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Chapter 07
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2024-08-21 14:13:13Sarah's POV
“Aren't you getting off miss?.” The driver cut me off from my thought immediately. I shaked my head twice to return to my right senses and the moment I touched my cheeks gently, I realized tears had started dropping down from them.
I was just so lost in thought that I had forgotten that the car had stopped already. “Oh yeah.” I exclaimed.
“Sorry for the interruption,” the driver apologized, his eyes darting to the rear-view mirror as I opened the door.
The night air was a cold slap to my tear-stained cheeks, snapping me back to the present. I stepped out of the car while my legs felt as unsteady as my heart.
“No need to apologize,” I muttered as I handed over the fare and turned away before the driver could catch another glimpse of my distress.
“Over here ma'am.” The security guard’s deep voice jolted me out of my daze, beckoning me towards the open front door. I followed his gesture towards the exposed entrance, the inside of the hotel was visible through the clear glass panels.
“Thanks,” I muttered, managing a small smile as the guard helped me carry my luggage through the heavy doors.
The reception area was majestic, its beauty and style coming from the pretty furniture, shiny lights, and marble floor. As I approached the receptionist, a tall, immaculately dressed man with a friendly smile, I took a deep breath, attempting to put on a brave face despite the turmoil I felt inside. “Welcome ma'am.” He uttered and I nodded my head twice and forced another smile.
“For how long would you be staying?.” He questioned and let out another warm smile. The receptionist's smile was contagious, and I couldn't help but reciprocate his warmth, despite the storm raging inside me.
"A week should be enough," I replied, though I knew I couldn't stay much longer, as I had plans to move on. Richard had made it clear where I stood in his life: nowhere. His actions had left me feeling devalued and disrespected. Martin’s words rang in my mind, urging me to seize control of my life. I had no ties to hold me back, no loyalty to maintain.
My reverie was interrupted as the receptionist returned, her smile never wavering. “Here you go, ma’am,” He said.
“Huh?”
“Your keys.” He added, handling me the keys to my room as he let out another warm smile. This time, Yet this time, the smile felt almost forced, as though it was nothing more than a veneer of hospitality.
With a nod of thanks, I took the keys and began to make my way towards the elevator. As I walked, I tried to shake off the unease that had settled over me.
The moment I got into my room, I heard my phone ring out abruptly. I quickly answered, bracing myself for the conversation to come. “Hey mom.” I uttered while I kept my phone 1 inch away from my ear. I knew If I told mom about my divorce with Richard, she would scream the hell out, so I was very prepared this moment.
“Hey, Sarah! How did it go? Any news?” Mom’s eager voice came through the line, her excitement palpable even through the phone. My heart sank, and I inhaled deeply, steeling myself. “Mom, I need to tell you something,” I said while my voice began to quiver slightly.
For so long, Mom had been my rock, my pillar of support. In my darkest moments with Richard, she'd been the one to pick me up, dust me off, and urge me to stay strong. But now, as I stood on the precipice of shattering her expectations, I felt my knees begin to buckle.
How could I explain that my loyalty and goodness hadn't been enough? That despite my best efforts, Richard had left me in the cold? That I felt worthless, alone, and unable to hold onto the life I once knew?
“Go on baby, did it go well?” She questioned once again.
Mom’s voice on the other end of the line was all it took to trigger the dam of emotions that had been building inside of me. I tried to speak, to find the words to explain, but my throat felt like it was being clenched in an invisible fist. The cruel words and deeds of Richard echoed in my mind, and I felt myself drowning in the misery of it all.
“Mom,” I choked out, my voice barely audible over the lump in my throat. "It's Richard...we...we got a divorce.”
“What?, how is this possible and how could you not inform me about these Sarah. No!. It wouldn't just end this way!” Mum's outraged words slammed into me like a freight train, compounding the guilt and shame that already weighed so heavily on my heart. Before I could even formulate a response, the line went dead.
I stood there, alone in my hotel room, the echoes of Mum's disapproval ringing in my ears. Tears streaked down my cheeks as I sank to the floor, cradling my head in my hands. I felt like a failure, unable to keep my marriage afloat or even keep my mother's approval.
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Sarah's POV“You really shouldn't have agreed to sign the divorce Sarah, I'm so disappointed right now.” Mom uttered as she began to pace around the hotel room. I sat still in the bed while my gaze was fixed right on the floor. Somehow, I was beginning to regret agreeing to Richard's divorce. But still, I needed my own happiness. Was I the only one to endure this pain. “I'm so sorry mom, I just had to, I need to be happy once again mom. I really need to find my own happiness and depart from Richard. I can't endure everything anylonger.” I responded. My voice had began to crack a little and I felt my palms were already sweety.Mom took her gaze aside for a few seconds and then darted them back to me. “You're right baby, I think it time you find what really makes you happy rather than spending the rest of your life with that coward.” As soon as I heard her words, my frown turned into a broad smile immediately. I felt a gentle touch on my hands and it made to look up instantly. Mom sat
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RICHARD’S POV.I leaned back in my chair, letting the smooth jazz from the speakers fill the room. We sat in the bar lounge in the mansion.Martins sat across from me, swirling his wine like he always did when he was about to say something serious. I could see that look in his eyes—the one that said he was about to dig into things I didn’t want to talk about. “You know,” he started, his voice low, “sometimes I feel pity for her. Sarah didn’t deserve all that.”“Pity?” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, harsh and cold. “For her?” I shook my head, taking a long sip of my own wine. The taste was bitter on my tongue, but it matched the mood. “I don’t feel anything for Sarah, except maybe... hatred.”Martins raised an eyebrow at me, clearly not buying it. “Hatred? Come on, Rich. She’s not that bad.”“Not that bad?” I shot him a look. Was he serious? I stared down at my glass, watching the red liquid swirl. “You know how this all started, don't you?” I felt the anger rise in me aga
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Richard pov.Susan walked into the penthouse like she owned the place. Her heels made sharp clicks on the marble floor, echoing through the quiet room. She stopped in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips, eyes scanning every corner. I stood back, leaning against the doorway, watching her take charge. She was like a force of nature, and I liked it. No hesitation. No second-guessing.Susan was strong, confident, and every bit the woman I had always wanted by my side. No pretense, no forced affection. Just her, raw and real.“This place needs a makeover,” she declared, her eyes sweeping over the furniture. “It still smells like her.”I watched as she called for the servants. They came rushing in, looking nervous. Susan was already pointing out things she didn’t like. “Get rid of that sofa,” she snapped. “And that painting—trash it. It's ugly.”She moved through the room like a storm, ordering everyone around. Something was exciting about how she took charge. Sarah never d
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Richard pov.Weeks passed, and it was the same thing every time Susan and I went out. People always found a way to bring up Sarah, to compare them. It was grating on my nerves. Why did they have to pick on Susan? It wasn't her fault that I didn’t love Sarah. If anything, Sarah was the other woman. Susan was the one I'd loved from the start.I stood outside our bedroom door, listening to her muffled cries. We had just come back from another event, and it had happened again. Someone had called her ‘the other woman.’ My hands balled into fists. Why couldn't they just let it go?Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. Susan was on the bed, face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking. I walked over and sat beside her, reaching out to touch her back.“Susan,” I said softly.She jerked away from my hand. “Don’t,” she snapped. Her voice was raw. “You just stood there, Richard. You just watched while they called me the other woman.”I felt a knot in my stomach. “I... I didn't kno
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Richard pov.The call from the police came just after dawn, jarring me awake in the cold, uncomfortable chair next to Sarah’s hospital bed. I fumbled with my phone, heart pounding as I stepped into the hallway to answer.“We’ve located Susan,” the officer said. “She’s in custody. We’d like you to come down to the station.”My grip tightened around the phone. The relief I felt was fleeting, quickly replaced by anger. “I’ll be there,” I said, my voice low.Zoe appeared beside me as I hung up. She had been sitting with Sarah through the night, taking turns with Martins to ensure I wasn’t alone. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but her concern for Sarah mirrored my own.“Was that about Susan?” she asked.I nodded. “They’ve got her. I’m heading to the station.”“I’m coming with you,” she said firmly.“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Stay here. I need someone I trust to be with Sarah.”She hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But keep me updated.”When I arrived at the police station, Martin
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Richard pov.The cold, sterile environment of the police station did nothing to settle the unease that had been gnawing at me since Sarah’s fall. Sitting across from Isabelle in the small interrogation room only amplified it. She looked different—disheveled, almost feral—but her eyes still held that same unhinged intensity I remembered from before. Martins sat beside me, arms crossed, his body language radiating skepticism and disgust. The officer standing by the door had warned us to keep the conversation civil, but I wasn’t here to trade pleasantries. “Why, Isabelle?” My voice was steady, but my hands clenched into fists under the table. “Why did you hurt Sarah?” She tilted her head, a slow, deliberate movement that made my skin crawl. Then, she smiled—a twisted, almost childlike grin. “She wanted to take you from me,” she said, her tone eerily calm. I blinked, the sheer absurdity of her words momentarily robbing me of speech. “Take me from you? Isabelle, how many times
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Sarah pov.I woke up feeling like I was floating on air. Memories of last night flooded back—the soft glow of fairy lights, Richard’s face as he knelt before me, the ring that sparkled on my finger. I glanced at my hand, letting the sunlight catch the diamond, and smiled. It still felt surreal. The baby stirred, a gentle nudge reminding me she was there. “Good morning, little one,” I murmured, rubbing my belly. She responded with another kick, and my heart swelled. Today was going to be beautiful, filled with friends and laughter at the baby shower. But as I climbed out of bed and pulled on a robe, a faint unease settled in the back of my mind. Something I couldn’t quite place. When I reached the kitchen, the smell of coffee and the sound of laughter greeted me. Zoe was sitting at the counter, holding a steaming mug, while Martins leaned back in his chair, mid-joke. “Ah, our glowing bride-to-be!” Martins said with exaggerated flair, waving his hands like a magician. I roll
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Richard pov.It had been a month since our trip to the nearby town. Sarah was now in her eighth month, and every day, I marveled at how gracefully she handled the ups and downs of pregnancy. But today was about more than just her strength—it was about giving her a moment to remember forever. I had planned a re-engagement surprise for her, one that would let her know how much she meant to me, now and always.“Martins, hurry up with the banner!” I called out as my best friend tried to figure out which end of the ribbon went where. He muttered something about not being a decorator, but I ignored him.The house was chaotic, but the good kind. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I rushed from one end of the living room to the other, adjusting balloons and making sure the decorations didn’t look like a Pinterest project gone wrong. I wanted everything to be perfect for Sarah. After everything we’d been through, she deserved that—and more.“Richard, mate, you need to chill,” Ma
