Receipts of Infidelity

The compound at the precinct entrance was jam-packed with cars. I'd only just parked the car when I saw Tristan leaving through the doors, his tall and straight silhouette clad in the standard-issue police uniform.

However, he looked grim. It was obvious he'd seen me, for his brows furrowed as he hurried over to my car.

He opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. Rage colored his hushed tones as he hissed at me, "What the hell are you thinking, Genevieve? Must you make a big deal out of this?"

"Excuse me?" I leveled an icy look at him. "I simply want to know the truth, Tristan. What is going on between you and Lara?"

He turned his face away, avoiding my gaze. "I told you, she's just an orphan I'm sponsoring."

"And you've been sponsoring her hotel stays, too?" I sneered, "Do you take me for an idiot, Tristan?"

"Why are you so intent on making things hard for me, Genevieve?" He whipped his head around to glower at me viciously.

At that moment, a slender figure appeared at the back door of the precinct. It was none other than Lara.

She was holding a lunch box, her white dress billowing in the gentle breeze. When she saw Tristan and me in the car, she blanched, and her eyes turned red with oncoming tears.

"Tris…" she called out timidly, her voice trembling like yellowed leaves shaken by rough winds. "I brought you some chowder. I didn't know Mrs. Griffin was here, too…"

Tristan moved quickly, as if possessed with lightning speed. He threw the car door open and hurried over to Lara, instinctively shielding her. It was as if he'd practiced this move a thousand times: the fluidity and seamlessness were a jarring sight to me.

"What are you doing here?" he chided Lara, but his tone was layered with an imperceptible indulgence. "Didn't I tell you to wait for me in the office?"

"I didn't want the chowder to get cold…" Lara lowered her head, the red woven bracelet on her wrist sliding down to her arm. I couldn't ignore the bright red smear of that bracelet.

I opened the door and got out of the car. My heels clicked against the cement ground in a crisp staccato until I stopped in front of Tristan and Lara.

Tristan immediately pulled Lara behind him protectively, a subtle gesture that stoked the rage boiling within me.

"You're seriously protecting her now, Tristan?" I barked a dry laugh as I countered coldly, "Do you even remember who you're married to?"

"Stop kicking up a fuss, Gen!" Tristan scowled, his eyes venomous. "Lara's young, and you're scaring her."

"I'm scaring her?" I pointed at Lara and raised my voice. "Then, tell me what she's got on her wrist! I made that red bracelet for you! I had it blessed at a church before I gave it to you!

"You told me you'd never take it off and that you'd protect me forever, but what did you do instead? You gave it to another woman and took her to the hotel to spend the night!"

The police officers milling about turned to cast sidelong glances at us. Some even stopped in their tracks to discuss our altercation with frenzied interest.

Tristan's face went white, then red, and a vein popped on his forehead and began to throb. "You could've at least waited until we got home to talk about this, Gen! May I remind you that we're at a precinct?"

"Are you scared?" I took a step closer and stared into his eyes. "You didn't strike me as scared when you brought her to the hotel to sleep with her. You weren't scared when you took her back to our place and screwed her in our bed, either!

"You should have known this would happen when you decided to pull all that nonsense while dressed in your uniform!"

"Mrs. Griffin, please…" Lara interjected in a cracking voice. She was shaking as she clutched Tristan's arm.

She continued, "This is all my fault. Please don't blame Tris for any of this… I-I made the first move, and Tris turned me down at first—"

"You made the first move?" This was the biggest joke I'd ever heard. I fished my phone out of my purse and clicked on the security footage.

As I showed it to Lara, I asked, "Were you the one who decided to wear a white dress and walk into an elevator with him hand-in-hand?

"Were you the one who chose to wear the red woven bracelet I made and waited for him at the hotel? Haven't your parents ever taught you shame?"

Lara was quaking after hearing my torrent of abuse. Tears slid down her cheeks uncontrollably, and she suddenly crouched with a hand on her stomach, a cry escaping her. "My… My stomach…"

Tristan paled. He didn't think twice before he bent to help her up. "Lara, what's wrong?"

"Don't touch her!" I snapped. "Look at her! She's clearly faking it!"

"You're out of your mind, Genevieve!" Tristan roared, hatred flickering in his eyes and threatening to slice me open. "Lara's pregnant now! If anything happens to her, I'll make you pay for it!"

The word "pregnant" hit me like a ton of bricks. I staggered backward, staring in disbelief at Lara's slightly swollen lower abdomen. So, she was now expecting a baby with Tristan.

I snorted as my eyes lingered on Tristan and Lara, the star-crossed lovers putting on a show before me, and felt like life had delivered its joke with acerbic irony.

"Look at you, Tristan. You've sponsored Lara not only with food, clothes, and books, but now, you've also given her a child. You certainly give your job your all, officer," I drawled.

Lara wept even harder in Tristan's arms, saying in between sobs, "Let's go, Tris… I don't want Mrs. Griffin to be angry with me… Mrs. Griffin, Tris and I are in love. We love each other, and we just want your blessing."

"Love?" I laughed until I teared up, then pointed at the stone plaque by the precinct entrance, on which were engraved the words, "To Protect and Serve."

"You aren't so much protecting and serving as you are lying and cheating, Tristan. What? Is your love story built on the destruction of another's marriage?

"Let me make this clear for you, Lara: for as long as I'm Tristan's lawfully wedded wife, you will forever be his side piece and dirty little secret!"

"That's enough!" Tristan scooped Lara into his arms and shot me an icy glare. "For the last time, Genevieve: do not test me."