Chapter 2 Promises in the Dark
I stood on the sidewalk, the divorce papers still gripped in my hands. The air around me was still, but my blood raced like a storm under my skin.
Emily’s perfume lingered faintly in the air—some mix of vanilla and smoke—and the echo of her smug voice stuck in my ear like a song I couldn’t shut off.
“You were always the simple one.”
Simple.
The word pulsed like a heartbeat behind my eyes.
I didn’t move for a full minute. Cars passed. Strangers brushed by. But I stood frozen, not from fear—from calculation.
Something had shifted in me. Something dangerous. Something permanent.
I wasn’t going to collapse. Not again.
I walked into the law firm and dropped the papers on the receptionist’s desk.
“Mr Daniel Foster, please,” I said calmly.
The receptionist nodded and gestured to the conference room.
I sat down, smoothed my skirt, and placed my hands on the table.
A simple woman might cry.
But me?
I’d sharpen.
– –
Three months earlier…
Emily lay tangled in red silk sheets, my cheek pressed against Gabriel’s bare chest.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” I murmured.
He didn’t answer right away.
Outside, the city skyline blinked in blue and orange. Gabriel reached for his phone. He had a meeting in thirty minutes.
Emily traced her fingers along his jaw. “You always check your phone when I bring her up.
”He didn’t look at her.
“She’s filing soon,” he said flatly. “It’ll be over.”
Emily’s lips curved. “You promise?”
Gabriel slid out of bed. “Do I look like someone who lies?”
Emily watched him dress. Tailored shirt. Gold cufflinks. That same cologne that made her feel like she was inhaling power.
“You don’t have to lie, Gabriel,” she said, softer now. “Just don’t disappear.”
“I’m not disappearing,” he said, fixing his watch. “I’m restructuring.”
She didn’t believe him.
Not entirely.
But she pretended to. Because pretending gave her hope, hope that she'll be chosen. That she wouldn’t be just a mistake he deleted once the divorce was done.
He kissed her forehead.“I’ll call you tonight.”
—
Present.
I sat at my kitchen table, my fingers wrapped tightly around a coffee mug I hadn't sipped from in an hour.
The lawyer had said the paperwork would be filed by Monday. A judge could finalise things within sixty days.
Sixty days, and I would no longer be Eve Flores-Grayson.
I set the mug down and looked across the kitchen. Every surface was spotless. Every corner of the house is immaculate.
I had built this home.
Decorated it. Filled it with laughter. Cooked its meals. Kissed its man.Now I didn’t even recognise the air inside it.
There were no more photos of me and Gabriel in the bedroom. I had taken them down before he got back from “the office” last night.
He hadn’t noticed.
I wondered if he noticed anything anymore.
—
The door opened.Gabriel walked in like nothing had changed.
Briefcase. Bluetooth headset. A dismissive nod in my direction.
“Morning,” he said, as he placed his keys on the counter.
I didn’t respond.
He looked at me, puzzled.
“You okay?”
I stood.
“You’ve been sleeping with your secretary for eight months,” I said calmly. “And you ask if I’m okay?”
Gabriel’s jaw tensed.“Don’t start.”
“I saw her today,” she continued. “At the lawyer’s office.”
He blinked.
“She told me I was the simple one.”
Gabriel turned away, walking toward the fridge.
“She shouldn’t have approached you.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“She’s emotional.”
I laughed—sharp and hollow.
“You told her we were over. Promised her a life. What did you think she’d do? Wait in the shadows while you came home to play house?”
Gabriel’s silence said everything.
He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Or worse, he had—and didn’t care.
“I want you out,” I said.
“I still pay for this house.”
“Then take the walls,” I snapped. “I’ll build another life with my name on it.”
—
Emily poured herself a glass of red wine, pacing her apartment like a lioness with a wounded paw.
Her phone buzzed.
Gabriel.
She snatched it.
“You confronted her?”
His voice was low and annoyed.
“You told me to wait,” Emily hissed. “You never said she’d fight back.”
“I told you I’d handle it.”
Emily’s voice trembled. “You said we were starting a new life.”
“I never gave you a timeline.”
“You used me.”
Silence.
Her fingers dug into her wine glass.
“Do you love her?” she whispered.
More silence.
Emily’s throat burnt.
“I’ll make her leave you,” she said softly. “Watch me.”
—
Later that night, I sat alone in bed, a file folder open in my lap. It held bank statements, copies of Gabriel’s asset transfers, and a list of properties I hadn’t even known they owned.
The man I married had turned into a stranger with offshore accounts and burner phones.
I found a number in his recent call history. Not Emily.
A lawyer.
His lawyer.
I dialed it.The man answered on the second ring.
“Grayson & Miles.”
“Hi,” I said, voice steady. “I’m Eve Flores-Grayson. I believe you represent my husband.”
Pause.
“Yes, Mrs Grayson. How can I help?”
“I need a copy of all documentation filed for our separation. I want to see what he’s already prepared.”
The line was quiet for too long.
Then the man said, “He... hasn’t filed anything.”
I froze.
“Excuse me?”
“We’ve been drafting terms. But nothing was filed. He said he was... waiting for the right moment.”
—
The next morning, I opened my front door to a courier envelope.
No sender.
Inside was a letter.
My hands trembled as I unfolded it.> "Eve,
I thought you deserved to know who he really is.
You were his ‘image’; I was his truth.
Don’t fight me. You’ll only lose.
– Emily"**
Inside the envelope was a photo of Gabriel kissing Emily. Another of them in bed.
And an ultrasound printout.
Twelve weeks pregnant.
—
I stared at the sonogram.
I had never hated someone this deeply.
Not even Gabriel.
Because Emily wasn’t just trying to steal my husband.
She was trying to erase me.
