Six Years Of Afternoon Tea Bought Me The Truth About My Husband Chapter 02

Six Years Of Afternoon Tea Bought Me The Truth About My Husband Chapter 02

I laughed, too. “I ask where you went, and that’s considered checking up on you?”

Andres sat on the sofa, rubbing his temple. “I’ve been exhausted lately, Stevie. Don’t start looking for trouble.”

He had been using that line for ten years.

Back when we first got married, his startup failed, leaving us with a mountain of debt.

He was exhausted, and I understood.

Later, the company bounced back, and he was busy entertaining clients.

He was tired. I made allowances for that.

Then, young women started appearing around him, and he claimed I was being sensitive.

I endured it.

I endured it until today, when Callie’s single sentence ripped away the respectability I had suffered so long to maintain.

“Is Norah pregnant?” I asked.

Andres’s hand froze.

He looked up at me. “Who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

His face darkened, demanding, “Are you tracking me?”

“Answer me.”

He stood up, loosening his tie. “So what if she’s pregnant? A company employee gets pregnant, and I accompany her to the hospital out of concern for my staff.”

I almost laughed out loud.

Caring about his staff to the point of going with her to prenatal checkups.

What a charitable boss he was.

“Do you accompany every pregnant female employee to prenatal checkups?”

“Stevie Vance!” He called me by my full name. “Watch your mouth.”

I looked at him, replying, “Then don’t give me something ugly to talk about.”

The slight guilt on his face vanished instantly. It was replaced by sheer impatience.

“I don’t want to fight. It’s my mother’s birthday next week. Get it ready. Don’t give anyone outside a reason to talk.”

With that, he walked upstairs.

I sat in the living room, staring at that strand of hair for a very long time.

Then I pulled out my phone and texted Callie: [Next time there’s anything in your husband’s car, don’t touch it. Take a photo and send it to me.]

She replied quickly: [I got it, Mrs. Moreau.]

The next day, Andres’s mother Lainey Moreau called.

She opened with, “Stevie, Andres said you’re handling my birthday. Find a more upscale hotel. Don’t be so tacky again.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Also, save two seats for me at the main table.”

“For whom?”

She paused for a moment, answering, “Friends of Andres.”

I gripped my phone, my knuckles tightening. “Norah?”

The other end went silent.

After a few seconds, she sneered, “So you know?”

I didn’t say anything.

She simply stopped pretending. “It’s just as well that you know. She’s carrying a Moreau child in her belly, so lose the attitude.”

I asked in a low voice, “You knew Andres was cheating on our marriage?”

“Since when does a man stepping out a bit count as cheating? You’ve been married to him for ten years and still haven’t given him a child. You expect the Moreaus to just have no heirs?”

I laughed. “Have you forgotten whose fault it is that I don’t have children?”

Lainey’s voice instantly spiked, yelling, “Don’t bring up those medical exams with me! Andres has a child on the way now, which proves there’s nothing wrong with him. Don’t just sit there occupying the spot and contributing nothing.”

I moved the phone a bit further from my ear.

Her insults flowed effortlessly.

After venting, she added, “Be gracious at the birthday banquet. Don’t make a scene. If you play your cards right, when the child is born, you might still get called ‘Mom.'”

I hung up the phone.

Mrs. Bell had overheard from nearby, her expression deeply awkward.

“Cook the food as usual, don’t put ginger in the soup,” I said. “Andres doesn’t eat ginger.”

“I know.”

I had remembered that for him for ten years.

Starting today, I wouldn’t anymore.