Chapter 15: Pay him in his coin
IMOGEN'S POV
The very next morning, I woke up at the break of dawn. Took a nice and long shower. I shaved my legs. I shaped my eyebrows. I fixed my hair and did my makeup.
Since Elijah insisted on defiling our marriage, I intended to make his life hell the only way I knew how.
I stared back at the paper I had picked from the bin the night before. The Portland informant was owned by my brother-in-law, one man who wanted to ruin my husband. I was going to use him.
I looked back at my reflection. I looked good. The red lipstick that stained my lips was bold, a mark that would force attention on my person. I had made sure to roll my hair the night before. Now, they looked fluffy and full.
Satisfied with my hard work, I walked to the bed where I had laid out my clothes for the day.
A knee-length A-line skirt in a bold, geometric print paired with a cream-fitted button-up blouse.
I had barely gotten any sleep last night as I came to painfully know that Elijah's room was above my own. He didn't do much sleeping himself. He was far too occupied railing his mistress, and they were loud too. She especially. It was almost like she wanted me to be aware of her presence.
I messaged my neck which hurt because when I did eventually get some sleep. I slept on it, and it felt strained.
I picked up the clothes and wore them. I complimented the attire with the shoes I had gotten during the damage control my mother-in-law had orchestrated with her son and an old handbag that my mother threw in with the rest of my stuff.
I looked in the mirror one last time. Anyone who took a good look at me would be able to tell that I was begging to be seen. Just like I wanted. Satisfied with my achievement, I stepped out of the room and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.
When I reached the entrance, I noticed someone was already inside. The fridge was open, and they were rummaging through it.
My steps slowed as I observed the feminine figure, which was too slender to be Maggie, the housekeeper.
"Hello," I managed to say, gaining the woman's attention.
She peeked to see who I was before smiling. She took out a bottle of orange juice and walked up to the counter, where a clean glass was waiting for her.
"Morning," she greeted, pouring a generous amount of orange juice into her glass. "I didn't expect to bump into you."
It was a blatant lie. From the screaming while Elijah fucked her senseless all through the night, to her being in the open, she was practically begging to be seen by me, and she had succeeded.
I knew what she probably wanted. A reaction. She wanted to admit that I had lost. She did have my husband wrapped around her finger.
But I wasn't going to fight a losing battle. I walked past her and headed to the fridge. I picked a water bottle and cracked it open to take a much-needed gulp. "You must be..."
"Deborah." she answered, quite proud of herself for a whore and homewrecker.
"I'm Imogen. Elijah's wife."
I watched her grip on the glass of orange juice tighten so hard that I worried that it would crumble beneath the brute strength of her bony fingers.
I tried to guess what it was that my husband saw in her. She was skinny with auburn hair and sun-kissed skin that made her skin glow gold.
I was pale with hair as dark as night. The only thing we had in common was that we were both skinny, and skinny hadn't been an easy feat for me to acquire.
"You must know who I am," Deborah replied.
"Yes." I nodded, drinking more of my water. "Elijah filled me in. You are the mistress. Aren't you?'
Deborah chuckled. But I could tell she was burning with rage. "Mistress is what the myopic people might call me. But I am simply Elijah's love. I am sorry for how he had to treat you since you married him. He is not a bad person. It is just tough being with a woman you do not love."
"You're right," I agreed with her. "He is quite loyal to you. It makes me wonder why he married me instead of you."
The next gulp I took from the bottle happened to be the final one. It emptied, and I tossed it into a trash can.
"I have to go, Deborah. I do hope we meet again."
It took strength not to pick out one of the knives lying on the kitchen slab and gut her with it. She was burning me to the ground, and she looked so unaffected by it.
I tucked away stubborn locks of my fluffy hair behind my ear when I tried to leave the kitchen, only to bump into Elijah on my way out.
He was clad only his boxer briefs, forcing me to have horrible flashbacks about last night.
Elijah's expression hardened as he caught sight of me, his eyes flickering with mostly surprise. "Imogen," he said, his tone clipped.
"Good morning, Elijah," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me.
He glanced briefly at Deborah, who stood by the counter with an unreadable expression on her face. "Deborah, could you give us a moment?" he asked, his voice betraying no hint of emotion.
Deborah nodded, flashing me a smug smile before sauntering out of the kitchen, her hips swaying with deliberate exaggeration.
Once she was gone, Elijah turned his attention back to me, his eyes searching mine. "Why were you with her?" he asked, his voice low.
"I live here, Elijah," I said, struggling to keep my composure. "In case you forgot, this is my house too."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, Imogen, I know you must be furious considering that I promised that—"
"But I am not," I interjected. "I agreed to your demands for this to be an open union. You do what you want, and I can do what I want. Win-win."
He didn't seem to buy a word I was saying. But the second I mentioned the freedom we both had to do what we wanted, he seemed to notice my dress.
"Are you going somewhere?" He asked.
I looked down at my dress and fixed my hair. "Yes. Nothing spectacular." I told him. "How do I look?"
He took another good look at my dress, especially my face. "You don't usually wear a lot of makeup. What is the event?"
"I am going to see a friend." I strung him on. It seemed to me like my husband had a lot more on his mind to say about my choice of outfit and makeup choice.
"A female friend?" He continued to probe.
"No, a male friend."
Elijah's eyebrows furrowed in suspicion, his gaze narrowing as he studied me intently. "A male friend?" he repeated, his tone tinged with skepticism.
I forced a smile, hoping to appear nonchalant despite the tension crackling between us. "Yes, a male friend," I affirmed, my voice steady. "Is there a problem with that?"
He hesitated, clearly torn between probing further and letting the matter drop. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that was all too familiar to me.
"No, there's no problem," he said finally, though his tone suggested otherwise. "I just... If you are seeing your side piece, remember that the media is watching, and you should be very careful."
"I know," I replied softly, meeting his gaze. "It must be all the sex I listened on last night. A woman has needs too, you know. But I'll be careful."
Elijah's expression hardened at my flippant remark, his jaw clenched in anger. "Imogen, this is serious," he said sternly, his tone brooking no argument. "We agreed to keep our affairs discreet for the sake of reputation. If you're going to see someone, you need to be more cautious."
"Geez," I clutched my bag closer, pushing past him. "I said I know."
I could feel his eyes burning at me as I walked away. Yes. This was what I wanted. For Elijah to feel every last bit of the pain he inflicted on me.
When I reached the front door, I turned back to wave him goodbye while smiling.
"This is just the beginning, husband." I mused. "I intend to take both of us to hell."
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone