THE OTHER WOMAN

OLIVIA I chewed slowly, staring at the plate in front of me as I dragged my fork through the grilled fish. I barely noticed how little I’d been eating lately. I had never felt this numb or sore before. The front door creaked open, then shut with a sharp click and a burst of laughter followed almost immediately. It was feminine, and something cold jolted through my chest. “Oh, darling, I’m yours all night.” My fork froze halfway to my mouth. My fingers went stiff, my heartbeat skipping before it started pounding too fast. The breathlessness in her voice turned my stomach inside out. A deep chuckle followed, one I recognized too well. It was Dominic’s. That same chuckle that once made my heart flutter, now twisted in my gut. “I can’t wait,” Dominic replied, his voice low. My blood ran cold. The fork in my hand dropped with a clink on the plate. My heart slammed against my ribs, each beat louder than the last as the words sank in. Did he… bring a woman home? He wasn’t even hiding anymore. He was no longer using late nights explained away by work. He didn’t bother to lie to me anymore. He had the nerve to bring a woman into our house, our marriage bed only steps away. My hands shook, and I pressed them flat against the cold kitchen counter, trying to steady myself. I told myself I could handle an open marriage. I told myself it wouldn’t hurt. But this…this was different. This was him throwing it in my face. So this is where we are now. The woman giggled again, her voice bouncing down the hallway, and my stomach knotted so hard it hurt. How long had I been blind while he lived like this? With a sharp breath, I shoved the plate away and pushed back from the table. My chair scraped the floor as I stood, and my legs carried me toward the stairs before I could think twice. The muffled laughter behind me dug into my skin like tiny needles. I didn’t dare glance toward the sitting room where they were. I couldn’t face them, not after what I’d just heard. My heart hammered as I gripped the railing and took the stairs quickly, almost tripping in my rush to get away. I told myself to keep moving, just get to the top, shut the door, and lock out the world— Then a voice stopped me cold. “You must be the wife.” I froze mid-step, air stuck in my throat. Slowly, I turned my head, eyes lowering to the woman standing at the foot of the stairs. Vivienne Cross. She stood tall, confident, and strikingly beautiful with a smug, cocky smile on her face. Her eyes locked onto mine, and she had the nerve to smile, as if we had something in common. The nerve of her made me want to march straight down and wipe that smile away. But what angered me more was that Vivienne wasn’t some stranger. When I was still modeling, I was the name people talked about, the face on almost every cover, the woman they all wanted to be. I walked the best runways, attended the most exclusive events. Back then, Vivienne was just another new girl in the crowd, wide-eyed and quiet, always hanging around the edges like a fan. I noticed her during events and photoshoots and she always wanted to speak to me. But she changed just after I quit modeling. Bit by bit, her features sharpened, and her presence grew. Before I knew it, she was everywhere—on covers, on billboards, even on runways I used to own. And she dyed her hair the exact same shade of red as mine, like she was taking over my personality on purpose. Now she stood at the foot of my stairs, looking at me like she owned my husband and maybe she did. “Olivia.” Dominic’s voice rang out. I couldn’t bear to stare at him, not with Vivienne standing there so smugly beside him. “You must…” he continued, his words trailing off as I hissed in frustration, my teeth grinding. I stormed upstairs, my feet barely touching the steps. Inside my room, I slammed the door behind me with a force that shook the frame. My back pressed against it as I sank to the floor, letting out a shaky breath. Hot tears spilled over, blinding me as I cried. I couldn’t stay in this place anymore. I needed to move out. But, Dominic was wicked and unpredictable. If I tried, he could drag me into court and demand $10 million because this wasn’t just about money to him, it’s about control. My eyes landed on the bed, then the phone on my nightstand. I stared at it, unsure if I could even pick it up, my chest tight, and my mind spinning. My breath caught as I remembered Dante’s text. “I have something of yours. Do you want it back?” I hadn’t replied yet. My lips pressed together at the thought of him, his gaze on me, his hands on me. No. I told myself I wouldn’t end up in his bed again, no matter what Dominic did. I wouldn’t reply. I exhaled shakily and forced my eyes away from the screen. But then the sounds from the next room hit me—moans, whispers…Vivienne’s voice, alive with pleasure. I pressed my palms to my ears, willing the noise to vanish, forcing my gaze to the blank walls around me. It didn’t help. My chest tightened until I could hardly breathe. My legs wobbled as I stood, crossing the room to the nightstand. I grabbed my phone, thumb hovering over the screen, heart pounding. Finally, I typed: “I’ll come get it myself.” I hit the send button and his response comes almost 30 seconds later. “My driver will get you in 10 minutes.” ************** I stepped into Dante’s living room, my footsteps slow and unsure as I fiddled with the strap of my purse, my fingers twisted around the leather. My eyes fell on Dante sitting on the couch, his legs crossed, and his gaze fixed on me. For a few seconds, no one spoke but I could feel my body respond to the intensity of his eyes. “You didn’t come for the ring, did you?” My lips quivered, and I bit down. “He…he brought a woman home.” Tears streamed down my eyes. “I could hear my husband and her…..I didn’t know what to do.” He let out a soft exhale and rose from the couch. He leaned closer, cupping my chin gently, his thumb brushing away some of my tears, though more kept falling. He studied me silently for a moment, then asked, “Did you come here just to cry?” I swallowed hard. “I just…” My voice broke. “I just want to stop thinking about what they’re doing back there. I want to stop hearing their moans in my head.” He leaned in, his face inches from mine as his fingers trailed lightly along my jaw. “I can make you forget.” He paused, and his thumb stroked my chin, then tilted my face closer. “But I want something in return.” “What?” I whispered. “A divorce.”