The Next Wife by Kaira Rouda (speld decodable readers txt) 📕

Engaged, John, oh my gosh! I’m the president of this company and your ex-wife. It sounds like a sad soap opera. We are the laughingstock of the entire business community. I’ve never been so ashamed. Tell her to find another job somewhere else. This is ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous. Feel free to resign, Kate. Maybe a change will do you good. Tish’s not going anywhere.”

I still feel a stab down to my core remembering the conversation. He was committed to this folly, engaged to this young woman, enjoying his embarrassing midlife crisis. He was picking her over everyone else, and over our business interests. That’s when I knew for certain our company was in danger, and I had to do something about it. I remember where I stood in my office, the smell of the lavender candle I had burning on my desk. I remember my stomach lurching and feeling as if I would be sick.

Most of all, I remember the smug look on John’s face, the smirk on his lips. I’d never felt so enraged, and alone.

Back then I’d summoned up my resolve, balled my hands into fists, and said, “I will never resign from this company. It is half mine, most of the big ideas were mine. You won’t drive me out with your stereotypical young fiancée prancing around with that obscene engagement ring. You are both a laughingstock. For the good of the company, you should get rid of her, or at the very least tell her to stay home and go shopping. I hear she’s good at that. Spending.”

Yes, low blow. I know now I should have attempted to stay as unemotional as possible. But the rumor mill, and my own daughter, brought me continual stories of Tish’s excessive spending. It was an open secret. Still is, I suppose.

“You’re a piece of work. Not sure how we lasted so long. But I’m glad we’re finished.” And with that, my former husband, the love of my life, turned around and walked out of my office, slamming the door behind him.

The War of the Roses, office-style, had begun.

CHAPTER 32

ASHLYN

I sit on the living room couch and search my dad’s phone. It turns up a lot of useful information. The most stunning is the number of times my parents were talking, and what they were talking about.

I think they were falling in love again, despite what my mom just told me. He’d changed her name in his contacts to Mabel, an old nickname or something I remembered hearing. But it was Mom’s number.

My mom’s texts were flirty and supportive. They arranged lunch dates, and she asked about his health and made sure he was taking time to exercise.

It’s sort of surreal. Their text exchanges were normal, as if my dad wasn’t married to Tish at all.

But Tish was reading Dad’s texts. Dad warned Mom as much. So of course Tish worried she was losing him. I would have.

I don’t like how you’re treating me. I know you’ve been talking to HER. Tish texted my dad, just a week before he died. I won’t put up with it. You’ve been warned.

And this, a few days later: How dare you John? I won’t stand for this.

And about my mom, She’s horrible. She’s watching me. She’s trying to break us up!

If I were reading these exchanges, I would have been worried about what my mom and dad were planning, too. My poor dad. He seemed so sad and stressed the last time we had any quality time together. It was lunch, a week before the IPO. We met for pizza, just like the old times. No Tish. No Mom. Just the two of us at our favorite table at Tommy’s.

“You look terrible, Dad,” I said as soon as I sat down. And he did.

“This thing should wrap up in a week, and then I’ll get some sleep, some peace, have some fun again,” Dad said.

“You and Tish, you aren’t getting along, are you?” I said, and watched his reaction. He hadn’t told me anything, but I’d been keeping an eye on everything at the office. When you’re an intern, you have plenty of time to poke around. Tish and Dad weren’t kissing in the hallway or holding hands in his office anymore. The horrible PDA other people in the office had told me about had stopped by the time I arrived for the summer, thank goodness. Whenever I stopped by to see Dad, the door to his office was closed. Before, it was open so he and Tish could flirt from her desk just outside his door.

“Oh, honey, it’s hard. I have made some mistakes. I need to fix things, but I’ve got to get through the IPO first,” he said.

My heart beat a bit faster, and I grinned like a he’d made a promise, because to me he had. I pull myself out of my memories when I hear the knock.

It’s Seth. I open the front door and step outside, joining him on the front porch.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” We’ve been best friends since elementary school. His presence now means a lot.

“I miss my dad,” I say, and a sob breaks out from deep inside me. “And I think Tish killed him.”

Seth takes a step back onto the porch, pushes his thick blond hair back with his hand. “Uh-huh. That’s a lot to unpack.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” I ask, pushing the tears aside. I need to focus, find proof. I’ll have plenty of time to cry for my dad.

“I do want to believe you, but that’s a lot to process. I think you need a hug, Detective,” Seth says.

The hug does feel good, but it doesn’t change my mind. “Fine, don’t believe me. I’ll find proof. I’ll outsmart her.” I’m going to keep watching her, keep digging into her past. I need to keep pushing her until she cracks. And she will. I know it.

Seth shakes his head. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.