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My Husband Saved My Life. His Mistress Knew the Script
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Three years into our marriage, Julian Whitmore froze my bank cards six times for his childhood sweetheart, Vanessa Lane. I smashed up seven of his cars. The last time, he stood at the garage door with Vanessa behind him, shielding her: "Come back when you've learned to respect her." I threw my wedding ring in his face and moved out that night. Two weeks later, the hotel I was staying at caught fire. Julian ran into the burning building and carried me down seventeen floors on his back. When the stairs collapsed, he pushed me clear and was buried underneath. In the hospital, he held my bandaged hand in his burned one and begged me through tears: "I've sent Vanessa away. Babe, let's not get divorced." I withdrew the divorce petition. For the next four years, he never let me suffer the slightest hurt. Everyone said that fire had burned his heart back to me. On our seventh wedding anniversary, I got a call from a preschool. "Your son hurt a classmate. Could you please come in?" I thought they had the wrong number. I don't have a child. But the woman on the line read off my name, my address, and Julian's phone number without a single mistake. When I got there, Vanessa was sitting in the office with a little boy in her arms. The boy pointed at me and asked: "Daddy, is this the lady who makes money for our family?" Julian clapped a hand over his mouth. The enrollment form lay open on the desk. Under Father, it said Julian Whitmore. Under Mother, it said my name. Vanessa lowered her head and explained: "Julian and I never got married, so my son couldn't get into this preschool. I had to borrow your identity, Nora." Julian took my hand: "It's just a name on a form. It's not like you lost anything." I looked at that four-year-old boy and suddenly laughed. Four years ago, Julian said he was afraid having a baby would be dangerous for me, and he talked me into ending our pregnancy. So it turned out he hadn't been against becoming a father. It was just that, by then, someone else was already having his kids. I pushed the form back in front of him. "Put her name down." "And while you're at it, I'm giving her back the spot as Mrs. Whitmore too."
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1
Three years into our marriage, Julian Whitmore froze my bank cards six times for his childhood sweetheart, Vanessa Lane.
I smashed up seven of his cars.
The last time, he stood at the garage door with Vanessa behind him, shielding her:
"Come back when you've learned to respect her."
I threw my wedding ring in his face and moved out that night.
Two weeks later, the hotel I was staying at caught fire.
Julian ran into the burning building and carried me down seventeen floors on his back.
When the stairs collapsed, he pushed me clear and was buried underneath.
In the hospital, he held my bandaged hand in his burned one and begged me through tears:
"I've sent Vanessa away. Babe, let's not get divorced."
I withdrew the divorce petition.
For the next four years, he never let me suffer the slightest hurt.
Everyone said that fire had burned his heart back to me.
On our seventh wedding anniversary, I got a call from a preschool.
"Your son hurt a classmate. Could you please come in?"
I thought they had the wrong number.
I don't have a child.
But the woman on the line read off my name, my address, and Julian's phone number without a single mistake.
When I got there, Vanessa was sitting in the office with a little boy in her arms.
The boy pointed at me and asked:
"Daddy, is this the lady who makes money for our family?"
Julian clapped a hand over his mouth.
The enrollment form lay open on the desk.
Under Father, it said Julian Whitmore.
Under Mother, it said my name.
Vanessa lowered her head and explained:
"Julian and I never got married, so my son couldn't get into this preschool. I had to borrow your identity, Nora."
Julian took my hand:
"It's just a name on a form. It's not like you lost anything."
I looked at that four-year-old boy and suddenly laughed.
Four years ago, Julian said he was afraid having a baby would be dangerous for me, and he talked me into ending our pregnancy.
So it turned out he hadn't been against becoming a father.
It was just that, by then, someone else was already having his kids.
I pushed the form back in front of him.
"Put her name down."
"And while you're at it, I'm giving her back the spot as Mrs. Whitmore too."
...
The color drained from Julian's face little by little.
"Nora Hayes, do you know what you're saying?"
"I do."
I pulled my hand out of his grip and turned to the preschool director.
"This child is not mine. Please pull the documents that were submitted at enrollment. I need copies for my records."
Vanessa shot to her feet.
"Nora, the boy is right here. Whatever you want to say, let's take it outside."
She reached for me, and I stepped aside.
"A minute ago, when you had him call me 'the lady,' you didn't stop to think how little he is?"
Her eyes went red, and she looked at Julian.
Julian moved half a step forward to block me.
The same old move.
Back then, every time I saw it, I'd lose my mind.
This time I just walked around him to the desk.
The director hesitated, then brought out the file.
Besides the enrollment form, there was a copy of my ID, a copy of our marriage certificate, and a photo from a family day event.
In the photo, Julian was holding the boy, and Vanessa had her arm hooked through his.
Underneath were the names of the family of three.
In the mother's slot was Nora Hayes.
My fingertips went cold.
Last June, Julian had said his company was having a team-building retreat, no spouses allowed.
So that was him coming here to play dad to someone else's kid.
The director's voice dropped.
"Ms. Lane always said Nora was her nickname. Mr. Whitmore called her that too, so we never..."
"It's not your fault."
I took out my phone and photographed every page.
"Now that you know, please correct it. As for the falsified documents, I'll have someone handle that."
"Nora."
Julian pressed his hand down on the file folder, his face finally darkening.
"You really have to push a child out of school?"
"I'm asking you to fix fake documents. How does that turn into me pushing him?"
The boy suddenly charged over, grabbed the cup of water off the desk, and threw it at me.
Warm water splashed all over me.
The rim of the cup hit my wrist bone, and the pain made my fingers curl.
"Bad lady! Don't you be mean to my mommy!"
Julian scooped up the boy, and the first thing he did was check his hands.
"Did you burn yourself?"
The office went quiet for a few seconds.
Only then did he turn to look at me.
"Nora..."
I pulled out a tissue and wiped the water off my sleeve.
"You've taught him well."
Vanessa held the boy tight, her voice thick with tears.
"Nora, he's just really scared."
"I haven't even touched any of you, and he's this scared."
I tossed the wet tissue into the trash.
"So if I actually pressed charges, would you have to teach him to pick up a knife next?"
Julian's face looked ugly.
I didn't look at him again. I picked up my bag to leave.
But the director stopped me.
"Ms. Hayes, there's one more thing we need to verify."
She pulled another form from the back of the file.
"When the boy got hurt, our nurse couldn't reach his father, so she called the number on file for you. We wanted to check whether the number had been entered wrong, and we found two children registered in the file."
I stopped in my tracks.
Julian reached for it.
I got my hand on the paper first.
Same father. Same mother.
The second photo was of a little girl in pigtails.
"Boy-girl twins?"
I heard my own voice.
Vanessa lowered her head and wiped her tears.
Julian's lips moved, but he said nothing.
The answer was clear enough.
I looked down at the date of birth.
October 16.
Four years ago, on October 16, I lay in the operating room, clutching the hem of his shirt and begging him.
"Can we not do this?"
Chapter 2
He kissed my forehead.
"You smoked too much, and you've been on medication. The doctor says the risk is too high."
"We'll have another one."
When I came out of the anesthesia, the only person in the room was the nurse's aide.
He texted that he'd gone to get me some chicken soup.
He didn't come back until midnight, carrying an insulated container.
I was in so much pain I couldn't get up, and I was still worried he was worn out. I kept telling him to get into bed and sleep.
So that was how busy he'd been that day.
First he got rid of my baby, then he had to rush off to welcome a son and a daughter.
"When she gave birth, were you there?"
Julian reached out to touch me.
"Let's go home first."
I stared at him and asked again.
His throat worked.
"She doesn't have any other family."
I nodded.
"Got it."
Vanessa suddenly spoke up.
"Nora, I know you're hurting, but raising two kids on my own hasn't been easy these past few years."
I looked at the bag in her hand.
Last month, Julian had given me one just like it.
He'd said he had someone wait on a list for over half a year, and they only managed to get one.
"No, it hasn't been easy."
I took a photo of the girl's registration form.
"You even had to use my name."
Julian followed me out to the parking lot and grabbed the car door.
"I never meant for you to find out, and I never wanted her to affect our life."
"Enrolling the kids under my name doesn't count as affecting it?"
"That's only because this preschool has partnership spots through your company!"
The moment it was out, he froze too.
I slowly raised my eyes.
Three years ago, I'd fought to get a block of enrollment spots for my employees' kids.
He'd found that kind of thing too petty and never once asked about it.
So it turned out he remembered.
And he'd used it here.
"Let go of the door."
"Nora, Mom and Dad are waiting for us at home tonight. It's our seventh anniversary. Don't make them worry too."
I looked at him.
"Do they know?"
He went quiet.
Right then, my phone rang.
My mother-in-law's voice came through the receiver.
"Once you've picked up the kids, come home early. Vanessa has a weak stomach, don't let her wait on an empty stomach."
Julian lunged for the phone.
I'd already hit speaker.
"Mom, which kids do you mean?"
The other end went silent.
I went back to the Whitmore house anyway.
When I walked in, my mother-in-law was having someone clear two children's high chairs away from the dining table.
When she saw me, her hand stopped.
"Nora, you're just in time..."
"Leave them."
I set my bag down.
"Let me see how you all usually sit."
There were six place settings on the table.
The two children's bowls were already filled with warm chicken soup.
A bouquet of flowers sat by my seat, with a card that said Happy Seventh Anniversary.
They hadn't even forgotten the things meant to keep me happy.
My mother-in-law glanced at Julian, who had followed me in.
"Let's eat first. Whatever it is, we can talk it over slowly."
I pulled out a chair and sat down.
"How many years have the kids been calling you Grandma?"
The smile on her face slipped.
"Children can't go without knowing their own family."
"Then what am I?"
"You're Julian's wife, of course."
She sat down beside me and lowered her voice.
"Vanessa had her tubes tied right after the birth. She won't fight for anything more. Don't worry, you're the only daughter-in-law this family has."
I looked at her, and I finally understood why these four years had gone so smoothly.
They'd divided it all up for me long ago.
I'd be the wife, keep up appearances, earn the spots.
Vanessa would be the mother, with a son and a daughter.
As long as I didn't know, everyone was happy.
Julian put a document in front of me.
It was a gift deed for a house on the Southside.
"Consider it my way of making it up to you."
I opened it.
The house had been bought five years ago.
I'd seen the floor plan.
Back then, I'd just found out I was pregnant. Julian said that once we got the keys, he'd save the south-facing room for the baby.
"Who lives there now?"
He didn't answer.
"You're making up for the baby I didn't get to keep with a house they've been living in?"
His hand tightened on the document.
"I can buy another one."
I pushed the deed away.
"I want a divorce. My lawyer will contact you tomorrow."
My mother-in-law slammed her hand on the table.
"Nora Hayes! Julian nearly burned to death for you, and now you want to break up this family over something like this?"
Julian stood where he was and didn't stop her.
His right hand hung at his side, the ugly scar showing past his cuff.
Every time a fight reached its end, that scar got brought out.
I stared at it for a few seconds, then rolled up my left sleeve.
From my wrist to my forearm, there was a burn scar too.
"When the stairs collapsed that day, I didn't leave him behind and run either."
Chapter 3
My mother-in-law choked on her words.
"He saved me, and I saved him."
I let my sleeve fall.
"I don't owe him my whole life."
I went upstairs to get my documents.
In the safe by the bed, my marriage certificate was still there, but my ID was gone.
Julian followed me up and stood in front of the safe door.
"You're not thinking straight right now. I'll hold on to it for you."
I looked at him.
"What gives you the right to take my documents?"
"Once you've thought it through, I'll give it back."
I dialed 911.
He grabbed my wrist.
I sucked in a breath at the pain.
The spot where the cup had hit me earlier had already swollen up.
When he saw the bruise, his hand suddenly let go.
Just then, a document envelope slid out of the open safe.
It was printed with the name of the hospital from four years ago.
He bent to pick it up, but I got to it first.
The first page was my pre-op exam report.
Fourteen weeks pregnant.
The last line of the findings said, clear as day:
Fetus viable. Recommend follow-up.
"Didn't you say we couldn't keep it?"
Julian reached out.
"That's not the full medical record."
I stepped back and took a picture of the report.
Under it were a payment receipt and a surgical consent form.
Procedure: Induced termination of pregnancy.
On the signature line was my name.
The letters were crooked.
I remembered now.
He'd held a stack of papers and told me it would be dangerous not to go through with it.
I'd asked him if we could try another hospital.
He said he'd already gotten the best specialist.
I had just barely made it out of a fire alive, and seeing him covered in burns, I felt guilty for even doubting him.
"Tomorrow I'll go to the hospital and request my records myself."
I put the papers in my bag.
Julian blocked the door completely.
"Nora, back then nobody could guarantee the baby would be healthy. I just picked the safest option for you."
"Then why did you try to grab it just now?"
He had no answer.
A child's crying came from downstairs.
Vanessa had come in with the twins.
The little girl stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up and calling for her daddy.
The moment Julian turned his head, I walked past him.
But Vanessa stopped me.
"Nora, don't blame Julian. I'm the one who begged him."
She glanced at my bag.
"What happened back then is in the past. Your body has healed, you'll have other chances..."
I raised my hand and slapped her.
The living room went silent.
She held her face as tears welled up.
Julian rushed down and grabbed my arm.
"Nora Hayes!"
I looked up at him.
"Go ahead, call the police."
He froze.
"Didn't you always love calling the cops for her?"
Vanessa was crying so hard she was shaking, and she leaned into his arms.
I turned to my mother-in-law, who had followed us down.
"You two, take the kids to their room."
My mother-in-law opened her mouth to snap at me.
"Are you sure you want your grandchildren to hear this?"
Her face changed, and she led the two kids away.
I looked back at Vanessa.
"All I said was that there was something wrong with the exam report. How did you know I was asking about what happened back then?"
Her crying stopped short.
"Julian told me..."
"Told you what? The day I had the surgery, weren't you busy giving birth?"
Julian's grip on my arm slowly tightened.
I took my phone out of my bag.
On the screen, the recording was still running.
I had hit start the moment I found the report.
His eyes landed on the screen, and his face darkened.
"Turn it off."
I didn't move.
He reached for it, and I held the phone behind my back.
"Touch me again and I'll go out front and scream. Nobody keeps their dignity tonight."
He finally stopped.
I walked to the entryway and changed my shoes.
Behind me, Vanessa suddenly cried out:
"But you can't blame it all on us! Back then she was ready to divorce you, and who knew after one fire she'd decide not to leave!"
"Shut up!"
Julian's voice exploded.
I held the doorknob and slowly turned around.
He had never yelled at Vanessa like that.
"Why can't she say it?"
I looked at Julian.
Every bit of color had drained from Vanessa's face.
He stood in front of her.
"She's upset. She doesn't know what she's saying."
"Then let her finish."
I took a step forward.
"What do you mean, after one fire I decided not to leave?"
Vanessa avoided my eyes.
Julian reached out to pull me back, lowering his voice.
"Stop making a scene in front of the kids."
The kids had been taken upstairs long ago.
He couldn't even be bothered to change his excuse.
Suddenly I felt very tired.
Chapter 4
I didn't want to ask him whether he loved me anymore, and I didn't want to hear him tell the story of that scar for the four-thousandth time.
I stepped back and pulled the door open.
"My lawyer will contact you tomorrow."
He came after me.
I got in the car, locked the doors, and started the engine.
In the rearview mirror, he stood at the bottom of the steps. For the first time, he didn't turn around to comfort Vanessa.
It wasn't until I'd driven away from the Whitmore house that I realized I'd been shaking the whole time.
I pulled over and sent everything to my lawyer, the recording and all the photos I'd taken.
She called back almost right away.
Four years ago, she was the one who had filed my divorce petition.
After hearing it all, she asked only one thing.
"Are you going to withdraw it again this time?"
"No."
I bit down on the inside of my cheek until the trembling slowly stopped.
"And the medical records from back then. I want all of them."
She agreed, then told me to find somewhere safe to stay first.
I booked a different hotel.
Before checking in, I scrolled through my contacts looking for my old private doctor, and instead I came across a number I hadn't called in a long time.
Walt.
Julian's old driver.
Four years ago, when I was living at the hotel, he was the one who brought me clean clothes and my medicine.
Not long after the fire, he quit and moved back to his hometown.
Julian said Walt's father was sick. I even had someone pay him an extra six months' wages.
What Vanessa had said earlier kept echoing in my ears.
I pressed call.
It rang for a long time before he picked up.
"Mrs. Whitmore?"
"Uncle Walt, I want to ask you about the day of the fire four years ago."
The line went silent.
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"You were the one who drove Julian there that day, weren't you?"
"...Yes."
"Why did he come to the hotel?"
Julian had told me he'd been searching for me like a man gone mad, and that he had only just found out where I was staying when he saw smoke coming from the upper floors.
But on my very first day there, Walt had come by to drop things off.
He had always known where I was staying.
Only now did I realize that in four years, I had never once asked that question.
"Uncle Walt, tell me the truth."
A long sigh came through the phone.
"Ma'am, there are some things you're better off not knowing."
The tears came all at once.
"That's what all of you say."
"Putting someone else's kids under my name, that was for my own good too. Tricking me onto the operating table, that was for my own good too."
"Uncle Walt, what else is there that I'm not allowed to know?"
His breathing grew heavy.
After a long while, he said:
"I didn't leave back then because I wanted to."
"Mr. Whitmore took the memory card out of my dashcam, gave me a sum of money, and told me never to come back."
My fingertips went cold.
"But the car had broken down that day, and before that I'd sent a video to the mechanic."
"The one he took wasn't the only copy."
Ten minutes later, a video came through on my phone.
It was shot in front of the hotel.
In the footage, Julian's car was parked by the curb.
He didn't get out right away. Instead, he tilted his head, listening to the person in the passenger seat.
That person was Vanessa.
She was wearing a loose, oversized coat, and her belly was already clearly showing.
The timestamp in the top right corner was twenty-three minutes earlier than the time the fire started, according to the fire department's report.
I held the phone steady, and it took me several tries to turn on the sound.
First came Vanessa's tearful complaining.
"As long as she refuses to divorce you, I have to hide away with this belly every single day?"
Julian said something, too low to make out.
She asked again:
"Then does what you promised me still count?"
In the footage, Julian looked up at the hotel.
Then I heard his voice.
"Just let her suffer a little."
"I'll get her out before the fire starts inside."
My breath stopped short.
The video kept going.
Vanessa stroked her belly and suddenly smiled.
"Then call her now."
"I want to hear who she begs first when she finds out the door's been locked from the outside."
The next second, a familiar ringtone sounded in the video.
It was the call Julian had made to me four years ago.
