"They attend private schools." Naomi immediately knew she should have stayed quiet.
"But it isn’t the best private school. I should be able to afford schools where the rich attend," Richard continued, growing more agitated. "Schools where my children can rub shoulders with the wealthy. Make the right connections. Be around people who matter."
Naomi’s fingers tightened around the edge of her chef jacket. Richard pointed at her.
"But I am stuck where I am because of you and your family drama."
Her family drama. The endless payments that somehow never seemed to reduce no matter how much money Naomi handed over.
Every month there was another figure. Another reason she had to work harder. Naomi shut her eyes briefly.
She was so tired. She worked mornings in one kitchen and evenings in another. She picked up extra shifts whenever anyone called in sick. She skipped meals, skipped outings, skipped anything that required money she could not justify spending.
And apparently, even all of that was not enough. Nothing was ever enough. If he really stopped paying his portion, she could not cover the debt.
She simply could not. And if he carried out the threat he had been holding over her head for years... Naomi’s throat tightened. "Uncle Richard..." Her voice broke.
Richard stared at her without sympathy. Naomi swallowed hard and forced herself to continue.
"I beg of you. Give me time. I will make things right."
Richard sighed. "Why do you always make me so angry?" he moved closer to her... "You already know why I do the things I do. Imagine what more I could do if you let me have a little taste of you."
Naomi stepped back. His flirting wasn’t new. Since she turned of age, he had constantly been trying to get in her pants. It was one of the reasons she had to find her own place to live. "Thank you for all you have done so far uncle. But I don’t think either of us should betray my aunt like that."
"You know your aunt ain’t nothing in the sheets. She can’t keep up with me."
"I... I have to get to work, please, Uncle Richard." Naomi stepped back again, putting more space between them. "I’m already running late. Those debts will not pay themselves."
Finally, he stepped back.
"I’ll talk to your fiancé." Richard adjusted his shirt. "I’ll see if I can smooth things over with him."
Relief rushed through her so fast it almost made her dizzy.
"Thank you, Uncle Richard."
Richard stopped near the door and looked back. "And this Dorian Heathcliffe you married... If you tell him anything about our family affairs, I will bury you."
Naomi nodded immediately. "Yes." She would have agreed to almost anything at that moment if it meant Richard would leave. "Yes, Uncle."
His eyes stayed on her. "One week. You have one week!"
Thankfully, he turned and walked out. The door slammed behind him so hard the frame shook. her knees weakened.
She turned and gripped the edge of the sofa. The tears came back almost immediately. "God..." Naomi bent forward, trying to pull air into her lungs.
A sob escaped anyway. She covered her mouth with one hand. She did not have time for this. She was already late.
Her life was apparently being held together with unpaid bills, bad decisions and one marriage certificate she had not even known existed. Naomi looked down. Her keys were still in her hand. She had been gripping them so tightly that the metal edges had dug into her palm. She loosened her fingers.
Small red marks covered her skin. Crying would solve nothing. Her phone chimed. She quickly pulled the phone out of her bag.
A message from her best friend.
Girl what the hell
There was a link attached beneath it. She tapped the link. The article loaded. Naomi stared at the screen.
Then slowly closed her eyes.
"Oh, come on."
A photograph of her filled the top of the page. It had been taken outside the courthouse. out of every photograph those reporters must have captured, they had selected the exact one where her mouth was half-open, her hair looked like it had lost an argument with humidity, and her face was twisted in fury.
It somehow made her look both murderous and constipated. The headline was worse.
CHEAP-LOOKING MYSTERY WIFE: WHO IS DORIAN HEATHCLIFFE’S NEW WOMAN?
"Cheap-looking?" She zoomed in. "Oh God..." Naomi sighed in complete exasperation.
They could at least have used a better picture. Was that too much to ask? If people were going to publicly destroy her life, basic photographic decency would have been appreciated.
Naomi looked like she had been dragged out of a discount store. Dorian looked like the cover of some ridiculous billionaire magazine. Naomi frowned at the screen then locked the phone.
Enough.
She shoved the phone into her bag. Dorian had better make this divorce quick. Preferably before the entire internet found out what toothpaste she used.
The debts her father had left behind had followed her into adulthood. She had started paying them as soon as she became legally old enough to earn properly.
And now someone had finally offered a way out. A man was willing to marry her in exchange for clearing away most of the debt.
Naomi had not loved the idea. She had not even particularly liked the idea. But she had bills. And a family history that could destroy what little life she had managed to build.
So she had agreed. And then Dorian Heathcliffe happened. Or rather, apparently Dorian Heathcliffe had happened three months ago.
She had successfully kept every detail of the accidental marriage away from everyone close to her. She had planned to quietly get the divorce, destroy the evidence of the stupidest drunken decision of her life, and continue pretending Vegas had never happened.
Then she had ruined everything with her own stupidity. Truth be told, she hadn’t known Dorian was that newsworthy.
*****
Dorian was flipping pancakes when Naomi walked into the kitchen. She was barely awake. She shuffled down the hallway, rubbing one eye, completely unaware that anything about this particular morning was unusual.
The smell of pancakes registered first.
Then coffee.
Her sleepy brain supplied the most logical explanation. "Tessa... what are you doing here this early?"