WIFE VS MISTRESS

Alexia

I glance at the clock. 10:45 AM.

Shit.

I grab my phone, my heart sinking.

Today was my last job interview. My last chance at finding independence.

And now, it's gone.

Because of Brandon.

Because he made sure no company in this city would dare hire me.

My hands tighten into fists.

Fine. If no one will hire me, I'll find another way.

I grab my keys, throw on a blazer over my casual clothes, and storm toward the front door.

But the moment I reach for the handle, I feel it.

Locked.

I stare at the deadbolt, my chest tightening.

He locked me in.

Like a fucking prisoner.

My breathing quickens, and I spin around, rage bubbling under my skin.

That son of a bitch.

A door creaks open behind me, and I turn just in time to see Sofia walking out of the kitchen, concern in her eyes.

"Alexia?"

I swallow hard. Stay calm.

"He locked me in again, didn't he?" My voice is sharper than I intended.

Sofia sighs, rubbing her hands together. "You know how he is, querida."

That's not a good enough excuse.

"Sofia, I am not his pet. He can't just—lock me inside like a damn criminal."

She gives me a sad smile. Like she's heard this argument before.

"Would you like me to call him?" she offers.

I laugh bitterly. "Oh yeah, I'm sure that'll go great. 'Hi, Brandon, mind unlocking the door so your wife can leave you?'"

Sofia doesn't laugh.

Because we both know he won't let me go.

She hesitates before stepping forward, lowering her voice. "Listen to me, niña. Whatever war you're planning with him—be careful."

I frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sofia hesitates. Then, barely above a whisper—

"Even the devil was an angel once, Alexia."

She pats my shoulder, then walks away.

Her words settle deep into my chest, heavy and suffocating.

Because I know she's right.

I've seen both sides of Brandon Garcia.

And somehow, I turned the angel into the devil.

After Sofia convinces one of the security guards to unlock the door for me, I drive aimlessly for hours, my mind a mess.

At some point, I find myself at one of the most exclusive malls in the city.

I don't know why I'm here. Maybe to pretend for a little while that I have control over my life.

Maybe to remind myself that I'm still a person, not just Brandon's trapped wife.

Or maybe I just need a distraction.

I step into one of the boutiques, running my fingers over expensive fabrics, barely paying attention.

And then—I hear it.

A laugh.

Sharp. Annoying. Familiar.

My body goes stiff.

No. Fucking. Way.

I turn slowly, and there she is.

Chloe Harper.

Daughter of Grey Harper, billionaire tycoon. Owner of a successful clothing line.

And, of course…

The woman everyone thought Brandon should have married.

The woman who makes my life a living hell.

She's with a group of her friends, laughing too loudly, as if she's trying to get attention.

And then, as if the universe really wants to screw me over today—

Her gaze locks onto mine.

Her lips curve into a slow, cat-like smirk.

"Alexia?" she says, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Is that really you?"

God help me.

Chloe stalks toward me, her designer heels clicking against the floor like she's walking a damn runway.

Her friends trail behind her, their perfectly styled hair and designer dresses looking straight out of a magazine.

I hate how they all look at me like I don't belong.

Like I'm the outsider in my own marriage.

"I thought I was hallucinating!" she exclaims, placing a hand over her chest like she actually gives a damn.

"How have you been since the last time we saw each other? I hope things are okay with Brandon and you."

Ah. There it is.

She wants a scene. She wants to humiliate me in public.

Oh honey. If you want a game, let's play.

I tilt my head, giving her my sweetest, fakest smile.

"Oh, you mean since the last time I caught you in bed with my husband?"

Her smirk falters.

Just for a second.

But I catch it. And I enjoy it.

Her friends gasp dramatically, whispering behind their hands.

Chloe recovers quickly, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. Are you really still mad about that?" She sighs. "You do know Brandon and I go way back. Sparks were bound to fly eventually."

I arch a brow. "Are you proud of being a mistress, Chloe? Or is that just something you're used to?"

Her jaw clenches.

Good. I hit a nerve.

"Brandon doesn't even want you!" she sneers. "He's only with you because of revenge. Sooner or later, he'll leave your pathetic, sorry ass."

I laugh. Dark. Unbothered. Deadly.

"Maybe. But at least he had a reason to marry me." I tilt my head. "What's yours?"

For the first time, she has no answer.

She opens her mouth, but I don't let her speak.

"Face it, Chloe." My voice drops. Sharp. Cold. Final.

"Brandon is mine. Until further notice."

And with that, I brush past her, leaving her speechless.