Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
DEVON
Jade doesn't speak at all on the drive home, and I can’t say I blame her. She must feel horrific, and I want to destroy Mila fucking Harris.
I know I kissed her—fuck!—but I hate Mila doing this to Jade and making everything between us worse.
But Jade believes me. That feels better than anything in the world, knowing she found out herself that I was telling the truth. I’m so mad with myself for even putting her in this position.
Jade stares out the passenger window, her fingers still trembling in mine, and I keep glancing at her like I'm afraid she'll disappear if I look away too long. To be honest, I’m just grateful she’s holding my hand. I think about how close I came to losing this. To losing her.
Because of one stupid kiss. One night of weakness that Mila has been using against me ever since.
I’m never drinking again.
"She’s deranged,” Jade finally says as I pull into our driveway. Her voice is empty, like she's still dealing with what happened in the coffee shop with Mila. "Devon, the way she looked at me when I caught her lying—it was like watching a mask crack."
I kill the engine but neither of us moves to get out.
"Tell me everything."
So, she does.
She tells me about the piercing trick—how she invented it on the spot, gambling that Mila would fumble because she'd never actually seen me naked.
God, she’s brilliant.
How Mila's face contorted when she realized she'd been caught. How she started crying, then screaming, calling Jade weak and pathetic and everything Mila used to whisper in the locker rooms and when I wasn't looking.
Hatred bubbles deep in my chest. I wish I’d have known this—I would have ended Mila for daring to hurt my girl.
"She said you only stayed with me because you felt sorry for me," Jade says quietly. "That you'd leave when you realized what I really was."
Jesus fucking Christ—Mila has no soul, I’m sure of it now. “Jade—"
"I know it's not true." She turns to face me, and her eyes are fiery. "That's the thing, Devon. I know. For the first time in my life, when she said those words, I didn't believe them."
I’m so fucking proud of her right now, but I’m also ashamed. Because I'm the reason she had to face that woman alone. I'm the reason any of this happened.
"I should have been in there with you."
"No." Jade shakes her head. "I needed to do it myself. I needed to prove—to her and to me—that she doesn't own me anymore."
I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her knuckles, one by one. "You're incredible. You know that?"
She almost smiles, but then her phone buzzes.
We both freeze, our eyes locking.
Jade pulls it from her purse, and her face goes pale. "It's her."
"Don't—"
But she's already scanning the screen. I watch her expression shift from surprise to disgust to something I can't name.
"What does it say?"
Jade hands me the phone without a word.
MILA: I'm sorry about today. I was emotional and said things I didn't mean. You have to understand—I'm scared. Pregnant and alone. I should have been honest from the start. Can we talk again? Please?
I stare at the words until they blur.
“What is this shit?” I question, fear clawing up my throat like a condemned man trying to escape the flames of hell. I honestly don’t know what Mila is capable of, or if I’m strong enough to keep fighting her.
I have to be, though, for Jade.
"I know what she's doing." Jade takes the phone back, her jaw tight. "Delete or ignore?"
She’s asking me for my opinion, like it matters. Like we’re a team again. I could fucking weep. Instead, I roll my shoulders and tilt my head to look at my wife.
"Ignore. Don't engage. That's what she wants."
We go inside, and I make us both coffee. The house feels better when Jade is here with me, like she completes it. I guess she does.
I keep checking my phone, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mila won’t leave us. This much I know; I just don’t know why. Maybe Jade’s right and Mila is just nasty—look how she treated Jade way back. I wish I’d fucking known, I’d have put a stop to it somehow.
My poor girl. I can’t even begin to imagine how she feels—how she felt when she saw me in Mila’s room that Saturday morning. I close my eyes briefly and try to calm my racing heart.
I’m so sorry, Jade.
It takes forty-three minutes.
My phone lights up with an unknown number. I blocked Mila and the other number, but she's found another way.
UNKNOWN: We could have had it all.
I show Jade. Her lips thin into a hard line.
Another message arrives before I can respond.
UNKNOWN: You could have had everything that night, and you threw it away. For HER. What does she have that I don't? Other than rolls of fat, a double chin, and high cholesterol? Tell me. I deserve to know.
My hands shake with rage, but then another comes through.
UNKNOWN: You're ignoring me now? After everything? I'm carrying YOUR child and you can't even respond to a fucking text?
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, my hands trembling as I shove them through my hair. I can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel if someone like Mila was pregnant with your child. I shudder.
Jade reaches for my phone, and I let her take it. She scrolls through the messages, her face unreadable.
"She's losing it," Jade says. "This is—this is textbook harassment, Devon."
My phone buzzes again. And again. And again.
UNKNOWN: I know where you live.
UNKNOWN: I know where she works.
UNKNOWN: You think you can ignore me?
UNKNOWN: I’m carrying YOUR BABY.
The messages keep coming, rapid-fire, each one more unhinged than the last.
UNKNOWN: DON’T IGNORE ME, DEV!
UNKNOWN: If I can't have you, what's the point?
That last one worries me.
I look at Jade, and I see my own fear reflected in her eyes.
"Is she threatening to hurt herself?" Jade whispers.
"I don't know." My voice sounds foreign to my own ears. "I don't know what she's capable of anymore."
I thought Mila was manipulative. Obsessive, even. But this—this is something else. This is someone losing it in real time, and we're watching it happen through glowing text on a screen.
"We need to document everything," Jade says, suddenly all business. "Screenshots. Timestamps. Her number from the text, too. All of it."
"Are you thinking we should get a restraining order?"
"I think we need evidence.” Jade grabs her laptop from the coffee table and opens it with trembling hands. "If she escalates further—we need proof that this has been ongoing."
I watch my wife—this woman I've hurt so badly—take charge of a situation I created. She's saving us both, and I'm standing here like a useless fucking bystander.
"I'm sorry." The words scrape out of me. "Jade, I'm so fucking sorry. This is all because I—"
"Don't." She looks up at me, her eyes blazing. "We can wallow later. Right now, we protect ourselves."
For the next two hours, we screenshot every message. We create a shared folder. We write dates, times, and contact methods. Jade drafts a timeline of Mila's behavior since New York—the texts, the gym, the pregnancy claim, today's confrontation.
By the time we're done, my eyes ache and my back is stiff from hunching over the kitchen table.
"This is insane," I remark, staring at the documented evidence of a woman's breakdown. "How did it get this bad?"
"She's been building toward this for a while." Jade closes the laptop. "You were the reason, but this isn't about you, Devon. This is about her. About whatever is broken inside her that makes her think this is okay."
I want to believe that. I want to believe I'm not entirely responsible for unleashing this chaos on our lives.
But the guilt is feeding on every new message, every escalation.
My phone buzzes one more time.
I almost don't look.
But I do.
UNKNOWN: Jade looked so smug walking out of the coffee shop today. You should tell her to be careful. Accidents happen.
I grip the chair, cursing under my breath. She’s threatening Jade.
"What?" Jade asks. "Devon, what is it?"
I turn the phone toward her.
She reads the message, and I watch the color leave her cheeks.
I pull her into my arms, holding her tight against my chest, and I feel her heart hammering against mine. Two people clinging to each other in a world that no longer feels safe.
"We're calling the police tomorrow," I state into her hair. "First thing."
Jade nods against my shoulder.
And neither of us sleep that night.