Other Woman
Jane
Before I got into the yellow taxi, Brody managed to catch up with me, wearing house slippers as he followed me.
“Jane!” He grabbed my arm, his fingers trembling slightly. “Please, don’t go,” he panted, his green eyes wide with panic.
“I can’t take this anymore, Brody! I’ve ignored the office rumors, the glances, and your ‘work dinners’ with Sonia. But finding her in our home, wearing my clothes? This is too much!” I shouted angrily.
He glanced around at the people staring at us, clearly uncomfortable with the public scene.
“Jane, please, let’s not create a scene. We can talk about this at home,” he said, which further fueled my anger.
“If you don’t want a scene, return to the penthouse and leave me alone!” I snapped.
Brody ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even more tousled.
“Sonia needed a safe place to stay tonight, so she’s here at the apartment. Her boyfriend hurt her, and she needs to hide. Our apartment was the only place I could think of where she’d be safe.”
I couldn’t believe a word my husband was saying. His excuses only deepened the ache in my chest, and no matter what he said, it couldn’t calm the turmoil in my heart. Every sign pointed to their relationship, and he was clearly just trying to cover up the truth.
“And you think I’ll believe that? Brody, I’m done with you! This isn’t the first time you’ve done something with your secretary that I didn’t like. I’ve told you how I feel, but clearly, it didn’t sink in. Seriously! How would you feel if you found me alone with another man in our home?”
He clenched his jaw. “This is different,” he insisted. “Nothing happened between us.”
“Nothing yet because I arrived!” I retorted.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What do you mean by that? Are you accusing me of cheating?”
“That’s right! Given your past relationship with that woman and the stress you are giving me, it is unacceptable! Just leave me alone because right now, what I want is a divorce!” I said, removing his hand from my arm.
“Jane, please, listen to me-”
No! I’m done listening! I immediately hailed a taxi and had it take me to the airport.
As the city lights blurred past the window, I waited for the tears to come. But they didn’t. Instead, a cold numbness settled over me, somehow more terrifying than the pain. Just before boarding, my phone buzzed with a final message from Brody:
Brody: ‘Let’s talk, Jane!’
We’d talk, and then what? End up right back where we started? Why couldn’t he just let me go and end this endless headache?
I turned off my phone because I didn’t want him to know where I was going. When I arrived at Highland Hills, I turned my phone back on. I received two messages:
The first, from our apartment cleaner: ‘Ma’am, does Boss Brody have a new woman? I found her here this morning, and the boss asked me to make breakfast for her.’
I could only shake my head, a wave of nausea washing over me.
The second, from Sonia herself, made my blood boil: ‘Thanks for leaving on your own. I don’t like the color of the apartment. Brody likes blue. It’s obvious you’ve stained everything I see here. You wouldn’t blame me if I replaced everything here, would you? I won’t be at peace, especially once we start living together.’
The audacity of this woman! I blocked her number instantly! I needed to protect what was left of my sanity. Right now, I no longer care what she wants!
As I settled into the back of another taxi, I scrolled through old messages between Brody and me. Brody is a natural flirt, reminding me of how easily I’d fallen for him at the start of our relationship. We’d had an agreement, three simple rules:
Rule 1: No children for the next five years.
It was my decision. I knew my mental state wasn’t suitable for motherhood, and I refused to bring a child into this world only to neglect them. We’ll revisit this rule once the timeline has passed.
Rule 2: No cheating. Despite this being an arranged marriage between the Martin and Cornell families, we must respect each other as individual partners.
I think Brody may have forgotten this.
Rule 3: We must be happy and treat each other as friends willing to listen to each other’s problems.
This rule is why I developed such deep feelings for Brody. But now, I realize he might have taken it too literally, seeing me only as a friend and never truly replacing Sonia in his heart.
Reflecting on the situation, when did I first become suspicious of her?
Right! It all started three months ago, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. I was at our kitchen counter, reviewing the monthly bills Joe, Brody’s meticulous executive assistant, had sent.
I’ve always been meticulous about reviewing card expenses, a habit from my university days in London, to avoid overspending-primarily since Brody was covering the costs. A hacking incident during my second year made me even more cautious. I spent weeks dealing with fraudulent charges and promised myself it would never happen again.
That’s when I spotted an unfamiliar secondary card on Brody’s account. The charges were for bags, shoes, and various dining expenses at restaurants and coffee shops. I immediately called Joe to address the issue.
“Joe, I think there’s been a security breach with your boss’s card… There’s an additional card showing purchases I didn’t make. I couldn’t have, but I was in Paris for that fashion week event when these charges were made in London.”
There was a long pause before Joe responded, his usually confident tone now hesitant. “Ms. Jane, I… well, Boss Brody did authorize that card. He, um, added it to your account to keep it separate from company expenses.”
A cold feeling settled in my stomach. “What do you mean, Joe? These are clearly women’s items. Is… is someone else using this card? Is she a woman?”
“Yes, Ms. Jane. I’m afraid so.”
My mind was spinning. Was Brody supporting another woman? The idea made me feel sick. That evening, I confronted him, my hands trembling as I showed him the statement.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .
Brody dismissed my concerns, assuring me he would handle the card payments and insisting there was no romantic involvement with this woman.
What did he mean, ‘nothing romantic’?