Page 46 of The Husband I Left

Mother was still in seclusion, mortified by the dancers at the graduation party. She spoke to me in clipped, icy tones, making it clear that she held me personally responsible for failing to control my wife. But she did, after much persuasion, provide me with the guest list from the party; specifically, the names of Genny’s friends who had been there.

What came next was not pretty. My encounter with Kylie was particularly painful. I’d tracked her down to the coffee shop where she worked, waited patiently in line, rehearsing what I would say. When I reached the counter, her expression shifted from friendly to glacial in an instant.

“What do you want?” she asked, not bothering to hide her hostility.

“I need to find Genny,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Please. I’m worried about her.”

“She doesn’t want to be found,” Kylie replied. “Especially not by you.”

“If you could just tell her that I—“

That’s when it happened. While handing an order to another customer, Kylie’s hand “slipped,” sending a full cup of coffee cascading down the front of my shirt. I yelped, jumping back as the liquid stained the expensive fabric.

“Oops,” she said, clearly not the least bit sorry. “My bad.”

I left the coffee shop with a ruined shirt and no information about Genny’s whereabouts.

Harlow was next. I learned she worked as a waitress at an upscale restaurant downtown and got a table in her section. She recognized me immediately.

“I‘m not telling you where she is,” she said before I could even speak.

“Please,” I remember saying, “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“She’s fine,” Harlow replied, setting down a glass of water with enough force that it sloshed over the edge. “No, thanks to you.”

When she returned with my drink order, her hand “slipped”, depositing the entire contents of a martini directly onto my lap. The cold liquid soaked through immediately, making it look like I’d had an unfortunate accident.

“So sorry,” she said with a smile that was all teeth. “Let me get you some napkins.”

The napkins, of course, did nothing to help. I left the restaurant damp, smelling of gin, and still no closer to finding my wife.

After that, I gave up on Genny’s friends. The message was clear: I was the enemy, and they were going to protect her.

My chair creaks as I shift position, pulled back to the present by a knock at the office door. Before I can respond, Mrs. Stewart pokes her head in, her expression unhappy.

“Mr. Sinclair,” she says, her voice tight. “You have someone here who is rather… insistent on seeing you.”

My heart leaps stupidly in my chest. “Is it—“

“It‘s Ms. Warren,” she says, and I deflate immediately. “I told her you weren‘t receiving visitors, but she—“

Before Mrs. Stewart can finish, Victoria pushes past her into the room.

“That will be all, Mrs. Stewart,” I say, waving her away. “I’ll handle this.”

Mrs. Stewart gives Victoria a look that could curdle milk before retreating, closing the door behind her.

Victoria stops in front of my desk, hands on her hips. “Enough is enough, Oliver.”

“Hello to you too.”

“You have been ignoring me for more than a week.”

“I certainly have.”

“I have been trying to contact you.”

“I know that. I’ve been ignoring your attempts.”