I’d been married to Theodore Rockefellow for three years.
Never thought he’d keep a mistress behind my back–turns out the entire household knew, everyone but me.
I became theughingstock of New York society.
When I finally went to confront Theodore’s mistress with a knife in hand, I never expected her to be none other than thewful wife of Captain
Thomas.
And Theodore and Thomas? They’d been inseparable since boyhood.
Summer was nearing, and I was busier than ever running the Rockefellow estate.
I suddenly realized I hadn’t had a proper conversation with Theodore in over two weeks.
So I cleared half a day, set out his favorite wine and dishes, and waited.
Night fell. The food was reheated over and over, but he never came home.
I couldn’t take it anymore–I sent someone to find out.
Word came back: he’d gone to a ball, then spent the night at the host’s mansion.
That wasn’t him. He’d always told me beforehand when he went out.
And never once stayed away overnight.
A chill crept over me. Something had changed, and I didn’t even know when it started.
The next morning, Theodore returned–fresh–faced, carrying a box of almond pastries, my favorite.
He took my hand, apologized sweetly, coaxed me with kind words.
My anger ebbed. I set his favorite crab bisque dumplings before him, smiling.
“Summer’sing, and I’ve been so caught up running the household, I fear I’ve neglected you.”
The clink of silverware was the only reply.
I looked up–Theodore was staring at his dumpling with a vacant smile, lost in thought.
He hadn’t heard a word.
My appetite vanished. I set down my fork, called his name again and again until he finally blinked, startled.
“What is it?” he asked vaguely.
I forced a smile, swallowing the tightness in my chest.
“Nothing at all. Enjoy your supper–I’ve matters to see to on the estate.”
He only murmured in reply.
But my heart sank.
Three years together–of course I knew. His mind was elsewhere.
I felt like a bird lost in a storm, wings beating without direction.
The days blurred with endless tasks.
Atrs. Cornelia, Theodore’s mother, had me arranging trips to St. Patrick’s Cathedral to light candles, refurbishing the west wing, ordering fruit trees for the new country estate, and even buying more koi for the reflecting pool.
One demand after another, until I realized–this wasn’t about chores.
At first, I thought Cornelia was just punishing me. After all, three years of marriage and still no child.
She’d been relentless, urging me and Theodore to try harder, to give the Rockefellows an heir.
Buttely, she wasn’t just needling me–she was keeping me busy. Distracting me.
And Theodore? It had been ten days since Ist saw him.
I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
I sent Grace, my maid, to find out where Theodore had been.
I sat on the fainting couch, absently turning a teacup in my hands. Sunlight glittered over the garden, mocking my unease.
Grace rushed back in. <fn6da7> Read full story at find~novel</fn6da7>
I stumbled toward her, my voice uneven. “Well?”
Her eyes brimmed with pity.
Early mornings,te nights–sometimes noting home at all.
The room spun. My chest tightened, air catching in my throat.
Outside, the day was warm and bright. Inside, I went cold, numb, buzzing with dread.
“Madam!” Grace caught me as I nearly copsed.
I tried tough, to reassure her, but tears fell faster than I could wipe them away.
I should’ve known better. Love neversts.
And yet, when Theodore had pursued me so desperately, I’d let myself believe.
Three years–and the mask had slipped.
Just then, a letter arrived from Mrs. Diana Adams.
Diana–once my dearest friend–had warned me against marrying Theodore.
Afterward, we’d barely spoken.
I tore open the letter.
And with each line, my heart split open.
The taste of betrayal was sharp enough to cut me alive.