Page 5 of The Bad Husband

Money likes money, my mother used to say.

I can’t imagine true love united these two.

Besides, who’s looking for authentic love these days?

With that thought in mind, I follow her into a large room with a wide bed adorned with white and blue pillows.

A lavish terrace with a wicker garden set and a white umbrella stretches across the stunning view of the pool and the backyard.

Livia shows me the things around the room, and I nod along, my mind still focused on this story.

I’ve always considered myself hard to impress.

Even when my parents made a lot of money, I didn’t like to splurge––I didn’t know how to, nor did I want to––or spend a lot of time on decorating a particular room, but this is nice.

Someone has obviously paid attention to the interior and exterior of this house, and if it wasn’t Henrietta, it must’ve been her new man.

What was his name again?

Uh… Surreptitiously, I pull out my phone and check the wedding invitation on the screen.

I barely suppress a smile. I’m bad. So, so bad. Really bad.

Oh. Damon.

His name is Damon. Damon West.

Too bad I haven’t spent some time looking him up.

Hmm… I always thought he was a younger version of my father.

All right looking, maybe not bald like my father, or wearing glasses. Selling something for a living.

I was always under the impression that this man had a business. Never knew exactly what kind of business he was running. Never cared. She is so flashy; I wrongly believed she’d pick someone gullible like my father.

I should’ve done my homework and learned more about him.

“All right,” Livia says once she finishes showing me the bathroom and the walk-in closet where a couch could easily fit against the wall. “Dinner is served at seven. We serve food till eight o’clock. There’s no staff in the house after that. If you need food, you go to the kitchen. There’s always something in the refrigerator. You can also order, but make sure you instruct the delivery person to leave the food at the gate. Damon doesn’t like strangers on the property, especially at night, unless they’ve been cleared by him, which is not possible in this case. Henrietta rarely has dinner at the house, and Damon eats at the club most of the time.”

“The club?”

She smiles.

“Yes. He owns a club.”

“That means… it will only be me?”

“Probably. We set the dinner table per his instructions. Sometimes, he arrives late at night with his men, and they always like to have some food in the refrigerator or the oven.”

“So I’ll have dinner by myself?” I ask, incredulous, a bit amused by their arrangement.

“Precisely. I’m sure you’ll have an enjoyable experience.”

“Do we eat inside?”

She nods in response.

“We can also set the table on the terrace if you’d like.”