Branded the Other Woman

Taken to the Station

A trace of unease crept into Belinda's voice as she continued, "By the way, let me ask you something—has there been anything wrong with my husband's health lately?"

There was a brief silence on the other end before the woman replied, "Mr. Coleman is in good health. His meeting is about to start, and I need to prepare the materials. Goodbye."

Belinda rolled her eyes in exasperation. "She hung up on me before I was even done talking. I'll have George fire her later!"

Karen chimed in from the side, "Exactly. Keeping someone like that around him is just asking for trouble sooner or later."

Belinda turned back to me. "Well? What else do you have to say now? Come on. You're going to the police station with me."

I almost laughed out of sheer disbelief.

This woman was a bimbo through and through, just without the beauty. That secretary clearly knew the truth; she just didn't want to spell it out for her.

The crowd began buzzing again.

"So it was fake? That certificate was probably printed at home."

"I knew it. What are the chances a volunteer just happens to run into the patient's family?"

"She looks so honest, too. I didn't expect her to be so calculating."

Belinda and her mother violently manhandled me into a taxi.

"Driver, take us to the nearest police station. I'm turning this rumor-spreading mistress over to the police."

The driver silently glanced at us through the rearview mirror and pressed the gas.

The moment we arrived and saw the police, Belinda grabbed my sleeve with one hand and pointed at my nose with the other. "Officer! This shameless woman seduced my husband. I caught her red-handed, and now she's even spreading rumors that my husband has leukemia!

"I want her arrested!"

Karen stood beside her, arms akimbo as she screeched loudly, "That's right! Homewreckers like her should be locked up for years! Officer, you have to stand up for us!"

The officer on duty was a young man in his early 30s, wearing glasses, still carrying a hint of the naivety of someone not long out of the academy.

He looked at me and saw the swollen bruise on my forehead, the red handprints across my cheek, and the smear of blood at the corner of my lips. I looked like a complete mess.

"Miss, are you alright?"

I took a deep breath and enunciated slowly. "Officer, I request that you retrieve the hospital's surveillance footage. I'm a registered volunteer with the National Marrow Donor Registry. I'm not a mistress. The footage will show me going in for compatibility testing."

I turned to Belinda. "You keep insisting I'm a mistress and that I seduced your husband. Fine. Let's pull the footage and see what really happened. I'll admit to whatever nonsense you spew at me if I am. But if I'm not…"

I trailed off before continuing darkly, "I will be holding you accountable for everything you did to me today."

Belinda's expression shifted for a moment, but she quickly forced it back into a sneer. "Fine. Show us the footage. I'd like to see what kind of excuse you come up with next."

The officer nodded, picked up the desk phone, and made a call. He spoke briefly into the receiver, gave the hospital's address, and the time frame for the footage. Once he hung up, he leaned back in his chair to wait.

Karen kept muttering under her breath during the wait. She was just loud enough for everyone in the reception hall to hear. Meanwhile, Belinda sat on a plastic chair with one leg crossed over the other, occasionally shooting me sharp looks.

Her eyes were filled with absolute confidence, as if she had already won. I didn't know what she thought she was winning, but it was like watching a strutting peacock without the feathers.

I leaned against the wall, my head throbbing where she'd hit me earlier. The dizziness from having eight tubes of blood drawn lingered. The ground beneath my feet felt wobbly, as though I were standing on cotton.

About 20 minutes later, a notification popped up on the officer's computer. The video file had been transferred.