Shattered Vows His Mistress Killed My BabyChapter 1
After Otis Henson came home from his friend's wedding, I asked for a divorce.
He frowned, confused.
"Just because the bride was Vivian Whitmore?"
Vivian Whitmore had been Otis's secretary three years ago. There'd been something between them, an unmistakable flirtation that nearly crossed the line before I caught them and put a stop to it.
Otis raked his fingers through his hair like a man driven to the brink, his voice rising in accusation.
"She just married my best friend. What, you think I'm going to rekindle things with her?"
"If it really bothers you that much, I won't go to any event she's at. Is that enough?"
I let a thin, mocking smile pull at the corner of my mouth and slid the divorce papers across the table toward him.
"That won't be necessary. Just sign."
I was done with this marriage built on lies.
...
Otis studied my stubborn expression, then pulled out his phone and held it in front of me.
"Go ahead. Check it."
"Every password is your birthday."
He thought I was spiraling again, that I needed to inspect his phone to feel secure.
It was the unspoken agreement we'd settled into after the incident. His phone was an open book. His schedule arrived in my inbox like clockwork. Every business dinner, every social event, he brought me along.
All to give me peace of mind. All to prove his loyalty to this marriage.
But this time, I just looked at the phone. I didn't take it.
Because I knew that even if I tore that phone apart, I wouldn't find a thing.
Not because he was innocent. Because he had a second phone.
Hidden in the false bottom of the drawer where I kept my lingerie.
Otis was confident I'd come up empty. He tossed the phone onto the bed and strolled into the bathroom without a care in the world.
The sound of running water soon drifted through the door.
I turned and walked into the closet. I reached into the hidden compartment of the drawer and pulled out the second phone.
It was locked. The passcode was Vivian Whitmore's birthday.
The lock screen and wallpaper were both photos of Vivian.
The photo album was filled with intimate snapshots of the two of them together, moment after moment of stolen affection.
Ten minutes ago, Vivian had sent him a message.
"The wedding isn't even over yet and you already ran home. Let me guess, your nagging wife threw another fit?"