Bianca had commented: Can you come up with something new? Last time you said Mr. Gilbert took you to the Maldives. So what happened?
Ella: He got scared his wife would find out and bailed early lol~ hahahaha~
I'd seen that post at the time and actually laughed on her behalf.
Classic Ella. The queen of tall tales. Anyone who believed her was an idiot.
One year ago, Valentine's Day:
"Thank you Mr. Gilbert for the $7,700 Valentine's Day cash gift~ I bet even the wife doesn't get this kind of treatment~ tsk tsk tsk~"
I'd replied with an eye-roll meme.
That day, Rodney had sent me $5,200.
I'd still thought I was the one he loved more.
I kept scrolling.
The designer bags and shoes she'd shown off, the photos from upscale venues, I'd smiled and swiped past every single one.
Because she was Ella.
Nothing Ella said could be taken seriously.
But now I was holding Rodney's second phone, staring at every single transfer in their chat history.
$12,000 for that necklace.
$80,000 down payment on that apartment, with Ella's name on the deed.
The Valentine's Day cash gift was $7,700 too, matching the exact amount she'd bragged about on Instagram.
She had never been lying.
Every single post was the truth, announced in broad daylight.
And I was one of the few people stupid enough to believe otherwise.
I slipped the phone back into his coat pocket.
Then I lay back down and closed my eyes.
Tears soaked into the pillow.
A week later, I was discharged.
Rodney drove to pick me up. An infant car seat sat in the back.
I climbed in holding our son, and he watched me through the rearview mirror, his smile gentle.
"I'll make ribs when we get home. You need to eat well while you're recovering."
I said nothing.
Back at the house, the living room was decorated with balloons and clusters of fresh flowers.
His parents stood at the door, beaming.
"There he is! Our grandson is home! Vanessa, sweetie, you've been through so much."
His mother took the baby, cradling him like he was the most precious thing in the world.
His father clapped Rodney on the shoulder. "You're a dad now. Take good care of your wife and son."
The whole family looked like something out of a holiday card.
I sat on the couch, watching them pass the baby around, and waited until every pair of eyes was on the infant.
I reached into my bag, pulled out the black phone, and set it on the coffee table.
Then I picked up the remote. Moved the water glass. Cleared away the fruit platter.
Until only the phone remained, sitting alone in the dead center of the table.
The living room went quiet.
The second Rodney saw the phone, the plate of ribs froze midair in his hand.
"Vanessa..."
"Your chat history with Ella goes back three years."
My voice was level.
"You called her 'baby.' She called you 'husband.' You told her you felt too guilty to divorce me, but you couldn't stand making her be the woman kept in the dark."
"Your son spent four days in Room 3015. Every night at three a.m., you went to see him, then came back and pretended nothing happened."
The plate hit the floor. Ribs scattered across the tile, broth splashing everywhere.
His mother clapped a hand over her mouth.
His father's expression turned to stone.
Rodney dropped to a crouch, reaching for my hand.
"Vanessa, I can explain. Ella, she..."
"Explain what? That you spent twelve thousand dollars on a necklace for her? That you made the down payment on her apartment? Or that on Valentine's Day, her cash gift was twenty-five hundred more than mine?"
His body gave out. He sank to his knees on the floor.
"Vanessa, what I feel for you is real. I never lied to you..."
