Chapter 3
Marlene barely registered how she stumbled out of the company. Her mind was a chaotic blur, a storm of shame, rage, and disbelief.
She stood outside, shivering in the biting wind, her hands trembling as she lit one cigarette after another.
Her phone’s shrill ring shattered the haze.
“You wretched little fool!” a voice screamed. “What have you done? Your father had a stroke from the stress and is in the hospital!”
The words slammed into Marlene, stripping away the last thread of composure she had left.
She raced to the hospital. The moment she stepped through the doors, her mother, Caleigh, slapped her hard across the face. The sting burned her cheek, and the metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth.
Caleigh was trembling with rage, swaying on the verge of collapse. Marlene grabbed her mother’s arm, steadying her while forcing her own panic down.
“Mom, calm down. What did the doctors say about Dad’s surgery?”
Her father, Conrad Fawcett, had suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage and needed immediate surgery. The cost was estimated at 250 thousand dollars.
Fortunately, Marlene had saved enough over the years to cover it.
Outside the operating room, Marlene sat slumped in a plastic chair, her body numb, her mind adrift. Her phone buzzed, jarring her back to reality.
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A string of anonymous texts lit up the screen.
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“Marlene, be smart and stay away from Kenyon. Otherwise, those photos won’t just be sent to your parents.”
“Heard your daddy landed in the hospital from the shock. Wonder if he’d survive seeing something even juicier.”
Her hands shook with fury as she dialed the number, her voice raw with
anger.
“Don’t you dare hurt my parents!”
A soft, mocking laugh came through the line. “Meet me. Let’s have a little chat.”
In the coffee shop, Thelma Glyn sat poised like royalty. She was draped in a Chanel suit, her feet adorned with the latest Miu Miu boots, exuding an effortless elegance.
“You probably haven’t heard,” she said. “Kenyon and I are getting married next month. Once we’re wed, his money becomes ours. I’m not about to let him waste it on some sidepiece.”
“I don’t care how he played around before,” she continued, leaning forward slightly, “but he’s about to be a married man. So, take my advice: fuck off from him.”
When Marlene had agreed to their so–called open arrangement, Kenyon had been very clear that if either of them wanted to marry, they’d cut things off cleanly.
He had promised there would be no messy affairs and no playing the third wheel.
But now, it was obvious he’d never taken that promise seriously.
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“Marlene,” Thelma said, her tone dripping with condescension, “I’ve seen plenty of women try to climb the ladder with their bodies. You know what? They all ended up broken and humiliated. If you don’t believe me, go ahead and test your luck.”
Before Marlene could respond, a splash of scalding coffee was in Thelma’s face.
A gasp erupted behind her.
“Marlene, what the hell are you doing?”
Kenyon’s voice cut through the air. He shoved her aside and slapped her hard across the face.
“Apologize. Now.”
Marlene clutched her burning cheek, her eyes blazing with defiance.
“Kenyon, what am I to you?”
She had met him fresh out of college at twenty–three. She still
remembered her first month on the job, cornered at a client dinner where men tried to force drinks on her. Kenyon had stepped in with a charming smile. “This young lady doesn’t drink. I’ll take it for her.”
He’d bought her medicine when she was feverish and stood up for her when clients nitpicked and bullied.
Later, after too many drinks one night, Marlene had kissed him, and Kenyon hadn’t pulled away. He’d looked at her, asking seriously. “Are you sure about this?”
Marlene had nodded fiercely, believing she was special, and she’d be the one he cherished.
Now, she saw the truth. She was nothing but a punchline.
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Marlene snatched another coffee cup from the table and hurled it at Thelma, the liquid soaking her further.
“There,” she said, her voice steady and venomous. “That’s me splashing
her.”
Without another word, she walked out.
Kenyon stared at her retreating figure, his feet twitching to follow, but a sharp voice stopped him cold.
“Kenyon, don’t you dare,” Thelma warned, stepping closer.
Her clothes were drenched, coffee dripping from her chin, but her haughty air remained unshaken.
“If you chase after her, our engagement is off.”
Kenyon had always known his marriage would be a transaction, a union forged for profit, not love. Even if it meant hurting Marlene, he’d choose the deal.
“Thelma,” he said, his voice low, “didn’t we agree to keep things separate? We each have our fun, and we don’t meddle in the other’s pleasures.”
Thelma let out a soft, knowing laugh, jabbing a finger into his shoulder.
“A little fun is fine. But we both know the truth, Kenyon. You’ve already started to care.”
Lateefa Khanam is a spirited writer who finds freedom in horse riding. She cherishes her mare and the newborn foal, calling them her little happy family.
