After His Mistress Framed Me, My Husband Lost Everything novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Link
Joanna sends Deanna a link to the mistress's account of Trophy Wives photos, Gavin stands with the mistress in front of his whole company, Deanna sets down her ring, and her cards are frozen before she reaches the street.
Joanna's text came while I was rinsing the coffee pot.
"Deanna, you need to see this. Sit down first."
Under it was a link to an account called @kinsley.draper.live.
Kinsley ran communications at my husband's company.
At the holiday party she had told me my lemon tart was the best thing she'd eaten all year.
I opened the link standing up.
The top post had two million views.
It was titled "Trophy Wives With No Ambition."
Below it were photos of me.
They weren't the ones I let the company use at events.
They were me on our couch in sweatpants with no makeup.
Me at the stove with flour on my cheek.
Me asleep on the sofa with my mouth open and a blanket crooked over my knees.
That last one I knew.
Joanna had come over Sunday with soup because I had a cold, and I had fallen asleep while she did the dishes.
The caption said: "Some women marry money and call it a personality. This one takes naps."
The comments had passed ten thousand.
Someone had tagged Hallstrom Home Systems.
Someone else had written: "Poor Gavin."
The newest post was eight minutes old.
It showed two coffees on a desk I knew, beside a watch I had bought for my husband's thirtieth birthday.
The caption said: "He tells me the best part of his day is when his wife doesn't call."
My phone rang in my hand.
"Don't comment on anything," Joanna said. "Don't call Gavin and don't call her. I've already screenshotted all two hundred posts and reported the account."
I had not finished reading the first post.
I wondered for a second how she'd had the time.
Then I decided it was just Joanna, who always had a folder ready.
"Come to my place," she said. "I'll make eggs."
"I'm going to his office."
"Deanna, wait for me."
I hung up.
Gavin's phone went to voicemail. A minute later he texted: "In a meeting. Please do nothing. I'll handle K. She isn't stable."
I drove downtown anyway.
On Tuesdays Hallstrom Home Systems held its all-hands in the atrium, and two hundred people stood under the glass ceiling with their phones out.
Gavin was at the podium with his sleeves rolled up.
Kinsley stood beside him in a pale pink blazer, crying.
When I came through the doors, the room turned toward me together.
Nobody said a word.
"Deanna," Kinsley said. Her voice shook. "I never wanted it to come out like this. I'm so sorry."
Gavin put his arm around her shoulders.
He did it in front of everyone, and he didn't look at me while he did it.
"Deanna, let's keep this civil," he said into the microphone. "Kinsley has been getting messages for weeks."
She held up her phone for the room.
The screen showed a thread from my number.
I know what you are. Watch your back. I will find you.
"I didn't send those," I said.
"There's a record," Gavin said. "I've seen it."
"Gavin, I was at home with a cold."
"Then the kind thing, the honest thing, is to apologize to Kinsley right here. After that we go home and talk."
He had told me to do nothing.
Then he had stood her next to him in front of two hundred people and waited for me to walk in.
I looked at the phones.
A man by the stairs was filming me with both hands.
A woman from accounting, who had signed my wedding card, looked at the floor.
"Do you tell her the best part of your day is when I don't call?" I asked.
Gavin kept his voice level.
"I'm asking you not to make this worse."
That was his answer.
I took off my wedding ring.
It was loose on my finger from the cold, and it came off easily.
I walked to the podium, set the ring on the wood in front of his microphone, and heard it click.
Kinsley covered her mouth.
"Keep your apology," I said to her. "And keep him."
So I stepped out.
The cold hit my face in the parking structure, and I stood by my car and breathed.
My phone buzzed with a banking alert.
Our joint account had been closed by the primary holder.
A second alert said both of my cards had been suspended.
Then came a text from Gavin.
"Come home when you're ready to apologize, and I'll open them back up."
Under it, a minute later, Joanna wrote: "Don't try your cards anywhere. Come straight to me."
I hadn't told her about the cards.
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