Getting His Ex Back At All Cost

Michelle Sanders poured more gloss into her rich black hair and stared at her reflection for the millionth time. She stood upright and inspected the outfit she had chosen for the evening. It was a light brown chiffon top that complimented her beautiful glossy skin tone and it was tucked in with black palazzo pants. She noticed her curves and stared at her big round butts which pushed the pants to form a perfect figure.

Michelle was very beautiful and she knew it. But she always took her time to stare at her reflection before leaving the house in the mornings when she reported at the firm of tax lawyers she had worked with for three years, and even when she was going out for a morning jog. She gathered her hair and leveled them on her shoulder before deciding the lip gloss was not enough. She reached for it, pressed it against her lips, and smacked them until it was evenly spread on her small lips. Then she practiced a few smiles.

"You don't need to try too much."

Michelle shifted her gaze from the standing mirror to the other lady in the room, Beverly. They had met in college when Michelle was reading for hours, trying to pass out of law school with a distinction. Beverly was making a career in performing arts. It was Beverly's first week in Chicago and she was tired of spending good money on hotels. Michelle was trying to find accommodation outside the premises of the law college.

Michelle was bargaining with Tonia, the house agent when Beverly announced herself into the small office. Beverly needed a room. Michelle couldn't afford the high cost. Tonia was exhausted for the day and she figured it was better if the two ladies rented the apartment together. Lesser work for her.

"I know, Bev," Michelle responded. She took a quick glance at the mirror again before moving to the shoe rack where work shoes dominated. She picked a black stiletto that belonged to Beverly. It had become a rule never to ask for anything. She placed the heels over her feet and added six inches to her height.

Beverly was dressed in a black mini gown and red sling-back heels. "Let's go, Mich."

***

The Nile restaurant was one of the most prestigious eat-outs in Chicago with a fascinating and compelling frontier. It was the best stop for most of the affluent in Chicago and tourists who wanted to get a taste of the best of the city. It had always been Beverly's dream to sit on one of those finely polished chairs and have the livered waiters attend to her. When she had saved up enough money, she thought it was wise to live like a rich lady, and she wanted Michelle to experience it too.

***

Oliver Shane had a long day at the company and all he desired was a good meal. Not just any meal but the meal from his favorite restaurant in town.

The car gradually came to a halt right in front of the parking lot, while the driver rushed out to open the door of the backseat. Out came the glamorous, flair young man, Oliver, dressed in an ash-colored suit vest with a white shirt, sleeves rolled and ash pants to match, a watch on the left hand with a ring on his pinky finger, a pair of black brogue shoes, some dark shades and a smile to match it all up. He was charming and of a good height.

The security man at the door greeted him twice and he strutted in. He glanced to his favorite spot in the restaurant and noticed it was occupied by two ladies.

A waiter ran to his side when he noticed his pause.

"What's the matter, sir?"

Oliver pointed to his spot. "Occupied." He frowned at the waiter.

"I'll get it sorted out at once," the waiter said and hurried to the corner table.

The two women were sipping wine and waiting for their orders when the waiter rushed to their side.

"Pardon me misses, but this table needs to be vacated," he stated. The women were disgusted.

"We just got in here," Beverly stated. "Don't we have a right to sit wherever we want?"

"Y-yes, of course! But this is an emergency."

Beverly was ready for an argument about why she needed to remain undisturbed. She had saved up for weeks to afford the restaurant. Do they smell poverty too?

Michelle placed her hand gently on Beverly's hand. "It's a good thing that our order hasn't arrived. We can move to another table, Bev."

Beverly eyed the waiter angrily.

"I beg your patience," he offered.

"Let's go." Beverly grabbed her purse and moved to two tables behind. Beverly was still fusing about the ill-treatment when Oliver walked up to the vacated table. Beverly stopped when she saw the tall, handsome man walking gracefully towards his table. She watched him until he was sitting comfortably on the chair she sat on a few seconds ago.

Their orders arrived and for a few seconds, Beverly focused on the meal set before them.

"Cheers to the big life," she said.

Michelle smiled. The big life was great and luxury was golden. She just didn't know if she could get used to it. She dug knife and fork into the rotisserie chicken and reveled at the way it melted on her tongue. Surely, she could do this every weekend if she had the money to toss out.

Oliver sat a few meters before them with his phone latched between his ear and his elevated shoulder.

"Kayla...will you listen to me now?" He was visibly annoyed. "I didn't become CEO by being lazy...and I don't want to hear your excuses. I want those documents typed and submitted on my desk by 8 in the morning or consider typing a resignation letter instead."

As Kayla continued speaking, Oliver glanced around the restaurant. His order had arrived and was slowly cooling down. He noticed a lady in a black gown sitting some tables away stealing glances at him. He glanced at her exposed thighs and remembered she was one of the ladies he had displaced earlier. Kayla's excuses caught his attention again and he groaned angrily.

"Kayla, I'll say this one last time. I want those documents ready or you can prepare your resignation letter tomorrow. Goodnight." He ended the call and dropped the phone on his table. A sigh of exasperation escaped from his mouth and he stared at his compensation. After a stressful day, he deserved nothing but a good treat. He dug into the meal, took a bite, and escorted it with a flush of red wine. Oliver was a slow eater. He took his time to survey the outside world and the restaurant again before he found his gaze settling on the table where the two ladies dined. This time, he studied the other lady. With her black hair falling carelessly on her shoulder and a continuous smile on her face, she looked beautiful. He watched her as she spoke to the other lady who he had caught gazing at him earlier. His eyes fell to the physique he could see above the table and he concluded she was sexy. His gaze moved to the meal before him again and he took a bite.

Beverly took a sip of the wine beside her and smiled. "That's Oliver Shane," she said.

Michelle raised her head from her plate. "Who?"

"The guy who took our table."

Michelle took a glance at him and noted that he was good-looking. "Okay." She returned her attention to the food before her.

"Okay?! Oliver is a big name in America, not just Chicago." She sighed. "We should do this again. Next month, Mich."

Michelle toyed with the piece of chicken on her plate. "You know I cannot afford that, Bev."

Beverly rolled her eyes. "C'mon, babe. You work in a law firm – a tax law firm. You see money every day."

"Money in papers, Bev. Even if I get to see these dollar notes, I can't take them."

"I didn't say you should steal them, Mich."

"Yeah." Michelle took a small chunk into her mouth. "I'll take us out next month but not to this expensive restaurant. Remind me how much a glass of wine cost here."

Both chuckled.

"We've got to get used to it."

Michelle always believed in cutting her coat according to her cloth. Spending hundreds of dollars in one night wasn't an indulgence she could afford. Both ate silently while considering how a life of affluence could affect them. For Beverly, it was a start. Michelle toyed with the idea but her account balance frightened her.

A few minutes later, the two ladies signaled the waiter. Beverly was flashing her debit card when the waiter pointed to the handsome man who had rudely taken their table. "Don't bother, miss. The gentleman over there has settled all your bills."

When the two ladies were looking at him, while trying to understand why he paid for their meal, Oliver strolled from his table and joined them on the vacant seat beside the table.

"Oliver Shane," he introduced himself.

Beverly thought it was her luckiest day. A man as rich and handsome as Oliver was sitting with them. Where were the news writers? She has always had a crush on him, and here he was, sitting at the same table with her. She was sure the night would end well for her.

Oliver's gaze was fixed mostly on Michelle, and seeing her closer, he discovered she was more beautiful than he'd imagined.

"It's my way of saying sorry. I love that position so much, it is my favorite spot."

"Of course."

Michelle nodded calmly and wished he would just leave them alone.

"Am I forgiven?" Oliver added.

"It's not a problem," Beverly responded. She smiled when he focused his attention on her. "I'm Beverly Daniels and..." She pointed to Michelle who was growing uncomfortable by the minute. "...that's Michelle Sanders."

"It's a pleasure to be seated with such beauties."

Beverly feared her cheeks were reddened with excitement. "The pleasure is ours."

Oliver took another glance at Michelle who hadn't spoken for a while.

"What do you do?" he asked her.

"I'm a lawyer."

"Oh! Great! And your friend?" He wanted her to be involved in the conversation but Michelle didn't count herself among those who could maintain a conversation with a stranger, especially one who had rudely displaced them from their table.

Beverly saved the moment. "I'm a dancer...a choreographer." Now that Oliver's eyes were fixed on her, she felt delighted.

"Awesome," Oliver said.

"You should come to one of the events I'm performing. That's the only way I can forgive you." She grimaced in mock annoyance until he accepted. Oliver faced Michelle and she wished he didn't.

"And the quiet lady to my right?"

"You've paid for our meals...I think that is enough."

"What law firm do you work for?" Oliver was determined to make the reticent lady talk.

"Bernard, Cole, and Dylan."

Oliver raised his eyebrow in amusement. "That's great."

Robert Dylan, who was his friend, was one of the new partners in the firm.

"You must know Robert Dylan then?"

Beverly was furious. She had been completely ignored by Oliver and he was talking to Michelle who wasn't interested. She bit her lips angrily and wished he'd ask her more about her profession.

"Yes," Michelle was saying. "He's my boss."

Oliver was excited. He took out his business card and placed it on the table. "Give me a call." He was still looking at Michelle when he said it. Beverly eyed the card.

Michelle nodded, although she knew she was never going to make the call.

Oliver stood up politely. "It's been a great evening with you ladies. Have a goodnight."

Beverly smiled at him. "I'm looking forward to you keeping your promise."

Oliver nodded. "Of course."

He took one last glance at Michelle before walking.

Beverly watched him as he walked away, determined she would have him.

The morning was like what it had been for the past two years – tense.

Michelle woke up that morning and didn't feel like going to work. But she knew that despite the bustling activities at Bernard, Cole, and Dylan, it was the place that offered the abandonment of her miseries. A day filled with signing of documents and speaking with the firm's clients didn't offer her much time to recount her woes, and when she returned home, she was too tired to dwell on them. But the mornings came with the hurting reminder that Oliver was not the man she fell in love with two years ago. Maybe he was still that proud and rich guy who was able to take away a table from two ladies, maybe he wasn't even proud. Michelle could barely say five correct things about the man who stood at the end of the aisle, watching her, while she adorned herself in a white gown, and promised to be by his side.

Oliver hadn't lived to his promises.

It had been bearable to conceal her worries during the first few months of their nuptials until Michelle couldn't keep it a secret anymore. Oliver Shane never hit her – he was a man who could never subject himself to hit a lady – but there were days when Michelle wished he could tell her what she had done, even hit her, and reconcile their differences. But Oliver had his way of dealing with his wife. And it hurt Michelle to see their love quickly fading away, leaving nothing but latent indignation, voracious hatred, and excessive change.

All Michelle wanted was to please her husband, and by a miracle, receive the affection she used to enjoy during the days when they dated.

Oliver wanted her to change her wardrobe after they got married and Michelle had willingly tossed away her fitted and perfectly sized work clothes, to clothes that were not sewn for her size. She buried her full-length mirror in the lower drawer of her dressing table alongside the many items she had loved to use in beautifying her looks. Now, all she stared at in the morning was a palm-sized mirror. She caught her reflection on the reflective surface and forced a smile. Even without the make-up, she was still beautiful. And irresistible to her reticent husband most nights.

She dashed out of the room and met Oliver in his usual morning position.

"Good morning, babe," she said, hoping he would take his gaze off the magazine in his hand and smile his response.

Oliver hesitated. Maybe he could ignore her greeting or pretend he didn't hear her. "Good morning, Michelle." His eyes never left the page, even though the words inscribed on the pages were becoming invisible. He gripped the edges of the Morning Digest and focused on the biography of the man of the month. After being recognized as the best business mogul in Chicago for months, Oliver was looking forward to seeing his picture appear on the front page of the magazine again.

Michelle never had an appetite for breakfast but she knew how important it was if she wanted to cope with the stress at Bernard, Cole, and Dylan's law firm. She fetched some coffee from the coffee machine and four pieces of cookies on the saucer.

Oliver raised his head from the blank pages and watched her.

It's too difficult, he told himself. Just too difficult.

At first, he thought he could live with her sin, forgive her, and move on. But he kept thinking about the photos that proved everything he had heard about her. He had excused her that she was drunk that night but over the past few months, Oliver wondered if he had not made a mistake donning his suit and standing by the altar while his disloyal wife-to-be walked to him. Maybe he could have said "I don't" and walk away. But he couldn't hurt her. Now, all he did was hurt her. Even when he made love to her.

He tried to forget about her treachery but he wasn't sure if she was a repentant sinner. When Michelle turned her head to face him, he returned his unfocused gaze to the magazine.

"I left some cookies in the jar," he heard her say. Oliver knew Michelle was dying to have a conversation with him, but he was past indulging her. He closed the Morning Digest and walked out of the room.

Michelle swallowed the hurt painfully and wished the tears wouldn't fall again. She pursed her lips and blamed herself for trying too much. Maybe she could learn to hate him. But how could she hate a man she loved so much?

She pushed the rest of her breakfast aside and took a quick glance at the sitting room she had decorated in their first month as a couple. Michelle had many things she wished to do, but Oliver was killing her slowly. She grabbed her bag and steadied out of the house.

Oliver was watching her through the window as she slid into her car and drove off.

He placed a call. "Follow her and tell me where she goes."

He sighed and pushed his back to the bed, realizing she could be opening her legs to every lawyer at the firm.

***

Michelle could never say she was strong enough to ignore Oliver's attitude. Her heart yearned each day for his affection and her eyes poured out her emotions every morning in the solitude of her car. Her eyes were blinded by the tears that freely escaped as she drove on along Harlem avenue. It was Beverly that helped her sanity.

"Bev..." she cried into her phone.

Whenever Beverly got a morning call from Michelle, she knew it was about Oliver.

"Michelle." She rolled on her bed and sat up. From the opposite window, she glanced at the busy street with workers brisking on the sidewalk. "How are you, my friend?"

Michelle began sobbing harder. "I'm freaking tired, Bev. I wanna give up." She sniffled.

"No," Beverly cautioned. "You can't do that, Mich. What happened this time? Did he hit you?"

Michelle closed her eyes briefly and released the tears hanging on her lids. "No...I wish he did. If that would make him sorry and talk to me."

Beverly sighed. "Maybe he's going through a difficult time at work."

Michelle scoffed. "Difficult? He was on Forbes two months ago and his face was on the Morning Digest three times. Oliver was the same during those months."

"Maybe you should talk to him."

"Again? The last time I did, he called me a slut. God knows I've been faithful to my marriage with him. It hurts so much when the person you love changes too much...I've done everything he wanted me to do for goodness sake."

"I'll come over today. How about that?"

Oliver was always calmer whenever a guest was around. It was those moments of pretenses that Michelle dwelt on. Those were the times when Oliver will look at her and offer a smile. They were the times he used endearments. And the aftermath hurt her more because it was a reminder that Oliver was deliberately hurting her.

"You should," Michelle surrendered. Maybe she could revel in the pretenses and begin to live in the lies that they were in love.

"I'll be there by six. What time do you close today?"

"I don't know. If there's not much to do, I'll be home by 5."

"Call me when you're coming. And Michelle...please, be happy. At least, you're married."

That was no solace.

Michelle scoffed. "That's satisfying. I miss our little space. I miss how I use to think about what to buy every month."

Beverly rolled her eyes and plopped on the bed. "You spent a fortune decorating when we should have used the money to go out."

And the first outing I take you, you grab a good guy, she added subconsciously.

Michelle chuckled. Beverly always knew how to make her feel better and make her heart bear lesser sorrows. "At least, you appreciated it. Guess who else loves my creative designs? Nobody."

She made a turn into 82nd street and joined the traffic of vehicles at Nottingham avenue.

"Oliver is a good man," she heard Beverly say. "Be patient with him, my friend."

Michelle sighed. "I'll do my best to be the best wife. I'll stop being naughty."

She stopped at the traffic light.

"I didn't mean that, Mich."

Michelle stared at the moving digital timer attached to the traffic light. "I know. I just lack the strength for humor sometimes."

The traffic began to flow again and she joined drivers along the double carriage road. She made a stop at Bernard, Cole, and Dylan's law firm. It was a large structure overlooking 83rd street.

"I've got to go now, Bev. It's going to be a busy day."

"I'll see you tonight."

"Sure."

Michelle killed the engine and slid out of the car. She stared at the daunting building. It was another day of work. Angry lawyers and angrier clients.

The firm was buzzing with activities when Michelle walked in. It was a rule at the firm that all PAs and secretaries resumed before the junior lawyers. The senior lawyers could resume before 9a.m and the partners strolled in whenever they liked. Their presence, was, however, never unnoticed. Bernard announced his entrance by finding a fault from the lobby to his office on the second floor. Cole walked in with an entourage of personal assistants and secretaries. Robert Dylan was the youngest partner.

He had taken partnership of the firm from his retired father, Donald Dylan, and Michelle Sanders worked directly under him. In her years of working with him, Robert had never misused his position to be tardy. There had been times when she walked into his office and met him seated. Other times, he slept on the couch in the office.

Michelle met Agnes Miller, one of Robert's secretaries, as she walked into the office. She was holding a large folder with an unpleasant grimace plastered on her face. Michelle stared at the name attached to the folder. Mark Grinner. Mark was one of the firm's clients she wished she didn't have to work with.

"Mark wants all his documents assessed today," she announced. "He's threatening to leave if we don't give him what he wants by the end of today."

Michelle eyed the one-foot folder. "I can't sit and do this all day." She pushed through and walked to her cubicle. Agnes followed her. "I've been working on this since 4 a.m. Robert wants it done."

Agnes was a large woman who didn't care about her physique. Her protruding stomach and layered chins never bothered her. And when she was exhausted, her breathing became labored. Michelle could hear her labored breathing as she arranged her table. The large folder in her hands was enough to make her breathless.

"Drop the files, Agnes."

Agnes dropped them with a thud. "Robert said he's coming late. Worked his ass yesterday until 11 pm. I don't think he slept after he got home."

Michelle raised her head from the table now and faced the brown woman. "Is it The Perry's tax fraud?"

She nodded and moved closer for gossip. "The FBI is getting interested."

"Dylan isn't an accomplice." She flipped open the folder and browsed through the pages, hoping Agnes would leave her office. But Agnes loved a good gossip.

"I'm already dropping letters at other companies. If the FBI is interested in the case, we are doomed."

Michelle disliked pessimism and disloyalty. She moved to her seat testily and focused on the files. "Do you have any other errands, Agnes? If you don't, I have a very busy morning." She pointed at the file. "I'll like to get started."

"Sure." Agnes grinned. "I'll be careful with what files I work on if I were you." She dropped her unnecessary words of advice and left the office.

Michelle threw her shoulders to the chair and huffed out. It was just 8 am and there was already too much to process. She worried more for Robert, that for a moment, she forgot about her ordeal.

Perry was a vicious businessman who never wished to go down alone. His businesses all through five states in America were dirty and disguised under the claims of chains of honest businesses. The Bernard, Cole, and Dylan's law firm had handled his tax for all businesses for ten years. Donald Dylan had dealt with him personally, and when he retired, he handed his files to his son, Robert Dylan. If Donald knew about Perry's dirty business, he didn't inform his son when he was handing clean files to him. A week earlier, the CPD found the face of the man they had been searching for. Perry Thomas. A few days later, multiple chains of illegal businesses outside Chicago were discovered. The FBI became interested. Perry Thomas was remanded, and during his interrogation, he mentioned the tax firm. Robert Dylan had been dealing with him personally for five years and he became the subject of the FBI's further investigation.

Robert was worried and Michelle could only feel sorry for him.

***

Michelle didn't realize the morning had passed until Agnes barged in again. Michelle raised her head from the mammoth folder and frowned.

"If you think I'm here to give you advice, you're wrong." Agnes was always dramatic.

Michelle dropped her hand on the folder and glanced at the time. The realization amused her. Four hours had passed like an hour and a throbbing headache stuck to her head. "What do you want?"

Agnes folded her arms. "You wanted to know when Mr. Robert was in the office."

"Yes," Michelle replied urgently. "Is he busy?"

"He just got in. He's sitting calmly on his chair."

"Thank you, Agnes."

Agnes was leaving when Robert slid into the office. Michelle stood up when she saw him.

"Michelle," Robert started before she could speak. "How are you?"

Michelle forced a smile. "I'm fine, sir. How are you?" She studied his face. "You don't look fine."

"You don't look fine either. What's the matter, Michelle?"

Michelle sighed and sat. She knew it was hopeless trying to lie to him. Robert always knew whenever she was sad. Somehow, he was able to read the sorrows in her eyes. "You already know," she managed. Even as she thought about the answer to his question, unshed tears threatened to pour out.

Robert took a seat. "What did he do this time?"

"That's the problem. I wish he would do something or say something. If I've offended him, he should let me know. I'll apologize...and-" She flipped through the pages of the folder.

Robert watched her solemnly. It was almost as though he could see through her heart. And it hurt him because his friend maltreated her. He even felt worse because he felt Michelle had dated Oliver on the premise that they were friends.

"It's frustrating, you know." She covered the folder. "Let's not talk about it. How are you? Are the police still bothering you?"

"I got a call from a Michael Trent. He said he'll be coming tomorrow. The cops have dwelt on incriminating everyone that is involved with Perry."

Michelle stretched her hand towards him. "I trust you, Robert."

"Thanks, Michelle." He studied her for a brief moment. Despite the sad look in her eyes, she was still beautiful. Michelle had always been beautiful, and over the years, she had grown to become more gorgeous. And it still amazed him how his friend had such a beautiful wife and dared to maltreat her.

If she was mine, he thought...

He pushed the thought aside and dwelt on the folder on the table. "I'm sorry for the urgency. Mark Grinner is always this way."

Michelle offered a weak smile. "I've worked with him for three years. I understand, Robert."

"How is it going?"

"Terrible. I have a headache."

"Maybe you should stop for a while."

"And get queried by the other two partners, whose favor I do not enjoy, for allowing an important client to lose in the market even when the cops are threatening to shut down the firm?"

Robert chuckled and stared at the wall above her. "A new decoration?"

Michelle nodded. "All that's left is a grandfather's clock."

"You should have a break, Mich, and I mean it. There's a snack shop on the next street."

Michelle stood up. "I will have lunch if you will stop starving yourself and eat with me."

"I ate breakfast, Michelle."

"You can't construct a lie and you know it. Come on."

Robert smiled secretly. For a moment, his problems were forgotten...He gets excited always, waking up to know that Michelle was a part of his life...the only downside to it was that, she was his secretary, married to his best friend... if only she knew...