Pretending to Be Poor

Ever since summer vacation began, my son had been getting a new toy almost every three days. Whenever I asked where they came from, he said my best friend had bought them. I was about to pick out a thank-you gift when I overheard him talking excitedly into his smartwatch from behind his bedroom door. "Reporting for duty, sir! Mission accomplished. Monster Mom believed me!" I froze, certain I'd misheard. Then he asked for his reward. "Dad, can I come to your third-anniversary celebration with Mama Viv tonight? "I'm so sick of eating canned soup and boxed mac and cheese with Mom every day. I could throw up!" My breath caught. I snatched the watch from his wrist. A photograph had just come through: my husband, who'd supposedly left for another shift at the auto repair shop that morning, was kissing another woman's forehead. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the screen. My heart nearly stopped. My son threw down his toy and, in a panic, started scolding me. "Mom! Why are you spying on my private conversations? Mama Viv is picking me up to go have fun later. Don't ruin it for us!" Then he pressed himself against the window, waiting excitedly for her. I stood there, numb, staring at the apology my husband had sent barely a minute earlier. "I'm sorry, honey. You've both had to struggle because of me for so many years. I'll take you out for a nice dinner tonight." Tears blurred the words. It felt as though something had tightened around my heart and refused to let go. But I didn't scream or demand answers. Instead, when the car came to collect my son, I climbed in after him. Chapter 1 The moment we stepped out of the car, my son raced toward the brightly lit yacht, where laughter and music floated across the harbor. "Dad!" Every conversation on deck stopped. The silence was so sudden it almost hurt. Graham Langford, immaculate in a bespoke suit, instinctively let go of the woman on his arm. "Audrey?" He stared at me. "What are you doing here?" Ignoring the whispers erupting around us, he hurried over and caught my hand. His fingers were trembling. "Audrey, don't jump to conclusions. This isn't what you think." My eyes burned. Somehow, I managed a smile. "Then tell me what it is, Graham. Who is she? And what exactly are you celebrating your third anniversary of?" My gaze slid to the other woman. Emeralds gleamed at her throat, and gold glittered from her wrists. Suddenly, the gold-plated jewelry I was wearing felt like a cruel joke. When I'd married Graham five years ago, he supposedly had nothing. To keep my parents from worrying, I'd secretly bought a cheap gold-plated wedding set and worn it ever since. He'd held me, his eyes wet, and promised, "Give me three years. I'll replace every piece with solid gold." I'd treasured that promise. Now I knew the real gold had been meant for another woman all along. "Dragging your kid into Graham's anniversary party?" a familiar voice sneered. "It's obvious you're trying to worm your way into a rich family." I turned. Sabrina Holt. My best friend of ten years. Each time my son came home with expensive gifts, he'd used Sabrina as his excuse. I'd trusted her so completely that I'd never once checked. And she'd spent that trust helping him deceive me. "Know your place," another woman snapped. "We've seen plenty of gold diggers like you." This time it was Graham's sister, Isabel. For five years, she'd sweetly called me her sister-in-law every time we met and told me I was like a real sister to her. "Exactly!" my son chirped. "Mom is so annoying. She just had to follow me here." Hearing my son say that felt like having acid poured down my throat. It burned all the way down. I'd nearly bled to death giving birth to Oliver. Even in the operating room, I'd fought to make sure the doctors saved my baby before me. Now he clung to another woman as though I were his enemy. I looked around the deck. Our neighbors were here. Coworkers. Graham's closest friends. All of them had known Graham was the heir to the Langford fortune. All of them except me. Graham frowned, guilt flashing through his eyes. "Audrey, making a scene won't help anyone. Go home. I'll explain everything privately. Don't embarrass yourself." Embarrass myself? I stared at him, refusing to look away, and let out a bitter laugh. "Is that what bothers you, Graham? That I'm embarrassing you?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, but before he could answer, Vivienne Prescott, holding my son in her arms, gave a soft laugh. "Miss Bellamy, plenty of women want to be my husband's mistress. But you're the first who's tried to use a child to claim a place in his family." My nails dug into my palms. I'd spent five years sharing a tiny rental apartment with Graham. I'd given up my career three years ago to raise our son. And she was calling me a gold digger? Still, I didn't leave. I kept watching Graham, begging him silently to say just one thing in my defense. Instead, he took my arm and pushed me toward the gangway. "There are reporters over there. I'm doing this for your own good, Audrey. Be a good girl and leave." Tears flooded my eyes. I squeezed them shut, then reached for Oliver. He shrieked and clawed at my arm. "No! I'm not going with you! You're Dad's mistress!" Chapter 2 Oliver's nails had torn my arm open. Blood ran down to my wrist. People around us immediately began murmuring that I must have been abusing him. I stared at my own child. For the first time in my life, he felt like a stranger. "Oliver Langford. You have two choices. You can stay with them, or you can come with me." I spoke in the stern voice that usually made him listen. This time, he wasn't frightened at all. "I'm staying with Dad and Mama Viv!" The answer went through me like a thousand needles. I stood rooted to the spot as five years of memories came flooding back. Oliver coming home from playdates with Sabrina carrying luxury toys. Graham returning from the repair shop in an expensive-looking suit. Father and son exchanging knowing remarks in German so I wouldn't understand. Every detail I'd once found strange finally made sense. I wiped my face, turned, and forced myself to walk away with my back straight. After leaving the yacht, I sent a message to the person I'd been putting off contacting. "I'm leaving him. Please help me transfer to Port Everly." Graham, did you really think our son could keep me chained to you forever? The first thing I did when I got home was dig out our marriage certificate. The certificate itself had an odd purplish tint, and the county seal was blurry and almost unreadable. I'd been so hopelessly in love that I hadn't noticed anything wrong. Now my hands trembled as I tore the fake certificate to pieces and dropped them in the trash. On the bedside table, our wedding photograph showed two people smiling as though they had the whole world. Now it felt like a mockery. When Graham first proposed, my parents had objected to his job as a mechanic. They were terrified I'd spend my life struggling. They'd even locked me in the house and told Graham he had one week to come up with $30,000 to prove he could support a family. He was supposedly an orphan, a man who'd never had much kindness in his life. How could he possibly find that kind of money? Yet he'd kissed me and smiled. "Don't worry. I'll figure something out." Seven days later, he handed my parents the money. I had almost burst into tears. I clung to him, shaking, unable to imagine how many cars he'd repaired or sleepless nights he'd endured to earn it. And all that time, he probably hadn't worried about the money at all. I pulled down our photograph, grabbed a hammer, and smashed the frame until glass covered the floor. I laughed and cried like someone I no longer recognized. My phone rang. Graham. When I answered the video call, Oliver grinned into the camera. "Mom! You know getting angry turns you into an old witch, right? Dad and I will be home soon!" He scampered away without ending the call. The camera swung toward the deck. Guests cheered as Graham kissed Vivienne, long and tenderly, beneath a sky exploding with fireworks. A fleet of drones spelled out, "Vivienne, I love you." There were water shows, music, and one elaborate surprise after another. The three of them looked like a perfect little family. Their happiness was blinding. I knew how much a celebration like that must have cost. Money and love in quantities I'd never received. Just thinking about it made my chest tight. For years, I'd wanted a home in a better school district for Oliver. I'd finally saved enough for a down payment when Graham claimed he'd botched the brakes on a wealthy client's car. The man had crashed and threatened to have him prosecuted. For days, I'd shown up on that family's doorstep, begging the man's wife and children not to ruin Graham's life. Eventually, the legal complaint disappeared. So did every dollar of our down payment. When Graham came home from the police station, I'd swallowed my humiliation and said nothing. Now I knew that all along, my pride had been something he trampled on so he could keep pretending to be poor. At five the next morning, Graham returned with our delighted son. Oliver took one look at the wrecked bedroom and giggled. "The old witch threw a tantrum!" Graham shot him a warning look and slipped an arm around my waist. "Honey, are you really that upset? You even smashed our wedding picture. Are you trying to cut ties with me? What, are you going to divorce me?" I looked up and slapped him. "You know perfectly well we were never married! "Our marriage certificate was fake. Everything was fake. Is there anything you haven't lied about?" He went still. But instead of getting angry, he just looked at me, exasperated. "Audrey, Vivienne and I are only together because of an arrangement. We each get something out of it. That's how marriages between wealthy families work. "I don't have feelings for her. Not real ones." Really? He'd never saved any of those real feelings for me, either. "Then keep them, Graham. I don't want your love anymore." I started toward the bedroom. He seized my wrist, and his voice dropped dangerously low. "Audrey. You know I can't stand hearing you talk like that." "Vivienne is generous enough to overlook my relationship with you. But if you're going to stay in my life, there's one condition. Vivienne gets custody of Oliver, and she raises him." He added, almost casually, "Don't worry. I've already taken care of the paperwork." I stared at him, unable to speak. For five years, I'd believed he had a lung condition that needed expensive annual checkups and treatment. Nearly half our income supposedly disappeared into medical bills. Oliver needed schooling, too. I'd cut every possible expense and taken whatever side jobs I could find. I hadn't bought myself new clothes or makeup in five years. And even then, I'd felt guilty that I couldn't give Oliver more. No matter how furious I was with my son, he was still my child. I gave a cold laugh and shook my head. "Absolutely n—" Oliver burst into applause. "Yay! I get to hang out with Mama Viv again!" My blood went cold. Chapter 3 Graham leaned down and kissed my forehead as gently as if nothing had happened. "I still have three years left on my agreement with the Prescotts, Audrey. Just wait a little longer." I looked at him and Oliver, at how little either of them seemed to care. Then I stepped back. "Graham, I want a clean break. You can keep Oliver." His face darkened. "Audrey, you want to end this? And you're giving me our son? You think you can just walk away from him? Have you forgotten what you went through to bring him into the world?" Oliver gave an impatient sigh. "Mom, you're being dumb. You don't make any money, and you're turning down a mansion? When Mama Viv and I are eating fancy seafood, don't get jealous!" He stuck out his tongue and ran away. I watched him go, remembering all the summers I'd gone down to the shore to gather fresh seafood for him. By the time I came home, my legs and feet would be covered in cuts. Graham and Oliver used to help me wash them, both close to tears. "Mommy, don't do that anymore," Oliver would say. "I don't need seafood. I don't want you to get hurt." My voice came out rough. "I'm serious." Graham sprang to his feet. He pulled three black credit cards from his jacket and threw them at me. Then he looked down his nose at me. "This is about money, isn't it? That's what all this is about." For a second I was too stunned to move. Then rage swept through me. "Fine! I'm greedy! I'm a gold digger! Is that what you wanted to hear?" I scooped up the cards and slammed the door behind me. By morning, I'd blocked the number Graham had called from all night and booked the earliest flight to Port Everly. I was leaving that evening. I came home to gather my ID and documents and pack. Just as I was about to leave, a video arrived on my phone. Graham and Vivienne, tangled together in bed. My head rang. Then I opened the accompanying voice message. "Audrey," Vivienne said smugly, "take a good look at the date. Familiar?" June. Three years ago. Graham had supposedly been away repairing cars for an entire month. And I had just discovered I was pregnant. "So you remember," Vivienne continued. "Here's something else. That drunk who accidentally knocked you down back then? He was my brother." Whatever was left of my composure burned away. I saw red, and my whole body shook with rage. I'd been coming home from a prenatal appointment, excited to tell Graham the baby was healthy, when a drunken man stumbled out of a private club in Halvern City and harassed me. I'd tried to fight him off. He pushed me to the pavement. I lost the baby afterward. Graham had been furious when he heard. He'd claimed he'd beaten the man nearly senseless and even shown me footage supposedly proving the attacker was behind bars. Another lie. All of it. "What do you want from me?" I demanded, barely able to draw breath. Another video appeared. "Ollie, do you like mango?" Vivienne asked from behind the camera. She was holding my son on her lap. Then I saw the fruit in her hand. "Stop!" I shouted at the screen. "He's allergic to mango!" "Then come over to my house," she replied sweetly. The threat was unmistakable. I called the police and alerted reporters, explaining that Vivienne had threatened my child with something that could cause a life-threatening allergic reaction. I begged them to come with me and protect him. But when we reached the Prescott mansion, Sabrina and several of our friends rushed forward, indignant. "Stop pretending, Audrey! You're just jealous of Vivienne!" "She treats your son like her own, and you're threatening her anyway?" "Officers, you've got it wrong. Audrey has been obsessed with marrying into a rich family. Vivienne is the victim here!" I bit out every word. "If she's innocent, give me my son." The door swung open. Graham stepped into the room, his expression dark. I forgot my hatred long enough to grab his sleeve. "Graham! Oliver had mango! Please, take him to the hospital!" He stared at me, unmoved. "Audrey, haven't you caused enough trouble?" I could only look at him. "You think I'm making this up? You think I'd lie about our son's allergy?" I was holding myself together by a thread. Vivienne's eyes filled with tears. "Graham, you don't believe her over me, do you?" He glanced at me, then drew Vivienne into his arms. "Vivienne wouldn't hurt anyone. Apologize to her, Audrey." I fought to swallow my tears. "No way! Not until you give me my so—" "If you don't apologize, then even if Oliver really is having a reaction, I won't take him anywhere," he interrupted. "Decide what's more important to you: your pride or your son's life." I stared numbly at the man in front of me, so blatantly on her side, and felt as if someone had carved a piece out of my heart. When I'd almost died giving birth to Oliver, I'd insisted the doctors save our baby. Graham had nearly lost his mind. Even through the operating room doors, I'd heard him sobbing. "Audrey, I don't want the baby! I just want you!" And now he was using that same child to blackmail me. Numbly, I turned to face the sea of reporters crowded outside and apologized for everyone to hear. "I'm sorry. I was jealous, so I deliberately spread false accusations about Ms. Prescott to attract attention." Something struck my forehead with a sharp crack. A thrown soda can. Chapter 4 Blood trickled down my forehead. Then came bottles of water, cans, and anything else the crowd could throw. "You lied to us, Audrey! We already published stories based on what you told us!" I didn't dare move. I stood bent over, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached, stripped of every last shred of dignity. I couldn't have said how long it took for the reporters to disperse. My phone buzzed again. "Audrey, this scandal has damaged the firm's reputation," a former coworker wrote. "The board is demanding compensation. They've brought your parents in." The news made the ground tilt beneath my feet. I fumbled for my parents' number, but before I could finish dialing, a taxi stopped outside the Prescott mansion. Mom and Dad hurried out. "Audrey! What on earth is going on?" My stomach churned. "Mom, Dad, please go home. Everything's fine." Vivienne appeared behind me. "Audrey, why did you tell your parents Oliver had collapsed from an allergic reaction?" My parents went pale. "Oliver's sick? Where is he?" Vivienne sighed with theatrical pity. "You don't know? Your daughter's been sleeping with my husband, and now she's after my money. She's even using her own so—" "Shut your mouth!" I snapped. But Mom was so upset that her blood pressure spiked. Before I could catch her, she collapsed. It took half an hour to get her admitted to the hospital and settled. Then a message from Vivienne appeared. "Third floor. Your son is here." I raced up to the third floor. Oliver was lying weakly on the floor of his hospital room. "Ollie!" "Mommy... I feel awful..." The sound of his voice ripped through me. I turned and slapped Vivienne across the face. She didn't even try to dodge. A terrible feeling seized me. A moment later, Graham came charging in. "Audrey!" My hand was still trembling in the air. Sabrina and the others crowded in behind him, instantly rushing to Vivienne's defense. "Audrey, haven't you done enough? Vivienne agreed to raise your boy, and now you're attacking her?" "You really are a gold digger! All you care about is money!" I ignored them and seized Graham's arm. "Oliver's in there! Help him!" "I will," he said. Relief barely had time to reach me before he cupped Vivienne's cheek. "After you make Vivienne feel better." She blushed. "Oh, Graham. You're too much." Then she turned to me, all sweetness. "I'm sure you didn't mean it, Audrey. But even my parents have never slapped me, so you can make it up to me by cleaning my shoes." I looked from Graham to the room where my son lay. Then I gritted my teeth, dropped to my knees, and used my sleeve to polish Vivienne's heels. Without warning, the point of her stiletto came down on my right hand. I gasped. She smiled. "A little faster, Audrey." Her weight shifted, grinding the heel against my fingers again and again. Pain shot through my hand and up my arm. "It hurts," I choked out. Vivienne lifted her foot in exaggerated surprise. "What hurts? Audrey, don't tell me you're accusing me of stepping on you." Disgust flashed across Graham's face. "Stop acting, Audrey. You were willing to use Oliver to compete for attention. What are you complaining about now?" He turned to Vivienne. "Come on. Let's get that cheek checked." They left together. I started toward Oliver's hospital room, but Sabrina suddenly unclipped the leash from her dog. My breath caught. That dog had always been vicious toward me. Every time I visited her house, it lunged as though it wanted to tear me apart. I stumbled backward, but I wasn't fast enough. Its teeth closed around my injured hand. I fell, curling around the pain as I screamed for help. "Someone, please! Help me!" Graham paused down the hallway. Then he kept walking. Just as I thought I couldn't bear another second, a child's delighted laughter rang out. Oliver wasn't lying helplessly on the floor anymore. He was on his feet, bouncing with excitement. "That was fun! Tricking Mom is the best game ever!" Tricking me? I stared at him. The terrible truth settled slowly into place. My son, the boy I'd always been so proud of, had been acting alongside Vivienne the entire time. I laughed. Tears fell beside the blood on the floor. Before darkness swallowed my vision, I saw someone familiar running toward me. Two hours later, Graham was carrying Vivienne downstairs when something by the stairwell caught his eye. A small, bloodstained severed finger. He stopped dead.