His Fake Wife Shattered Vows and Sweet Revenge

It hit me all at once. This was what she'd meant in her WhatsApp message. Blowing off steam.

Kitty had never liked me, because she knew I'd had feelings for Darren. After they got married, I'd kept my distance. I spent most of my time living at the shop just to avoid any appearance of impropriety. On the rare occasions we crossed paths, I called her "sis" like a good girl and never once stepped out of line. I even swallowed every passive-aggressive jab she threw my way without complaint.

But now? They'd used my feelings. Played me for a fool.

So why should I—why should my family—be the ones dragged through the mud?

For the first time, I didn't want to back down.

I raised my hand to strike, but someone seized my wrist in a crushing grip.

Darren swept a glance over the paint splattered across my body, then frowned at Kitty.

"What the hell is wrong with you now?"

There was no real bite to it. No anger. Meanwhile, his grip on my wrist was iron-tight, as though he were terrified I might actually hit someone.

Kitty pointed at me, her voice dripping with wounded innocence.

"Darren, she's the one who wrecked our marriage. She forced you to divorce me and marry her. All I did was splash a little paint to vent. That's not unreasonable, is it?"

"And then she wouldn't even admit it. She was about to hit me."

"So go ahead, tell everyone right now. Is she the other woman or not? Clear it up, so nobody thinks I'm making this up!"

The crowd murmured in agreement.

"Yeah, you're the one involved. Who's telling the truth here?"

I lifted my eyes and met Darren's gaze.

A flicker of hope stirred in my chest.

But then he spoke.

"That's a private matter. No comment."

He turned to Kitty, his tone laced with indulgence and mild exasperation.

"You've had your fun. Go home. Don't let it happen again."

Kitty clung to his arm, simpering, and shot me a triumphant look.

"Fine, fine, I get it."

She turned to the crowd, voice pitched loud enough for every last person to hear. "See? He basically admitted it. He's just not saying it outright to save a certain tramp a shred of dignity."

"Boys, tear this homewrecker's shop apart!"

Darren pulled me into the car. He took a wet wipe and started cleaning the paint off my face.

Through the window, I watched the shop I'd poured my heart into being destroyed. Smashed beyond recognition. The same customers who had once smiled at me were now spitting at the entrance.

I turned away, slowly.

"Why didn't you tell them I'm not the other woman?"

Darren's hand paused. He reached for mine.

"Kitty cares about her image. If I'd said that, it would've been like slapping her in the face in front of everyone."

"Our marriage already hurt her enough. You've always been so understanding. Can't you just let her have this one? Please?"

"Don't worry. I already warned her. There won't be a next time."

Right. Every time Kitty was in a bad mood, she found some new way to nail me to the cross, to brand me the other woman all over again. And every single time, Darren fed me the exact same lines.

What a performance.

When I said nothing, he took my silence for surrender and softened his voice.

"It's fine. I'll have someone redo the shop for you. Maybe a fresh look, a new style."

I didn't answer. Let him say whatever he wanted.

I was leaving anyway.

Back at the villa, Abner Farley and Sophia Farley took one look at the state of me and froze.

They rushed over, demanding to know who'd done this, insisting they'd make it right.

I caught the flicker of panic in Darren's eyes, and I smiled.

"It was my own fault. I wasn't watching where I was going and tripped over a paint bucket."

"Dad, Mom, I'm going to go wash up."

Darren stared at me, something unreadable shifting behind his expression.

When I first came to live with the Farleys, I'd accidentally knocked over an antique vase. Darren had taken the blame for me.

Consider us even.

It took nearly an hour of scrubbing before every last trace of paint finally washed away.