The Accidental Marriage: Chapter 28

I put down my brush and stare at the canvas in front of me. It’s sizeable, suitable for a detailed piece.

The outline of a powerful man sprawled on a couch with a glass of whiskey at his fingertips takes the center. His dress shirt is unbuttoned, showing his powerful chest.

This is my first oil painting since I left Nesovia. I know Ares says he wants something small enough to carry around, but I can’t capture him in such a tiny medium.

Besides, I can’t give him a present that only took a couple of hours to complete. It wouldn’t show enough care and sincerity on my part. He’s done so much for me.

The canvas is manageable enough that I can finish it in the next four months. That way I won’t linger for too long after my financial emancipation and his promotion. Doris told me unwanted guests who linger are like flies. And although I’m no fan of hers, I suspect she’s right about that.

As for the biggest canvas, the one Ares was a bit embarrassed about… Well, I’m sure someone will make good use of it. Maybe his next wife.

Shoving aside the rather glum thought, I stand and take several steps back to gaze at the canvas again. Many “experts” have said my work was only mediocre at best, but Mom told me art isn’t just about technique. It has to have heart. “Computers have fantastic technique, but nobody buys those because they lack the human touch. Sometimes artists create something that looks like nothing but a huge paint splatter, but somehow the humanity shines through, and they’re prized.”

When I was little, I didn’t fully grasp her meaning. Now that I’m older, I’m beginning to understand what she meant—and appreciate how wise she was.

I roll my shoulders just as my belly growls. Time for a lunch break—an individually packed bagel and whipped cream cheese. Ares tasted the latter before leaving for work. I sit and chew, then thumb through my phone to look at any emails or messages. No social media, since I don’t trust Doris and her family to stay away. Zoe implied that she’s “keeping me safe” from them, but I’m not dumb enough to rely on a sneaky bitch like her. Kidnapping Ares and leaving him to suffer like that—she’s worse than I ever imagined possible.

My phone buzzes with a text.

–Unknown: We need to talk. Just because you’re in his house doesn’t mean it’s over! You aren’t even his real wife!

I purse my lips. Who is this? Some angry woman who got the wrong number? Should I tell her? Or is it best just to delete and block?

–Unknown: I’m right outside. We have to talk. Now!

–Unknown: Don’t ignore me or I’ll go to his office to talk about this.

–Unknown: I’m pregnant!

I raise both my eyebrows. Wow. Talk about drama. Now I sort of want her to keep going.

–Unknown: I’m not the mistress here! You are!

Oh, cheater drama! Guess I should stop her, since she should verbally beat up the guilty party, not me.

–Me: You have the wrong number. You should check so you can vent your ire on the right person.

Two seconds pass before another text pops up. But instead of an apology, it’s a big middle finger emoji.

–Unknown: Don’t play dumb. You think you won because you’re in Ares’s house?

I frown, then go up to the earlier texts. Is she implying Ares is involved in some kind of bigamy? I’m not the mistress here! You are! sounds like that’s what she’s saying, but Ares is a lawyer. Wouldn’t he know that’s illegal?

Even if he, for some unfathomable reason, doesn’t care about the legality because he just wants to get promoted, I care. I can’t have any doubt cast upon the reality of my marriage.

But in case she’s dangerous, I stop by the kitchen to grab a sizable frying pan, then experimentally swing it a few times. Perfect.

I head out and see a skinny blonde in a dark burgundy mini-dress standing by the gates. Her arms are crossed, pushing enormous breasts up to create canyon-like cleavage. A pair of huge white wedge shoes elongate her toned and tanned legs. Actually, everything about her is toned and tanned. Her stomach is flat—so if she really is pregnant, it’s still early.

She glares at me, her blue eyes flashing with anger and resentment. The shade is very similar to Ares’s, but the emotions in them are ugly.

“Oh my God, you aren’t even that good looking.” Something about her face is weird as she speaks. She looks me up and down. “Are you his maid?”

“No.” I flip her the bird with my left hand.

She turns red, and her face muscles twitch awkwardly.

I smile blandly. “Oops, wrong finger.” I show her my ring finger. “Here.”

“Did you grab it off eBay?” she sneers, then sniffs.

“No. Peery Diamonds. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. It’s an exclusive brand.”

“Oh, so you think you’re all that just because you got yourself a hot sugar daddy?” She fumes. Or, at least, that’s what I think she’s doing. It’s hard to tell with her face being so stiff. Then it finally hits me: she’s recently had Botox. Doris was like this too when she sought to preserve what remained of her youth and beauty with my money.

“Are you upset you lost a sugar daddy?” I ask. I can almost sympathize with her plight now that her meal ticket is gone. She’s able-bodied, so why doesn’t she get a job?

“Pfft. I’m rich! I don’t need his money.”

“Well, congratulations. Now you don’t have to worry about not having Ares around.”

She puts a well-manicured hand over her belly. “I’m pregnant!”

“Tell that to the father. There’s nothing I can do for you or the baby. I’m not an OB-GYN.” Then I tilt my head. “By the way, what’s your name? I wanna see if my husband ever mentioned you.”

Vindictiveness gleams in her eyes. “Soledad.”

I feign consideration, then shake my head ruefully. “Never heard of you.”

She turns red. “You bitch!”

“Look, Soledad, if you were really somebody Ares was in love with and you were carrying his baby, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be in his arms, pampered and protected. So, why don’t you go stir up trouble elsewhere? Better yet—go home, stay home, and let the rest of the world enjoy some peace and quiet.”

“Do you think you’re clever because you can say shit about me on the other side of these gates? Look, loser. You aren’t that special. You’re naturally blonde, right? Yeah, thought so. And your eyes—they aren’t fake either.”

I frown. “What are you trying to get at?”

“Ares has only ever dated blondes with either blue or green eyes.”

“So? He has a type. So do I. I like my man strong, wide-shouldered and beautiful, with a sharp mind and beautiful blue eyes.”

“Idiot. He’s been searching for his ‘true love’ all these years. Countless PIs have been hired to look for her. At least once a month they report to him, and—”

“And how exactly would you know that?” I interrupt.

She scoffs, crossing her arms in a way that says, Isn’t it obvious? “Don’t you sometimes check his phone to see what he’s up to?”

“No. But I can see why he isn’t with you anymore if you did.” Maybe she’s the reason Ares is so hung up on respecting boundaries.

“Only naïve fools don’t keep tabs on—”

“But what does that have to do with his relationship history?” I ask, trying to steer her back to the topic.

“He’s been dating women who look like her. You and I—we’re just substitutes. Get it?” Soledad sneers. “There’s no eternal happy ending for you, just like there wasn’t for me. Not even the baby is going to change that.” She pauses, giving me a chance to process.

Her words claw at me—my pride…or my heart… Or it might be the tiny kernel of hope I’ve secretly harbored that one day Ares would care for me—and wouldn’t mind that I’m nothing like the ideal woman he’s described. I keep forgetting our union isn’t about love.

That asshole. He’s too nice! And it’s unfair. He even called himself my knight, even though at that time he wasn’t quite sober. Shouldn’t he have treated me with respectful indifference? Kept himself busy while coming home early enough for dinner once in a while? Not worried about what I can or can’t eat. Not cut a young coconut for me or say that he’d love to take me to Thailand. Not buy me canvases or a set of beautiful paints or brushes and set up a studio in a sunny room that looks out over the garden full of blooming lilies.

He keeps making me feel special. But…

Come on, Lareina. You’re smarter than this. Don’t let this ex with a grudge get to you. You don’t know Ares’s side of the story. This woman could’ve made everything up.

Soledad stares at me, chin raised. She clearly has an ego. She’d never put herself down by calling herself a substitute. No matter how painful the pang in my heart is, I can’t let her win by acting like I believe her.

I put on another bland smile. “Substitute? Says who? What makes you think I’m not the original?” I tilt my head. “That ever cross your mind? I’m not only blonde, but have both one blue and one green eye. Up till now, he had to settle for either blue or green eyes because most people don’t have one of each like me.”

The color drains from Soledad’s face.

“The only substitute here is you. I’m his wife. The real thing. Now, if you don’t have anything interesting to say, leave before I call the police.”

At the mention of the police, she grows even paler. Then she turns and runs.

That afternoon, Ares doesn’t text. And he’s still not home when I finally go to bed at midnight.