Chapter Five

"I'm sorry, Mrs Reynard, but it appears that your bank account has been frozen."

"I'm sorry, what?"

I stood in the doorway and stared at Mr Wallace in confusion as he handed me back the cheque I'd issued him just this morning. I'd managed to get a small apartment in the village, and the owner almost fell over his feet when I arrived here last night, looking for a place to stay. He recognised me immediately as Marcus Reynard's wife, and he couldn't wait to give me the apartment. In hindsight, maybe I should have gone for a hotel. But I didn't want to go anywhere that would attract too much attention. And almost every hotel in Manhattan knew exactly who I was. A small, modest apartment should have been the best option.

But somehow, Marcus had frozen my account already.

"I'm so sorry," Mr Wallace said, almost as if he was ashamed to even look up at me. "Surely there must have been some kind of mistake."

I nodded absentmindedly as a hollow feeling settled in my chest. Marcus. This had his name written all over it. How did he manage to freeze my account so quickly? The bastard must have known I would need to withdraw some money, and he did this to spite me. I should have seen this coming.

"Hold on," I said, heading back inside and grabbing my purse. My other chequebook is still there, the one for the savings account I never use since most of my expenses are taken care of. Or at least they were.

"Here you go," I said, handing a new cheque to the building manager. "I'm sure there shouldn't be any problem."

"Of course," he said, though he still didn't meet my gaze. As he hurried off while holding the cheque up and staring at it, I shut the door and leaned against it, barely able to see in front of me. I'd cried all through last night, but now I couldn't even bring myself to cry anymore. I just felt hollow, like a part of me had been ripped out and it would never be replaced. I didn't want to sit there and mourn a marriage which was never real in the first place.

"Pull yourself together, Olivia," I whispered. "You've got this. He's the one who cheated, not you."

So why did it hurt so much?

No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that this wasn't my fault, I just couldn't help but feel like I did something wrong. Maybe if I had been a better wife, more attentive or more caring, then it wouldn't have turned out this way.

I'd put my entire life on hold for Marcus's sake. I stopped looking for a job when we got engaged, because he told me that it wouldn't look good to his rivals if his wife was working somewhere. He assured me that I would be well taken care of, and that I didn't need to pursue my career anymore.

But now, I was back to square one. I had no job, no house, and only a few bucks left to my name. Everything was tied down by Marcus, and he would definitely use that against me. My only consolation was the fact that once the divorce was finalised, I would get a hefty settlement and I would be able to start my life afresh.

I hated feeling this way, like a leech who was desperately waiting for hand-me-downs from my ex. I hated the fact that even though I’d packed up and left him now, my future was still in his hands. And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

My phone suddenly started to ring, and I dragged myself up and headed into the room. The entire apartment was smaller than the living room of the penthouse, with a single room, a tiny kitchen and a bathroom that didn’t have any hot water (I learned that the hard way this morning). Nevertheless, I overlooked all this as I grabbed my phone and sat by the windowsill.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Liv.”

I froze at the sound of Emily’s voice, and I almost threw my phone out into the street. How dare she call me right now? Was she calling to rub salt in my wounds? To laugh at me and remind me of my current situation?

“Before you hang up, please listen to me,” she said quickly. “I know you’re upset, but I just really need to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you, Em!” I snapped. “You psychotic bitch! You ruined my life!”

“Yes, I did,” she said. “I know I did, and I’m not even going to dispute it. I wish I could stand here and tell you that I’m sorry for how things turned out, but I would be lying to you and to myself if I did. I’m not sorry for what happened, Liv. I wish I was, but I’m not. I’m actually glad it worked out this way.”

“Fuck you, Em,” I spat. “Seriously, fuck you. How could you do this to me?”

“I didn’t do anything to you, Liv,” she said. “You brought this on yourself. You can’t seriously tell me you don’t know the exact moment when your entire marriage fell apart. This did not come out of the blue. Marcus was hurt, and he came to me to console him. You knew I always liked him, Liv. You knew it. And when he came for you instead of me, I didn’t argue with him. I understood that it was his wish, and I respected it. But when you threw your marriage away, I simply picked up the pieces.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked.

“Call me when you figure out where it all went wrong,” she said. “In the meantime, I just thought I should let you know that Marcus is coming for you. I owe you that much, at least. If not for anything, then simply for the fact that we used to be friends. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could be happy for me, then perhaps we could find a way to rebuild our friendship. I truly miss my best friend.”

“I will never let you into my life, Emily,” I said. “You took everything from me. I treated you like a sister, told you things I never told anyone else. I gave you a part of my soul, Emily. And this is how you repay me?”

“Don’t you see your problem?” she snapped. “You always act like you’re better than everyone around you. Little Miss Perfect. It’s always so suffocating being around you. Our friendship could only work as long as you were shining brighter than me, and I stayed in my lane. You could never live with the idea of me being happier than you. But now it’s my turn. You’ve looked down on me my whole life, Liv. But not anymore. I’m going to make Marcus happier than you ever could, and I’m going to heal all his wounds that you couldn’t.”

I didn’t even know what to say to her anymore. The betrayal was so painful that I almost couldn’t breathe. I hung up without another word, then curled up on the windowsill and started to cry once again.

Everything I thought I knew was a lie. Emily had never been my friend. She’d always hated me, and she was simply hanging around because she couldn’t leave. Did I really make her feel that way? Was I always trying to outshine her in everywhere?

No! Absolutely not! I wasn’t going to sit there and allow her to make me feel guilty for what happened. Why didn’t she say anything sooner? Why didn’t she have a simple conversation with me? Did she really need to have an affair with my husband? I was the victim, not her.

At least she’d given me a heads-up. Marcus was coming for me. I needed to be prepared for when he did. And the best way to do this was to get ahead of him. I needed to make the first move, before he did anything drastic. I wasn’t going to sit there and allow him have the upper hand. It was like a game of chess, where everyone knew that the winning chances were higher if you were white, because you got to start first. I needed to make the first move, and strike him where it hurts. I wasn’t just going to sit here and lick my wounds.

Grabbing my phone, I quickly scrolled through my phone until I landed on the person I was looking for. I muttered a silent prayer before I dialled, and he answered on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, David,” I said. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all, Mrs Reynard,” he replied. “I just finished in the courtroom, and I’m about to head out for coffee. Is this about the appointment Marcus made? I thought we still had another thirty minutes before that.”

So he hadn’t spoken to Marcus yet? Great!

“No, it’s not that,” I said. “Although it might be related in a way.”

“I’m listening,” he said.

“David, I need a favour,” I said. “And it’s urgent. I need to know that I can trust you. Marcus cannot know that I’ve spoken to you.”

He paused for a moment, before he said, “Attorney-client privilege, remember?”

“Well, I know you’re the Reynard family lawyer,” I said. “Your loyalty is to them first.”

“You’re getting a divorce,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I said, the words hitting me for the first time. “And I want you to represent me.”

I heard some rustling in the background, like he was checking something. And then he said, “I’m at the coffee shop on 5th Avenue. Meet me in ten minutes.”

“Thank you so much, David,” I said, relief washing over me. “I’ll be right there.”

As I hung up, I felt optimistic for the first time since yesterday. I grabbed my purse and quickly left the room, a small smile on my lips.

The game had begun.