Chapter 2 - The Watch On Her Wrist
Roman didn’t crush Trevor’s wrist. He didn’t need to.
The slight, calculated pressure was enough to bring Trevor to his knees on the polished marble.
“Roman Vance,” the boutique manager gasped, rushing forward with his hands raised in apology. “Mr. Vance, I am so sorry. Security is handling this.”
Trevor’s eyes widened. The color that had drained from his face was replaced by a sickly, terrified gray.
Roman Vance.
Everyone in the city knew the name. He owned the real estate this boutique sat on. He owned the development firm Trevor had just bragged about working for.
“You… you’re her husband?” Trevor stammered, looking up at Roman, then at me.
“I am,” Roman said smoothly. He finally released Trevor’s arm. Trevor stumbled back, clutching his wrist against his chest like a child.
“She was a waitress,” Trevor blurted out, the panic overriding his common sense. “She was nobody.”
“She is everything,” Roman corrected. His voice never rose above a conversational hum, yet it echoed through the dead silence of the store. “And you are currently breathing my air.”
Trevor’s blonde fiancée stepped forward, her face flushed with embarrassment. She grabbed Trevor’s shoulder. “Trevor, get up. You’re making a scene.”
As she reached down, her sleeve pulled back.
The boutique’s chandelier caught the light of the watch on her wrist. A vintage, rose-gold timepiece with a cracked face and a braided leather strap.
My breath hitched.
It wasn’t just a watch. It was my grandmother’s watch. The one I had hidden in the back of my dresser drawer three years ago. The one I thought I had lost in the move after Trevor left me unable to pay rent.
He hadn’t just taken my emergency cash. He had raided my bedroom.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, stepping out from behind Roman.
The blonde woman looked down at her wrist, confused. “Trevor gave it to me. He said it was his late mother’s family heirloom.”
Roman shifted his stance. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Trevor scrambled to his feet, pulling his fiancée back. “Let’s go, Chloe. They’re crazy.”
“Take it off,” I said, my voice steady, though my hands shook.
“Sadi, don’t start this—” Trevor warned, trying to sound tough.
Roman stepped between us. He didn’t look at Trevor. He looked at Chloe.
“Ma’am,” Roman said gently. “That watch belongs to my wife. Turn it over, and you will see the initials E.R. engraved on the clasp.”
Chloe’s hands trembled as she unlatched it. She turned it over. She gasped.
She shoved the watch into my hands and turned to Trevor. “You lied to me?”
“Chloe, wait, I can explain!” Trevor pleaded.
But as I held the cold metal of my grandmother's watch, I noticed something else. The back casing was slightly loose. I pressed my thumb against it, and the metal backing popped open.
A small, tightly folded piece of paper fell onto the marble floor.
Roman picked it up and handed it to me.
I unfolded it. It wasn’t a note. It was a deposit slip, dated three days before Trevor left me.
A deposit for fifty thousand dollars.
And the name on the account wasn’t Trevor’s. It was a corporate account belonging to Vance Enterprises. Roman's company.
May you like
I slowly looked up at my husband.
“Roman,” I whispered. “What is this?”
