For 35 Years, I Kissed the Accomplice of Mom's Killer

Martha's POV

My lawyer's words hit me like a bolt from the blue, leaving me completely stunned.

I could hardly wrap my mind around what I had just heard.

My body was frozen in place as I turned to him for confirmation.

In disbelief, I stammered, "Is that true? Could there be some mistake?"

Sensing my breakdown, he gave me a sympathetic glance.

He turned his computer screen toward me, pointing to the section marked [Spouse].

There she was, clear as day—Paula.

I blinked in disbelief.

All these years, I’d assumed they were secretly meeting, but I never imagined they had been married for thirty years.

Meanwhile, here I was, the one without a name, the real other woman.

Then what did my decades of sacrifice really mean? What had I been working toward?

It felt like a thousand tiny ants were gnawing at my heart, the sharp pain slicing through me as I struggled to hold myself together.

They were nothing but animals.

The only thing on my mind was to go home. I needed to pack everything and leave. This house and this life had all become a suffocating black hole.

I hurried back to the house.

The door creaked as I stepped inside, and immediately, I was hit by the sight of the living room in utter disarray.

Delbert and Jenna had invited their colleagues over for a party.

The whole downstairs was messy, filled with empty bottles and snack wrappers. The kitchen—cleaned only yesterday—was now cluttered with dirty dishes. Leftover food remained on the table, untouched, as no one had tidied up.

I could feel my blood boiling as I stared at the scene.

Delbert, sitting with his colleagues in front of the TV, glanced over and lazily commanded, “Mom, you're back? Clean up the house, will you? It’s a mess. We’re singing karaoke later, and you’ll need to grab some snacks for us.”

His tone was so inherently commanding that it made my fists tighten. I almost felt like slapping him right then and there. However, I restrained myself, ignoring him as I turned to go upstairs and pack.

I gathered everything I could—clothes, personal items, and the savings I had worked so hard to save over the years. I packed up every household item and gift I had bought for Randall, Delbert, and Ozzie, and threw them out with the rest of the trash.

If they didn’t see me as family, they didn’t deserve anything that belonged to me.

Just then, Randall came home. He stopped short at the sight, frowning.

“These are still useful,” he said. “Why did you throw them out?”

I met his gaze coldly. “No reason. If you need it, buy new ones.”

Randall seemed confused, not realizing I was no longer playing by his rules. He thought I was still going to buy the items. His face softened just a little.

“Well, you can pay for it yourself. I’m not helping anymore. Although I’m the one who provided for this house, saving money is a virtue.”

I didn’t answer him. I turned and walked toward the door to grab my suitcase.

But before I could leave, Randall stopped me again. “I’m taking Paula to a concert tonight. I won’t be back until the day after tomorrow. Could you pack my bags for me?”

His words hit me like a slap to the face, and I had to swallow the rising bitterness.

He continued, “Also, pack Paula’s. She’s never done this before. I’m not sure she can manage. I trust you more.”

His words were a dagger, each one twisting deeper. All these years of serving them, living as a silent servant to their needs, and here he was, asking me to pack her bags.

A bitter laugh tore from my throat. But even as I laughed, my eyes burned hot.

I stared straight into Randall’s eyes and said deliberately, “I’m too busy. If you care so much about her, go pack for her yourself.”

Without waiting for his response, I grabbed my suitcase, shoved past him, and walked out of the room.

That night, Paula posted on her social media again.

She shared two photos.

The first was of her holding hands with someone. I instantly recognized Randall in the photo, even though his face was slightly turned.

The second photo was a selfie of her, showing a sapphire necklace that shone under the lights.

When I saw the necklace, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. It was the same necklace my mom had given me before she died. I had never worn it, always keeping it safely tucked away.

A wave of dread washed over me. My heart skipped a beat as panic surged through me. I rushed out of bed, grabbed my suitcase, and opened the safe.

When I opened it, the sapphire necklace was gone.

The realization hit me hard, ‘Randall has stolen my necklace and given it to Paula!’

Fury ignited in every fiber of my being.

I slammed the safe shut, grabbed my things, and hailed a taxi straight to the concert venue.

When I arrived, I ignored the security guards' protests as I charged past them.

There, in the front row, sat Paula, smugly showing off the necklace, basking in the admiration of those around her.

My blood boiled, my head pounded.

Without thinking, I stormed toward her and slapped her across the face.

But in the very next moment, a hand sharply slapped my cheek.

It was Randall's hand.