“Separated,” Yahmaria repeated, like she was tasting the word. “But not divorced. Because I haven’t signed the papers. Which means legally, technically, in every way that matters—I’m still your wife.”
Alexis took a step back, her hand pressed against her chest like she’d been physically struck. “You’re married. This whole time, you’ve been married.”
“Alexis—”
“Don’t.” She held up her hand, stopping me mid-sentence. “Just don’t.”
Syx had made his way down the stairs and was leaning against the wall now, watching the scene unfold with the kind of dark amusement that made me want to throw him out of my house. But I couldn’t deal with him right now. Couldn’t deal with anything except the fact that my past had just walked through my door and blown up my present.
Yahmaria moved closer to me, her perfume—something expensive and familiar—filling the space between us. “I’ve missed you, baby. We need to talk. About us. About our future.”
“We don’t have a future,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “We haven’t had one for a long time.”
“That’s not what my father thinks.”
And there it was. The real reason she was here. Victor. Always Victor.
Alexis was already moving toward the door, her movements sharp and angry. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I was stupidenough to—” She stopped, turned back to look at me one last time. “You know what? You two deserve each other.”
The door slammed behind her.
The sound echoed through the house like a gunshot.
Yahmaria smiled. “Well. That went well.”
I looked at her—really looked at her—and felt nothing but cold, calculated fury. “Get out of my house.”
“It’s my house too, remember? Community property. We’re still married.”
“Get. Out.”
She tilted her head, studying me with those dark eyes that had once made me feel something other than contempt. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Amai. I’m not going anywhere. Not until we have a real conversation about what happens next.”
From the corner of the room, Syx let out a low whistle. “Man, this is better than anything on TV.”
I didn’t take my eyes off Yahmaria. “What do you want?”
“What I’ve always wanted.” She stepped closer, close enough that I could see the calculation behind her smile. “You.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I knew without looking that it was probably Truth. Checking in. Asking how I was. Being the person Yahmaria had never been and never would be.
And I knew—with absolute certainty—that if Yahmaria found out about Truth, about the baby, about any of it, she would use it to destroy me.
Not because she loved me.
But because she could.
“Get out,” I said again, my voice deadly quiet. “Before I make you.”
Yahmaria’s smile didn’t waver. “We’ll see about that, baby. We’ll see.”
She turned and walked toward the door, her heels clicking against the floor with each step. At the threshold, she paused and looked back over her shoulder.
“Oh, and Amai? My father says hello. We had lunch yesterday. He’s very interested in how things are going with your… project.”
The door closed behind her.
