The Other Woman

AUDREY’S POV

Nolan’s charming smile vanished the second his eyes locked on mine. The relaxed slope of his shoulders stiffened, morphing instantly into rigid defense. He did not scramble away from the woman beside him. He did not jump up in a panic. Instead, a deep crease formed between his brows. He looked at me as though I had interrupted a crucial business deal, rather than a clandestine rendezvous.

"What are you doing here, Audrey?" he snapped. He rose from the leather sofa with a slow, deliberate movement. There was no warmth in his brown eyes, no flicker of pleasant surprise. He wore a mask of pure irritation.

I stood frozen by the doorframe. My knuckles ached from gripping the metal USB casing so tight. I raised my hand, showing it to him, my voice trembling as I forced the words out. "You left this at home. You needed it for the meeting."

"I told Carmen to bring it." His tone cut through the quiet office like a whip. "Not you. You should not have bothered coming all the way down here."

That was his greeting. He did not thank me. He did not ask how the drive was. He did not even bother to spin a believable lie to spare my feelings. He was genuinely furious that his wife had shown up instead of the maid.

My chest tightened as though a heavy stone had settled over my lungs. I stared at him, my mind struggling to process the blatant hostility radiating from his posture. "That is what you are upset about? The fact that I brought this up?"

He tightened his jaw. He remained standing near the coffee table, offering no explanation and no apology.

Before the tense silence could stretch any further, the woman on the couch shifted.

"Nolan... who is she?"

Her voice flowed like silk. It carried a soft, mocking undertone that made my skin crawl. I shifted my gaze toward her. Lydia Mercer crossed her long legs with casual grace. She was not in any rush. Her nails bore a pristine coat of pale pink polish. The way her eyes darted over me felt less like a greeting and more like a cruel appraisal.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I turned my attention back to Nolan, waiting for him to speak. I waited for him to define us. He opened his mouth, hesitated, and snapped it shut. A muscle ticked in his cheek.

I refused to let him hide me. I answered the question myself.

"I am his wife." I kept my voice steady, raising my left hand to display my wedding band. The gold caught the light pouring in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

As I lowered my hand, my gaze drifted down to Nolan’s fingers. They were bare. The spot where his wedding ring belonged was empty, showing no pale tan line, no sign he had worn it at all today. He had removed it for work. He had erased my existence before he even stepped into the building.

The betrayal hit me with the force of a physical blow. The air rushed out of my lungs, leaving me hollow.

"Oh. You did not mention a wife last night when I asked you," Lydia purred, tilting her head with a practiced innocence.

Last night.

Those two words echoed in the tense space of the office. The puzzle pieces slammed together in my mind. The photo he claimed meant nothing. The lingering scent of lipstick on his collar. The young intern he swore I had no reason to worry about. It was all a cheap screen. He was with her.

A bitter burn clawed its way up my throat. Nolan caught the shift in my expression. He saw the exact second I cracked his lies open. He finally decided it was time to intervene.

"Yes, I am married." He cleared his throat, suddenly adopting a formal, businesslike tone. "This is Audrey. My wife. Audrey, this is Lydia. We are old friends from college."

Old friends.

I knew exactly who she was. Hearing her name spoken out loud, legitimized in my husband's private domain, twisted my stomach into sickening knots.

Lydia turned her dangerous gaze back to me. She took her time. Her sharp eyes dragged from the messy bun on top of my head down to my sensible flats. She examined my simple blouse. She scrutinized my jeans. She did not bother to hide her blatant judgment. Her pink lips curled upward into a slow, devastating smirk.

A small, breathy laugh slipped from her mouth. She shook her head, staring directly at Nolan.

"Wow. I honestly cannot believe it. Nolan, really? This is who you ended up with?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks, burning like a branding iron. I dug my nails into my palms. "Excuse me?"

She waved a dismissive hand in the air, maintaining that terrible smile. It was the smile of someone swatting away a harmless moth.

"I mean, no offense. She is just not what I expected. Did you stop caring about appearances? She is so plain. And you have gained a lot of weight, have you not? You could have at least dressed up properly before walking in here."

The insults struck deep, anchoring into my darkest insecurities. I froze in place, the edges of the USB digging into my palm.

I looked at Nolan. I screamed at him in my mind. Tell her to shut up. Throw her out of your office. Defend me. Do something. Show her that I matter.

He stood planted on the expensive rug. He did not say a single word. He did not bark out a reprimand. He did not defend my honor or his wedding vows.

His face laid his true feelings bare. His eyes were wide, tight, and clouded with a sickening veil of shame. He was embarrassed. He was ashamed to be caught in a room with his own wife.

This was the same man who used to trace my stretch marks in the dark. The man who kissed my stomach and called those marks the beautiful proof of our daughter coming into the world. Now, he refused to meet my eyes, shrinking away from me to protect a woman who had once treated him like dirt.

I glanced down at my clothes. Denim and cotton. Clean, practical, real. I had not come here to walk a red carpet. I had rushed across town in traffic to deliver a forgotten drive, hoping to save his precious presentation.

I was no longer the skinny twenty-year-old girl he met on campus. I had carried a child. I had spent countless nights pacing the floorboards with a feverish baby in my arms. I maintained our home, managed our life, and kept the pieces together while he stayed late at the office chasing success. I was tired. I was exhausted. But I was not ugly. I was not insignificant.

I found my voice, forcing the hurt down and replacing it with raw defiance. "You are really going to stand there and let her speak to me like that?"

Nolan remained mute. He shifted his weight away from me.

My knees threatened to buckle, but I forced my spine straight. I refused to shed a tear in front of Lydia Mercer. She would not get the satisfaction of seeing me break.

The silence transported me back to a crowded university hallway. I was the invisible scholarship student. Nolan and Lydia had been the untouchable campus royalty. They ruled the social scene with endless money and good looks. When his family lost their fortune and the bank accounts ran dry, Lydia tossed him aside without a backward glance.

She let him become an object of pity and campus gossip. I was the one who approached him. I took him for cheap coffee. I listened to his broken dreams. I made him feel human again. I gave everything I had to help him rebuild his confidence and shape his future. I had glued his shattered pride back together.

Now, the toxic cycle was repeating. The king had his crown back, and the queen who abandoned him had returned for the spoils. She sat comfortably on his leather couch, treating his office like her personal throne room, erasing my existence with a wave of her manicured hand.

Nolan once swore he adored me just the way I was. He used to hold me close and promise I never needed to change a single thing. He told me not to stress over my post-pregnancy body. Every whispered comfort had been a fragile lie, ready to snap the moment his golden girl walked back through the door.

I locked eyes with Lydia, demanding an answer, determined to drag the ugly truth out into the harsh daylight. I refused to play the role of the quiet, obedient spectator in my own marriage.

"Why are you even here? Why are you sitting on that couch, pressing yourself against my husband? Why do you act like you belong in this office?"

Her playful, mocking demeanor vanished. Her smile turned sharp, calculating, and chillingly cold. She did not flinch beneath my stare. Instead, she leaned back deliberately, sinking deeper into the soft leather cushions of the couch. She adjusted her posture with a slow, sickening confidence.

She lifted her hand and rested it gently against her flat stomach, her fingers splaying over the smooth fabric of her designer dress. Her chin tilted up in triumph.

"I have every right to be close to Nolan. And I am pregnant. I am expecting, Audrey. It is Nolan’s baby."