet but you see, the term ‘having an affair’, to me, would suggest you were ever a risk to my marriage.” Her expression sharpens. “You weren’t.”
She glances at the podium, at Spencer, and I notice the muscle dancing in her jaw. My vindictive side makes me pleased to see how I’m affecting her.
Spencer’s words falter, he stammers, and I glance over to see he’s glaring straight at her, his cheeks losing its usual color.
“You see, my husband has done this for years.” I lean forward, dropping my voice to a whisper. “It’s one of our little kinks. He goes out, meets slutty women who he can manipulate into performing more and more outlandish acts for him. Then, he comes home to fuck me while telling me all about it.”
My mouth moves an inch closer to her ear.
“It turned me on to hear you begging for my husband’s cock.”
I notice her breathing has changed and suspect she’s getting angry. Nowhere near as angry as me though, I’m fucking furious. Has he shared his involvement in this place with her? Does she know more about him than I do?
“I’ve been to see the doctor,” she continues, still staring at my husband.
Her hand slides across her perfectly flat stomach, and my heart sinks; oh, fuck. Has he lied about how often he touched her? My head is spinning. I need to get out of this room.
“It’s very important that I speak to Spencer.”
I bob my head and smile, but my previous confidence is evaporating.
“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll make sure he calls you,” I say, my voice echoing in my ears. As if I’m down a long tunnel and I can’t see the end.