Her Husband’s Secret Affair with Another Woman (Her Marriage in Crisis #54)

1. Ellie

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Ellie

I thought she was pregnant.

Maybe she lost the baby.

Maybe she lied.

Did she buy that dress off the rack?

I literally never see them together.

Can you imagine the prenup?

I heard he owed her father.

Every time I see her, she looks like she wants to cry.

He used to date models, but he married her?

I bet it’s blackmail.

It was probably to appease the board.

It was probably to piss off his mother.

The champagne glass snapped in my hand.

With a small gasp, I just managed to keep the two-hundred-dollar-a-glass liquid from spilling on my peach dress.

The not-so-subtle whispers fell silent as the group of women standing near the window turned and stared at me.

All blonde and nearly the same height and body type, they could have been clones.

In jewel-colored dresses with their hair pulled high enough on their heads to give them a facelift, they were elegant but severe, with the type of attitude that made any sane woman avoid them at all costs while trying to ignore high-school trauma flashbacks.

These were the women Gideon wanted me to mingle with and befriend.

Two years into our whirlwind marriage, he was just now realizing that I’m lonely. That he wanted me to join the same group of women that two years ago he said were beneath me didn’t escape my notice.

Were these same whispers reaching his ears as well, or was my husband realizing what a fatal error he had made in marrying the cocktail waitress?

“Ma’am, are you all right?” The woman carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres stopped and grimaced when she saw the broken glass in my hand. “Come with me. We should get that taken care of before it gets on your beautiful dress.”

Looking down, I saw the blood trickling down my arm. I hadn’t even felt the cut. Swallowing hard, I nodded and let her lead me from the gala reception to one of the backrooms. “We have a first aid kit here. Go ahead and run your hand under the sink while I grab it. And let me take this.”

Carefully, she removed the broken glass that I was still clutching. “It doesn’t look too deep. Hopefully, we can stop the bleeding without ruining your look with a bandage. Do you want to speak to someone about what happened?”

Blinking, I glanced at her. “Like who?”

“My manager? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a glass snap in half like that before.”

Oh, she wasn’t offering me therapy. She was worried that I was going to make a scene about the glass. “No, it’s nobody’s fault but mine. I guess I don’t know my own strength.”

Relief passed over her face before she turned on the sink.

Running my hands under the water, I blew out my breath and watched as my blood swirled down the drain.

In the first few months of our marriage, I attended these kinds of events back-to-back while Gideon enthusiastically introduced me to everyone.

Gradually, his enthusiasm waned, as did his attention, until I stopped going altogether.

When I volunteered to be at his side for this one, he’d absently told me that I didn’t have to.

It wasn’t until I was in the dress and walking toward him that he even seemed to remember I’d shown an interest. This gala was about raising funds for the local hospital, something I was passionate about.

My friends - or at least the ones I had in college - were threatening to go on strike over their nursing wages, and I wanted to raise some awareness tonight.

Unfortunately, no one looked at me and considered me a credible source of information. No, they looked at me and wondered what the fuck the gorgeous billionaire golden boy saw in me.

The server returned with a clean towel. I pressed it against the wound while she hovered anxiously. “You should try a safety pin,” I said absently.

“Excuse me?”

“Those button-up shirts aren’t meant for women’s bodies. When I briefly worked in fine dining, I learned that a well-placed safety pin would help keep the shirt from gaping at the cleavage. The button panel is usually double-sided, so you thread it through so it doesn’t show from the front.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. You used to work in fine dining?”

“For a short period of time. I learned that serving rich people wasn’t really for me, so kudos to you for sticking with it.

” Pulling the towel away, I ran my hand under the water again and was relieved to see that it had stopped bleeding.

“They don’t make you wear button-up shirts to bartend and cocktail-wait, but the grease stains were a nightmare. ”

“Dish soap,” the woman laughed. “A touch of dish soap on the stain before you wash it helps to remove it, although you probably don’t have to worry about that kind of thing anymore.”

“No,” I murmured. “Life was a little bit easier when it was all I had to worry about.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and I didn’t blame her.

From her standpoint, I’d scored the Cinderella rags-to-riches package, and for a while, when the handsome prince - or in my case, billionaire playboy with the amazing green eyes and perfect set of abs - was still sweeping me off my feet, I also thought the same.

“I brought some of the clear wound glue. It will take a few moments to dry, but at least it should keep it from reopening.”

“Thank you.” I held out my hand while she applied it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask your name.”

“It’s Stacey.”

“Stacey. I’m Ellie Montgomery.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened, and her mouth snapped shut so quickly that I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It’s all right. I know I’m the talk of the town. I guess I should be flattered since I’ve been married for two years. I thought another scandal would come along and make my elopement seem incredibly boring, but I guess not.”

“I don’t know about two years, but you’re definitely the talk of this gala. Oh, shit. I shouldn’t have said that. And I shouldn’t have cussed. I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes were so wide, and I patted her arm as she finished putting the glue on my cut.

“Don’t worry, you’re fine. No one is even trying to be subtle about their gossip.

Thank you for the assistance. I think we’ve managed to keep most of my gown stain-free, which means a little less fuel for the gossip. ”

“Well, for the record, I think it’s incredibly romantic that your husband loved you enough to marry you despite all the odds. What’s the harm of a little gossip? It just makes it easy for you to know who you can and can’t trust.”

If only it were that easy. I really didn’t care about the gossip. I didn’t grow up in this world, so while it hurt that I wasn’t accepted, I knew I’d be fine without them.

But I wasn’t the only one affected by the gossip. My husband might have loved me enough at one time to marry me despite my social status, but I was starting to doubt whether he loved me enough to withstand the gossip.

Smoothing the front of my gown, I walked back out into the gala.

I wanted to go home. To peel off this ridiculously expensive dress, put on my favorite pajamas (the purple ones with the cupcake print), curl up in bed, and read a good book where everyone gets their happy endings.

Pulling a fresh glass of champagne from a passing tray, I held it without drinking and scanned the room for my husband.

Instead, my gaze landed on Victoria Montgomery.

Tall and willowy, she was every bit as ruthless as she looked elegant. When I first met her, my fears had been assuaged. There was no way I would make a misstep in society as Gideon’s new wife with her as my mentor. His mother would no doubt be my fiercest ally.

How naive I was.

She raised her glass in my direction - a small, satisfied motion that had nothing to do with a toast.

Two years. For two years, I had smiled through every barbed comment, every backhanded compliment meant to remind me that I came from nothing, every family dinner where I’d been seated next to whoever happened to be least important.

Every woman she paraded in front of my husband as if he didn’t wear a ring on his finger.

For two years, I had never given her a reason to call me difficult. I had been gracious, patient, relentlessly calm.

The rumors, at least the worst of them, bore her fingerprints.

With that same smile that often made my stomach clench, she wound her way through the crowd toward me.

“Ellie. You really do clean up well. I suppose eventually it will no longer shock me. You look lovely.”

“Victoria. Those anti-aging creams are doing wonders for your skin.” I’d taken her shit for a year and then decided my own words could do some damage.

She flinched but recovered quickly. “I suppose you’re taking a breather from all of your new friends. You’re the talk of the evening.”

“So I’ve heard. It’s so nice to be on everyone’s lips. I’m unused to being the center of attention, but it suits me, don’t you think?”

A cold smile settled on her face. I knew she enjoyed sparring like this even if she didn’t want to admit it. There was no one else who would stand up to her. Her life would be so boring if she got her wish and convinced Gideon to finally divorce me.

“Are you looking for your husband? I thought I saw him step out onto the terrace with Meredith a little while ago. You know how they are. They’ve known each other since they were children. They’re always eager to see each other. She looks ravishing in red tonight. Such an alluring color.”

Meredith. I tried not to let it show, but it was a direct hit. Gideon thought most of the women his mother paraded in front of him were vapid and annoying, but Meredith? They were close. So close that even I wondered why he hadn’t chosen her.

“Thank you for letting me know. I was looking for him. He mentioned taking an early evening tonight.”

Her eyes narrowed.

And then the champagne flute in her hand tilted, just slightly, with no hurry at all, and two hundred dollars of sparkling wine poured down the front of my dress.

The shock of the cold came first. Then the smell, sharp and yeasty, soaking through the silk. The chiffon overlay darkened from pale peach to something closer to rust, and the fabric clung.

Shit. I’d underestimated her, thinking she wouldn’t make a scene. Clearly, I was wrong.

“Oh.” Victoria’s hand went to her mouth. “Ellie, I am so sorry. How terribly clumsy of me. Please. Let me wave down a server to help us. I’d hate to ruin that dress.”

Several people nearby had already turned to look.

I was not going to cry. Not here, not in front of her, not with half the room watching. I pressed my lips together and breathed through my nose and held very still until the heat behind my eyes receded.

“No need. Gideon bought this one. He’ll buy me another. Is that tremble in your hands getting worse, Victoria? Perhaps you should call your doctor first thing in the morning. You know how concerned I am about that.” Turning, I headed toward my husband. I was done with tonight.

The terrace ran along the east side of the building, accessible through a set of glass-paned doors at the far end of the ballroom.

The damp chill of the champagne had soaked all the way through to my skin by the time I reached them.

Through the glass, I could make out two silhouettes in the pale wash of the outdoor lighting.

Gideon. The first time I laid eyes on him, he was in a tux much like this one, opened at the neck with rolled-up sleeves.

His dark hair was tousled, and just a hint of shadow showed on his chin.

This was the aftermath of a wedding when he’d slipped away because a bridesmaid was all but stalking him.

He’d ducked into the diner where I was working a double.

I’d been snarky and rude, and he’d eaten it right up.

Somehow, in the hour that he was there, he’d talked himself into my home.

An hour after that, he was in my bed, and for the next few months, right up until the wedding, we were practically wrapped around each other.

Now, there was another by his side.

She was an elegant beauty. Born to a wealthy family, raised in the right schools, she had always been by Gideon’s side. After the first time I met her, I point-blank asked if they’d ever dated, and he looked utterly confused, like it had never crossed his mind.

And I didn’t trust it for a second. No man looked at a woman as beautiful as Meredith and didn’t think about it.

I pushed through the door.

The night air hit me, cool and smelling of rain somewhere in the distance. Neither of them heard me. Meredith’s hand was flat against Gideon’s chest, and he wasn’t moving away, and his voice carried on the air in pieces - just fragments, out of context, but clear enough.

“The spark isn’t there like it used to be. Everything feels like a battle. Sometimes I wonder if my mother was right.” He paused. “Maybe I chose wrong.”

Inhaling sharply, I immediately backed inside, turned, and pressed my back against the wall. Whatever was happening in front of me was a blur, and the sounds were dull. All I could hear was the sincerity and strain in my husband’s voice.

Maybe I chose wrong.

I’d always thought it, and the only thing keeping me holding on was the idea that he hadn’t.

Maybe I chose wrong.

I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. If I was still here when he decided, it would break me in half.