Chapter 5 of Too Late, EX-Husband: The wife He Never Wanted

"Look at that gown. Hasn't that been out of style for years?"

"Well, what do you expect? She's a fraud, remember?"

"The real Henson heiress is right up there, on the chairman's arm."

Every whispered barb drove into my eardrums like a needle.

I lifted my chin slightly, kept my spine straight, and walked in as though I hadn't heard a word.

Inside the ballroom, Malcolm was guiding Lillian through the crowd.

She was visibly nervous, stumbling over her words, but he picked up the conversation so seamlessly that no one noticed, smoothing over every awkward pause in two or three sentences.

She couldn't handle alcohol, so he raised the glass for her, intercepting toast after toast.

When Lillian nearly knocked over a wine glass with a clumsy elbow, he caught her wrist and steadied it. "Take it slow. It's fine."

I watched all of it, something thick lodging in my throat.

That used to be me at these events, working the room on his behalf.

I was the one who charmed the guests with the right words at the right time.

I was the one who drank so he didn't have to, who memorized every associate's preferences, who anticipated every detail before it became a problem.

I had to be flawless. Thorough. Beyond reproach. I had to be the impeccable "chairman's wife" before anyone would accept me or take me seriously.

But now Lillian stood at his side.

She couldn't do any of it.

And he shielded her like something precious, letting her carry nothing at all.

Toward the end of the gala, Malcolm needed to speak privately with a potential partner, so a separate room was arranged for the meeting.

As the wife, I was expected to be present.

Lillian, however, wasn't his legal spouse, so she was asked to wait outside.

As the conversation warmed, the partner raised his glass and turned to me with a smile. "Surely the chairman's wife will have a drink?"

A glass of baijiu was pushed in front of me.

My period had started that morning. I was about to decline when a hand reached over and lifted the glass away before I could speak.

"She can't drink today."

Malcolm tipped his head back and downed the liquor in one swallow.

For a split second, as the light caught the movement of his throat, his profile was so familiar it made the room tilt beneath me.

The partner chuckled knowingly. "I had no idea Mr. Delgado and his wife were still so devoted."

There was a thread of mockery in it. Everyone knew about Malcolm's affairs.

But Malcolm just let out a quiet laugh.

"If I don't spoil her, who would I spoil? I said seven years ago I'd be good to my wife for the rest of my life."

I lowered my eyes. My fingernails dug slowly into my palms.

For three years I had told myself, over and over: stop loving Malcolm Delgado.

Stop letting him shake you.

And yet one sentence, one line I knew was nothing more than social performance, still made my chest ache.

I still felt something. After everything, I still felt something for a throwaway line like that.

The meeting was wrapping up when a commotion erupted outside.

Voices clashing, growing louder by the second.

Then the door was flung open.

A server stood in the doorway, white-faced and barely steady on her feet. "Excuse me, who here is Miss Lillian Henson's boyfriend? She's been... she's been assaulted!"

The words had barely left her mouth.

Malcolm shot to his feet. His chair toppled behind him and hit the floor with a crack.

He didn't look at me. Not even a glance. He was out the door on pure instinct.

I followed.

The door to the next room stood wide open.

Lillian was huddled in the corner, clothes disheveled, hair tangled across her face.

The moment she saw Malcolm, she lurched toward him like he was the last solid thing in the world, crashing into his chest, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

"Malcolm! I just stepped out for some air... they dragged me in here out of nowhere... they tore at my clothes... they touched me..."

"If I hadn't screamed... they would have..."

The rest dissolved. Her whole body was shaking.

Malcolm's eyes went red.

I had never seen him look like that. Not once.

The men in the room stumbled backward, tripping over each other.

"Mr. Delgado! It's a misunderstanding! We didn't know she was yours!"

"If we'd known she was connected to you, we never would have laid a finger on her!"

I noticed Edith Shepherd standing in the corner. One of Malcolm's former lovers.

Her gaze landed on me, cold and steady, and she spoke.

"Mr. Delgado, don't be angry. We were just doing what we were paid to do."

"This whole thing was arranged by your wife."

My heart plummeted. "That's a lie!"

But Edith didn't flinch. She reached calmly into her bag and pulled out her phone.

"Lie or not, why don't we all just listen?"

She pressed play.

My voice filled the room, crisp and unmistakable.

"Have your way with Lillian Henson. Ten million per man, per round."

Every drop of blood drained from my body in a single instant.

"I never said that!" My voice came out strangled. "That audio is fabricated!"

"Prudence... if you don't want me around... you could just tell me to leave!"

Lillian's face was ashen, as though she'd been backed to the edge of a cliff.

She clung to Malcolm's lapels, her voice breaking apart. "Why would you do this to me? You're a woman too..."

"If this is really what you want, I'll go. I'll leave, okay? I'll stay away from Malcolm. I won't be here anymore..."

She seemed to shatter completely, struggling to pull free.

But Malcolm wrapped his arms around her and held tight, his eyes filled with nothing but anguish for her.

"It's okay. It's okay. I'm here. Don't be scared. I'll handle this."

"No one will ever touch you again."

His tenderness was a blade.

Each word carved deeper into the softest place in my chest.

He believed them. He actually believed every word.

I pressed my hands to my face and bent forward, a bitter laugh escaping before I could stop it.

Minutes ago, in that meeting room, his small act of kindness had rekindled something I thought I'd killed. And just like that, it was crushed to dust.

Why couldn't I learn? Why did I never learn?

How could I forget that whenever Lillian was involved, he never once stopped to ask, never once considered another possibility. It was always my fault. Always.

He was no longer the Malcolm who trusted me unconditionally, no matter what.

I forced myself to stay calm, though my voice trembled. "This is a crime. I can call the police. If I did this, I'll face the consequences."

But Malcolm didn't spare me so much as a glance. He simply moved Lillian behind him.

Then he turned to the men, and his voice dropped to something subzero.

"Prudence offered you ten million. I'll give you twenty."

"Sleep with her. Twenty million a round."

I couldn't move. A high-pitched ringing tore through my skull, drowning out everything else.

I thought I'd misheard.

Malcolm looked at me, and there was nothing in his eyes but pure, uncut disgust.

"Prudence Henson, you use filthy tricks like this to hurt someone, and you still think you deserve to be called human? When did you become this depraved?"

"If anything happens to Lillian because of what you've done, you'll answer for it."

He bent down and scooped Lillian into his arms.

Gently. Almost reverently.

"Hospital," he told his assistant.

The door slammed shut.

"Malcolm!"

I threw myself at it, but the lock had already clicked into place.

Edith Shepherd walked up to me, her smile frozen and sharp.

"Didn't see that coming, did you, Mrs. Delgado?"

"Looks like you've joined the list of women he's thrown away."

I stepped back instinctively. The burn on my lower back throbbed with every heartbeat.

The men's eyes found me. No more restraint. No more hesitation.