Page 34 of Unfaithful

During the day, Archie had to go to his office to tie up the last of his final assignment. But in the evenings, he stayed with me, speaking more than he ever had in all the years I'd knownhim. He filled the quiet with stories, grounding me with his words as if trying to keep me from slipping too far into my own thoughts.

And I let him. Because it was easier than thinking about everything else.

Archie worked for Herston, who owned Frontline Media Group (FMG), one of the most respected news agencies in the country. FMG tackled the hard stuff—politics, global conflicts, environmental crises—providing reports and analyses to major news networks. You wouldn't guess it just by looking at Herston, though. Humble and easygoing, he never flaunted his influence. But in the media world, his name carried weight. He used to be a famous journalist.

His two sons, Archie and Julian, were also journalists but the fearless kind. Archie covered wars and conflicts, while Julian focused on the environment, taking him to some of the most dangerous places on Earth—volcanic zones, Arctic regions, remote jungles, even the deepest seas.

I couldn't imagine how Janet managed it. If they were my children, I would die with worry every time they left home.

I had become too comfortable here, living with them. I loved their house, beautiful yet not too extravagant, a quiet contrast to the wealth they could easily display. The view from the cliff overlooking the city was simply breathtaking.

Still, no matter how comfortable I felt here, I couldn't shake the ache of missing my home. I knew I couldn't stay for too long. I didn't want to keep imposing on them.

And I truly missed my home.

It was the home I grew up in, the place that held my history. And, in a way, it was what led me to Cole.

I was twenty-four, living alone in a place far too big and too expensive to maintain. My parents had died in an accident a couple of years earlier, leaving me with the house—and a crushing debt, but not a cent of inheritance to ease the burden.

The last years of college were a blur of studying and working. I juggled two jobs after classes just to afford to keep the house. The maintenance, utilities, and especially the taxes were overwhelming for a historic house like mine—and that wasn't even counting the debt I still had to pay.

Even after graduating, I kept working two, sometimes three, jobs. No matter how many offers came my way, I refused to sell. Being a historic house, it would have been easy to find a buyer, but that never mattered to me. This wasn't just a place to live—it was my family home, the place where I grew up. I was determined to hold on to it, to one day pass it down to my children.

Then Cole came to me and gave me an offer.

I refused.

But he kept coming back.

Cole was relentless, undeterred by my refusals. He took this project—me—very seriously.

He lured me in with his charm, taking me to lunches and dinners, picking me up from work, and even offering me a job. From the very beginning, he never hid the fact that he wanted my house; he was upfront about his intentions. But he was so charming, so persuasive, that I let him.

I let him charm me.

In the end, he succeeded. It took him a year. By that point, I was too exhausted to keep fighting. I had been working myself to the bone.

He bought the house from me but let me stay, giving me time until he found the right buyer. Somewhere along the way, we started our relationship. A year later, he moved in with me.

And when we got married, he did something I never expected.

He gave me my house back, putting it in my name.

It was his wedding gift to me, along with a full interior remodel—something I later found out had cost him hundreds of thousands.

I had been with Cole for six years. Three of them as his wife.

He was once my savior, but now he was my downfall.

We had a happy marriage. That's why his betrayal was so impossible for me to believe. It made me blind to all the lies surrounding me.

Stupid. I was so fucking stupid.

Cole's job required him to travel and be out of the office often. I just never imagined he would use that time to cheat on me, let alone with Elsa.

Elsa, who was known for being difficult to work with—arrogant and a complete snob. Devious, manipulative little whore.

I knew I needed to get back to work. I'd been avoiding it for a week, especially with my phone off. The thought of checking it—of seeing if Cole had sent me anything—made my stomach turn.

---