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If he happens to be a family man, too, that’s…even better.
“Make sure you get him something expensive,” Kordin says, his words drawn out. “Something that’ll make a splash. I have a reputation to uphold.”
Kordin gives notoriously generous gifts. They’re generous in that they cost a lot of money. He doesn’t actually put any thought into what the recipient might want, only how good the gift will make him look.
For Reece, I think I might be able to accomplish both.
“I have the perfect gift in mind.”
“Put both our names on it,” Kordin reminds me just before his eyes close.
“Of course.” I wait thirty seconds to ask, “Anything else?”
His jaw goes slack and his head rolls to one side.
“Kordin? Anything else?”
A quiet snore is my only answer.
I’m balancing on the platforms of my stilettos to dart over to close the door. Officer Tyler’s current whereabouts may be accounted for but the nurses’ aren’t.
Back by Kordin’s bed, I retrieve the clear tape from my purse, and use it to tape his eyelids open, then hold his phone up to his face. The facial recognition works, letting me right in. I go straight to the internet browser and search his history. An online bank appears multiple times, so I click on the link, absolutely praying that Kordin is dumb enough to auto-save his passwords. Somewhere on his desktop, Kordin has a folder with all his passwords, so maybe…
No. No luck. The website login pops up empty and doesn’t offer any suggestions when I start typing his email.
I take a picture of the web address with my own phone before clearing the browser and tab. Next, I skim his messages, instantly finding the woman from the video chat Reece crashed. I thumb through all photos sent between the two, but don’t find anything useful. It’s mostly just tits. So many tits. Kordin is a self-proclaimed tits-man.
I don’t know what he saw in me because I have none.
The thread below hers though, that’s where I find something.
While it became obvious after my diagnosis that Kordin was cheating on me, I’d never seen any of his mistresses in person…until last month when a speeding ticket came in the mail from a traffic camera, this one in a school zone. My name and address were on the envelope, but when I opened it, the vehicle pictured wasn’t my Range Rover. It wasn’t even Kordin’s Porsche. It was a Mustang Mach-E, a car I’d never even seen before, let alone driven or purchased. And yet, it was registered to me, so I had to have bought it.
Unless someone else did.
In addition to having the make, model, color, and license plate number, I also had the exact time and location the photo was taken. Every day at eight thirty in the morning, I waited at the same spot. Two days later I caught sight of the Mustang SUV and followed it to see just who the fuck had stolen my identity. The driver was a woman, a well-endowed woman with a son. A son she dropped off at school before speeding back home to meet with none other than Kordin Debrosse.
The person who stole my identity…was my husband, and he used it to make a large purchase, possibly more than one purchase, for another woman, possibly more than one woman.
In the traffic cam images, the license plate frame was an after-market one Kordin’s girlfriend clearly bought. But in one of these sexts she sent Kordin of her naked on the hood, underneath her visibly unmaintained asshole, is the original frame with the name of an online car company.
So he used an online car company. The bank we use for our joint account is local and I’d know if he was making payments on another vehicle, or bought one outright, which means he’s definitely got a separate account through the online bank.
I take a picture of the spread-eagle photo, too.
If I had his laptop, or even just the hard drive, I could access that account and possibly whatever else Kordin might be up to.
I hear someone ask Officer Tyler if he’s feeling all right, telling me he’s finished exhuming his digestive tract already, so I hurry to return Kordin’s phone. Before I can remove the tape though, the door behind me opens. Without thought, I touch my lips to Kordin’s as I let out a throaty moan.
“Oh geez. I’m so sorry. I just…” Officer Tyler stammers, chuckles, then shuts the door.
I open my eyes to study my husband’s. For the briefest of moments, I pretend they’re not being held open, and pursing my lips, I kiss his lifeless mouth. Is this really too unbearable? Kissing me? Looking at me?
I’m looked at all the fucking time, but as an object, a hole, a means to an end, not as a person, not as myself. Never myself.
But whoever I am, I’m not this.
Revulsion rolls through me like a tidal wave—revulsion with Kordin, but mainly with myself for stooping to this level—and I break it off, my forehead dropping to his chin as a single tear drips onto his neckline.
