Chapter 4

The next day, a message from Janice popped up on my phone.

"We need to talk. Meet me at The Daily Grind cafe at noon. Alone."

I knew it was a trap, another stage for her to perform on. But I was tired of hiding. I was ready for the confrontation.

I arrived a few minutes early and chose a small table in the corner. The cafe was busy, filled with the lunchtime crowd. Janice walked in exactly at noon, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. She sauntered over, a smug smile on her face, and sat down without a word.

"What do you want, Janice?" I asked, keeping my voice even.

"I want you to leave him," she said, her voice low and sharp. "This little charade has gone on long enough."

"That's between me and Jaxon," I replied.

She laughed, a high, unpleasant sound. "Oh, sweetie. There is no 'you and Jaxon.' There is only Jaxon and me. We're married. Did he tell you that?"

She slid her phone across the table. The screen showed a clear photo of their marriage certificate, signed and dated.

"I know," I said.

Her smile faltered for a second. She had expected shock, tears. She didn't expect my composure.

"You know?" she repeated. "And you're still with him? Do you have any self-respect?"

"This isn't about self-respect," I said coolly. "This is about a promise he made to his dying brother."

Her face twisted in a sneer. "Denzel. Always Denzel. He's dead, Elfrieda. And Jaxon is mine. He loves me. He's only with you out of pity. He told me holding you feels like holding a block of wood."

The words still stung, but I didn't let it show. I just stared at her.

My silence seemed to infuriate her. She wanted a reaction. She wanted to break me.

"He's disgusted by you," she hissed, leaning across the table. "Every moment he spends with you is torture for him. He can't wait for this to be over so he can come home to his real wife."

She was trying to get a rise out of me, to make me cause a scene. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

I stood up. "I'm done here."

As I turned to leave, she shot up from her chair. "Don't you walk away from me!"

She grabbed the hot coffee from her table and threw it. The scalding liquid hit my chest and my bandaged arm. I cried out, the pain sharp and immediate, stumbling back.

Heads turned. The cafe went quiet.

Janice's eyes widened, and she immediately contorted her face into an expression of horror. "Oh my god! I am so sorry! I tripped! It was an accident!"

Right on cue, the cafe door opened and Jaxon rushed in, his face a mask of concern. He must have been waiting outside.

"Janice! What happened?" he yelled, rushing to her side.

"Jaxon!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms. "It was awful! I tripped, and the coffee... it went everywhere! I think I burned Elfrieda!" She started to sob, a convincing, theatrical performance.

Jaxon held her, soothing her. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm here." He then turned to me, his eyes cold and full of accusation. I was standing there, my shirt soaked, a new, angry red burn blooming on my skin, my recently healed arm throbbing with fresh pain.

"Elfrieda, what did you say to her to make her so upset?" he demanded.

I stared at him, speechless. He didn't even ask if I was okay. His first instinct was to blame me.

"I... she..." I couldn't form the words. The injustice of it all was choking me.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but you need to stop harassing Janice," he said, his voice low and menacing. "She's been through enough. Just leave her alone."

He put a protective arm around Janice, who was peering at me over his shoulder with a look of pure triumph.

"Let's go, honey," he said to her, his voice softening. "I'll take you home."

He led her out of the cafe, leaving me standing there, humiliated and in pain, under the curious and pitying stares of a room full of strangers. The waitress rushed over with a wet cloth and a first-aid kit, her eyes full of sympathy.

"Are you alright, miss?" she asked. "That looked intentional."

I just nodded, unable to speak. The physical pain was a dull ache compared to the gaping wound in my soul. He had chosen her. In front of everyone, he had chosen his manipulative, cruel wife over the woman he was supposed to marry, the woman he had just let get assaulted.

The cold resolve I'd felt before now hardened into something else. Something solid and unbreakable. This wasn't just about leaving him anymore. This was about making him pay.