I stared at the diamonds on that bracelet, each one catching the light, each tiny sparkle like a needle finding its way into my chest. The pain nearly buckled my knees, but I kept my composure.
"So what?"
I plucked the marriage certificate from her hands. The name in the wife's column read: Lucille Fox. I looked up at her carefully made-up face, saw her obvious shock, and smiled.
"Are you trying to tell me that after fifteen years with Julian, it's finally my turn to step aside so you can live the good life?"
"Lucille." I traced my finger over her photo on the certificate and smiled again. "What makes you think I'd hand over everything I've poured my blood and sweat into?"
Lucille's composure cracked. She lunged for the certificate, but I sidestepped her. She stumbled, crashed into a cabinet, and let out a shriek.
"Maya Cobb!"
"Have you lost your mind?!"
The mask was off. Lucille Fox was screaming at me now, every pretense of elegance gone.
"What, are you going to destroy my marriage? You want to keep being the dirty little secret? Is that it?!"
"Have you no shame?!"
Before she could charge at me again, I'd already pulled out my phone, snapped a photo of the marriage certificate, and sent it to Julian with a message.
Julian.
I hear you got married.
How come I wasn't invited to the wedding?
"Babe!"
The call had already connected.
Julian's voice echoed through the living room.
"I can explain!"
"This is all a misunderstanding!"
"Babe!"
There was rustling on Julian's end, followed by the sound of a car door slamming shut. "I'm coming to you right now."
"Don't rush."
"Whatever it is, we'll talk when I get there."
Julian was still talking.
Lucille had already lost it, screaming into the phone like a woman unhinged.
"Julian James! Whose husband are you?! Who are you protecting?!"
Lucille's shrill, crumbling voice echoed through the living room. I took another slow look around the apartment. The decor was warm, inviting. Pink curtains framed the windows. A cream-colored sofa sat in the center. An entire wall was lined with shelves of collectible figurines, and even the refrigerator was decorated with little good-luck magnets and holiday cards.
A pair of blue cartoon slippers sat by the shoe rack, clearly the matching set to the ones on Lucille's feet.
Even the off-white walls were covered with photos of Lucille. Tucked between them were a few shots of Julian from behind.
It was obvious.