To put it bluntly, I was like a firecracker—one spark and boom, I exploded. I could scream, fight, and argue like hell, but once all the rage had burned through, that’s when the pain started to creep in.
Cameron had known me for twenty-seven, twenty-eight years, so he knew how I operated. Right now, I was blinded by fury, so much so that I didn’t even feel the sharp pain gripping my chest like broken ribs.
Because Cameron worried that I’d do something insane, he ran after me.
“Linda! Stop! Don’t be impulsive—listen to me!”
He caught up and yanked me to the side.
“Get out of my way! I swear, if I don’t rip that adulterous pair apart today, I won’t be called Linda Evans!”
“Can you calm down for just one second? What good is storming in there going to do? Thinking about it—Jim’s been a model husband all these years, following your every word. You think he’s going to admit anything now? You said he was just having a meal with Claire, right? They’re colleagues. You don’t have proof, and even if you did—look at your house, your car, the property—whose name is on it all? Jim’s. If you go blow up now, you’re just handing all those years of wealth and hard work straight to the mistress on a silver platter. Wow, Linda Evans. How generous of you.”
His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I froze. The fire fizzled out. My whole body went limp, like a deflated balloon. Tears slid down my cheeks, sparkling like broken glass in the sunlight.
Cameron freaked out the second he saw me cry.
“Oh hell no—Linda, don’t cry! Why are you crying? Jim just cheated—he didn’t dump you! This isn’t like you! I always thought you were a wild card, all fire and no feelings. Now look at you, doing your best tragic princess act. What is this, The Princess Diaries?”
“Shut up! You’ve been jealous of me since we were kids, haven’t you?!”
I was heartbroken, but somehow Cameron’s nonsense knocked the edge off my sadness.
He raised both hands and smirked. “Fine, fine. But let me be serious for a second. If you really want to keep living with him, the smart move is to take care of the mistress quietly. Jim Jackson clearly doesn’t want to divorce, otherwise he wouldn’t bother hiding anything. He’s still got feelings for you. Don’t you think?”
His words stabbed me right in the ego.
I lunged and grabbed him by the collar, practically growling, “Cameron, if anyone knows me, it’s you. Do I look like the type who’d swallow my pride and forgive a cheating husband? Do I look like someone who takes back second-hand goods?”
“But that man isn’t second-hand! He’s the original, still in the packaging—you’re the one who’s been holding onto him all these years! If anyone’s dealing with second-hand leftovers, it’s her! Look, I’m saying this for your sake: things may not be as bad as they seem. Take a breath, act like nothing’s wrong, and watch him carefully. If he really wants to throw everything away—then I’ll personally help you beat the crap out of him, no questions asked!”
I released Cameron, gasping for breath, my vision going red again.
How was I supposed to live like this?
My trusted best friend—was sleeping with my husband behind my back! In front of Mary, no less! Everyone in our social circle would know that I, Linda Evans, had been betrayed.
And worst of all? I couldn’t get the image of Jim looking at Claire with that lovestruck, puppy-eyed gaze out of my head. It made my stomach churn.
We couldn’t go on like this.
But even if we ended in divorce—I would never let them be happy together. Not in this life!
I clenched my fists, and a dangerous spark lit up in my eyes—like a soldier marching into war.
Cameron caught the look and grinned. “Now that’s the Linda I know. If you want revenge, there’s a million ways to do it. Just depends on which weapon you want to use.”
I turned to him, eyes pitiful, lips trembling. “Cameron, you have to help me.”
That one look knocked the wind right out of him. He groaned.
“Ugh, why? I’m not your emotional support animal!”
“Are you in my team or not?”
I grabbed his collar again, and this time, I meant business—one wrong answer and I’d have him strung up like a roast duck.
I knew I was being pushy. But seriously—who else could I turn to?
He might be sarcastic and dramatic and annoying as hell…
…but he was all I had.