He Realized Too Late I Was His Secret Backer

After the miscarriage, I started seeing ghosts in everything.

Every day I'd text Roy Weiss to ask whether he loved me.

The first ninety-nine times, he answered gently.

It was the hundredth time that he snapped back at me, three messages, one after another.

*Tamara Winfield, do you have nothing better to do?*

*The baby's gone, you don't have to suffer through it anymore, so now you've decided to torture me instead?*

*Instead of dreaming up nonsense, go look in a mirror. Look at that dead, ghastly face of yours.*

I froze.

A second later, the messages were recalled, and a voice note popped up in their place.

"Sorry, my assistant sent those by mistake. Don't take it to heart."

Whether it was a mistake didn't matter anymore.

All I knew was that our marriage was over.

I checked myself out, swallowing the ache low in my belly.

I didn't rush home. I went to the law firm first and picked up the divorce papers.

By the time I got back, the sky had gone fully dark.

The living room light was on, and Roy was sitting on the couch.

He looked up at the sound of the door, frowning.

"I went to the hospital and the doctor said you'd checked out. Where did you go? You couldn't even answer a text or a call?"

"You just had a miscarriage. Don't you know your body's weak and needs rest? And you're out running around."

I didn't answer.

I changed into my slippers and poured myself a glass of water.

He watched me, his gaze resting on my face for a few seconds, before he finally spoke.

"I already explained about this afternoon. My assistant grabbed the wrong phone."

"She's apologized to me, and I gave her an earful too. I promise nothing like that will happen again."

An assistant, grabbing her boss's personal phone by mistake?

I let out a soft laugh, set down the glass, and looked at him.

Roy was very good-looking.

I knew that from the first moment I saw him.

At thirty-three, he was better than most men his age, and even now, lounging on the couch in loungewear, he looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine.

I used to love watching him. I thought I could look at him a lifetime and never tire of it.

But today I suddenly realized his beauty had nothing to do with me.

Like a beautiful dress in a shop window. You stand there staring through the glass for the longest time, thinking it's yours, when you've never once actually held it in your hands.

"Roy," I said. My voice came out calmer than I'd expected. "That assistant of yours, what was her name again?"

He paused.

"Christine. Why?"

"How long has she been with you?"

"About six months." Then he added, "Why are you asking? I told you it was a misunderstanding. Do you have to keep picking at it? Can't you just pretend you never saw it?"

Four questions in a row.

I didn't take up any of them and kept going. "I remember when she first started, you mentioned her to me once. You said the new assistant was useless, nothing like the sharp, efficient type you usually liked. After that you never brought her up again. I assumed you'd let her go."

"Turns out you didn't let her go at all. And since she showed up, I've noticed that over these past six months you've been working later and later, traveling more and more."

Roy's brow furrowed again.

"Tamara, what exactly are you trying to say?"

I smiled a little. "I'm only stating facts."

His frown deepened, his tone slipping into impatience. "Tamara, I understand you're emotional because of the miscarriage, and I can be understanding about that. But you can't start imagining things over a few messages sent by accident. It's not good for you, and it's not good for trying for the next baby either."

The baby.

Those words went into my heart like a fine needle, finding the exact spot.

How long had I been married to him?

Four years, I think.

At twenty-two, I'd slipped back home from overseas to have some fun. At a friend's party I fell for Roy Weiss the moment I saw him, and I went after him.

At first he thought I was too young.

So I chased him without any shame, laying my whole heart out in front of him. Flowers. Jewelry. I was the one who proposed.

People laughed at me, said a girl shouldn't throw herself at a man like that.

It never bothered me. When you love someone, isn't that exactly the kind of brave you're supposed to be?

In the end, we were together.

We dated a year, then married.

Four years of marriage, and every single day, I was the one giving, carefully, always carefully.

He'd give a little back now and then, and I'd feel like the whole sky had brightened.

It wasn't until I got pregnant that I noticed him turning happy, even answering me more than he usually did.

Then the accident came out of nowhere.

I fell down the stairs and lost the baby.

Four months along, and just like that, gone.

Roy didn't say anything.

But I knew he was in a dark mood.

He spoke even less than he had before the pregnancy.

A fear started growing in me.

The fear that he would cheat.

That's why I kept clinging to him, asking over and over whether he loved me.

He never said the word love, but he'd answer gently enough: I'll come home early.

Until this time, when the private phone I wasn't even allowed to touch ended up in someone else's hands, sending all those messages.

That was when I finally understood.

From the very beginning, he had never held me in his heart at all.

Still, it was fine. It was over.

I didn't have it in me to love him anymore.

Seeing me stay quiet for so long, he must have thought I'd given in. He came over and bent down to put his arms around me.

"That's enough, stop overthinking it. I had the housekeeper make you some soup. Have a little and get some rest. Tomorrow's the weekend, I'll take you out somewhere"

"Roy. Let's get a divorce."

I said it softly.

But his whole body went rigid.

His arms stayed where they were, frozen mid-reach to hold me.

The living room was so quiet I could hear the clock on the wall ticking off the seconds.

One. Two. Three.

Then he straightened up, looked down at me, and laughed.

"What did you say?"

I lifted my head, met his eyes, and said it word by word:

"I said, let's get a divorce."

"I'm so tired."

Loving you. It's really exhausting.

Roy scoffed.

"Is this a joke to you?"

I kept the curve on my lips. "No."

"Tamara." He said my name, his voice going cold. "Over three messages that were sent by mistake, you want to divorce me?"

I kept the curve on my lips. "Yes."

He laughed, furious now.

"I already told you it was a mistake! Do you not understand plain words? And you love me so muchyou'd really go through with leaving me?"

I gave a light laugh. "You think it was a mistake. I don't. As for loving youI don't anymore."

Roy went still for a beat, then sneered. "You're really going to act out over this?"

"I'm not acting out."

I looked up at him. "Roy, I mean it. Let's divorce. It's better for you, and for me."

He clenched his fists and said nothing.

Just when I thought he was about to fall into that cold silence again, his hand shot out and gripped my chin, fire in his eyes.

"Tamara! What is it you actually want? I already told you I didn't send those lineswhy won't you believe me!"

"You kept asking whether I loved you, didn't you? Fine, I'm telling you nowI love you. There, are you happy!"

"If you don't feel secure, we can do it right now. We can keep going until you feel secure. Will that do?"

Then he bent his head and bit down on my lip.

One year of dating, four years of marriage, and he had never once kissed me first.

Even in our most intimate moments, I was always the one who reached for him.

There was a time I dreamed of him taking the lead, just once.

Now it only made me sick.

I bit him back, hard.

He flinched at the pain and shoved me away.

I lifted my head, my eyes red, glaring at him. "If you want it so badly, go find someone else! That little assistant of yours can't wait to do it with you."

Roy froze. "What did you say?"

My voice tore out of me, eyes burning. "I said, if you want it, go find another woman to do it with! Stop making me sick."

"Roy Weiss, the man you are right now, you truly, truly disgust me!"

He stared at me as if he meant to pin me through.

Three seconds later, he laughed.

"Fine! Since you're so generous, I'll give you exactly what you want."

"Don't regret it. And don't come crying to me, begging."

The door slammed.

Silence.

I looked at the closed door, the tears falling without a sound, until I was sobbing out loud.

As if I could cry out all the years of swallowed hurt at once.

Roy Weiss, this time I won't regret it.

And I won't beg you, won't humble myself ever again.

I wiped my eyes and made a call.

"Brother, the money we put into Roy's company. Pull it."

Roy didn't come home all night.

It was the weekend; he had no work.

And I had no idea where to find him to sign the divorce papers.

Then a video popped up on my phone.

Right after it, my best friend's voice exploded through the speaker.

"Tammy! Isn't that your untouchable, sky-high husband?"

"I was out shopping at the Lumire One and there he was with some woman! He actually crouched down to tie her shoelaces for her!"

"You just had a miscarriage and he's already out hunting for fresh meat? Does that bastard have any shame left? God, I'm going to kill the both of them!"

I opened the video.

There he was. The man who always stood so far above me, crouching down with a helpless little smile because the girl beside him had coaxed him with a few sweet words, tying her shoe.

She laughed and filmed him on her phone, and he wore that same helpless smile.

My chest still ached, no matter how I tried to stop it.

It wasn't that I'd never wanted that from him.

Back then he was always the same, untouchable and above it all.

He never refused me and never did it either.

He just left me standing there, awkward, scrambling to save face on my own.

I curled my lip and texted my friend back.

"We're getting divorced."

The message had barely gone through when a call came in from an unknown number.

"Is this Ms. Winfield? Your husband got into a fight with a friend. Please come down to the police station as soon as you can."

My friend had a temper, but I never expected her to move this fast.

I flagged down a cab and hurried over.

I'd just reached the door when I heard the shouting still going on inside.

"Roy Weiss! How can you face Tamara? She just lost the baby and you couldn't even wait before sneaking around! And you had the nerve to walk around in public with your mistress, tying her shoes for her! Why don't you just drop dead?"

"Our Tammy was so good to you, loved you so"

"That was her doing, wasn't it?" Roy cut her off, his face cold.

I went rigid where I stood.

His voice kept going. "Did I ask her to be good to me? Did I ask her to love me? Wasn't it her own doing from the start, throwing herself at me, climbing into my bed? One crook of my finger and she married me. So what does any of her kindness have to do with me? I don't love her. Why should I owe her anything back? And just because she got pregnant, I'm supposed to stay chained to her forever?"

Sabrina was livid. If the officer hadn't been holding her back, she'd already have lunged at him.

"Roy Weiss! Do you have a shred of conscience left? If it weren't for Tammy back then, you'd have been behind bars long ago"

"Sabrina, stop." I cut her off and stepped inside, looking at the officer.

"I'm taking her home."

Before the officer could answer, Roy's voice dropped low. "She hits my people and just walks out?"

I looked at the woman pressed against him, red-eyed, hand over her cheek, and then at him.

"So what do you want?"

His face was cold.

"Your friend slapped my woman. Now I want it back."

Sabrina laughed like she'd heard a joke.

"Let her hit me. You really think"

"Who said I wanted it back from you?"

Roy cut her off, his eyes settling on my face.

"Tamara, your friend made the mistake for your sake. The bill's yours to settle, isn't it?"

"You son of a"

Sabrina was shaking with rage, ready to fly at the two of them.

The next second, I spoke.

"Fine."

Sabrina's head whipped around. "Tamara, are you insane? He's the one who cheated. He's the one who wronged you!"

I ignored her and walked up to Roy and Christine McDaniel.

"Go on, then."

Christine's eyes reddened. She said softly, "Mr. Weiss, don't put your wife through this, I"

The crack of it landed across my face before she could finish. Roy had grabbed her hand and swung it hard into my cheek.

The sting bloomed instantly, hot and raw.

When it was done, I turned to leave.

"Did I say you could go?"

His voice was cold as ice. "She slapped Christine once. I want ten times that back from you."

He dragged Christine forward.

Before I could brace, the cracks were already falling, one after another sharp, then sharper, ringing off my face one blow after the next.

Nine of them. Each one heavier than the last. Each one crueler.

With every blow, the last trace of love left in me thinned out a little more.

By the final one, there was nothing left to feel.

Something warm trickled from the corner of my mouth, and my mouth filled with the taste of rust.

No one around dared step in.

Because the man swinging the hand was Roy Weiss, the man who ruled New York unchallenged.

When he finished, Roy rubbed Christine's hand for her.

Then came the cold warning.

"Keep your friend in line. Next time don't let her bark like a mad dog and frighten my woman."

With that, he took Christine's hand to leave.

"Roy Weiss."

I called him back and held out the divorce papers. "Sign."

He stared at me for a good ten seconds. Then he smiled.

"Tamara, still not done? You're going to play hard to get with me now?"

I tugged at the corner of my mouth. "You're overthinking it."

His face went dark all at once. He snatched the papers, scrawled his name across them, and flung them back in my face.

"Tamara, a friendly reminder. Without me, you're nothing."

"And the day you come crawling back in tears begging for forgiveness, I won't spare you a second glance."