“He’s not here,” I said.

“Well, when will he be back? I don’t have all day.”

“Who are you?” I asked, even though I was starting to piece it together.

“I’m Alexis, Richard’s girlfriend.” She tilted her head like she was amused. “And you are the help, apparently?”

She laughed.

“Well, yes, obviously, though. But Richard usually has better dressed staff. Are you new staff?”

In my own home, wearing my regular Saturday clothes—jeans and a college sweatshirt—I apparently looked like the help to this child.

“I’ve been here 12 years,” I said. “Twelve years. Richard’s only lived here for 5. Try 12.”

She rolled her eyes. “The help always exaggerates their tenure. Just tell Richard I’m here. I’ll be in the living room.”

She walked into my living room, sat on my couch, put her feet up on my coffee table. The coffee table Richard and I bought at an estate sale our first year of marriage. We finished it together in the garage.

“Could you bring me some water?” she called out. “With lemon. Not too much ice.”

I brought her water. No lemon. Too much ice.

She sighed like I’d personally offended her. “Is Richard training you? This is not how he likes things done.”

“How does Richard like things done?” I asked.

“Properly. Efficiently. With respect for his guests.”

“Are you a frequent guest?”

“I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday when his wife is at work,” she said, like she was reciting a schedule. “Sometimes Saturdays if she’s at her book club.”

I don’t have a book club. Haven’t worked Tuesdays or Thursdays in two months since I changed my schedule. Richard didn’t know about the change.

“You seem to know a lot about his wife,” I said.

She laughed. “I know enough. Older. Let herself go. Boring.”

“Richard’s only with her for the convenience. Cheaper to keep her than divorce her. He says, he says that all the time. She trapped him young before he knew better. Now he’s stuck with some frumpy woman who probably doesn’t even know what Botox is.”

I touched my face unconsciously. Thirty-seven years old. Some lines, sure, but frumpy.

“Richard deserves better,” she continued. “Someone young. Beautiful. Who understands his needs. Not some housewife who probably thinks missionary is adventurous.”

“Maybe she works,” I suggested.

“Oh, please. Richard says she has some little job at a company. Probably a receptionist or something. Nothing important.”

My little job running the company I founded 8 years ago. The one with 200 employees. The one that pays for this house, Richard’s car, his practice that’s been hemorrhaging money for 3 years.

“Richard’s practice must do well,” I said.

She snorted. “Between us, it’s struggling. But that’s what happens when you’re too nice. He needs a woman who can push him to be ruthless. That wife of his probably encourages his soft side. Maybe she pays the bills while he figures things out with her little salary.”

“Please. Richard’s the man. He provides.”

I went to the kitchen, pulled out my phone.

Richard was at his golf club. Saturday routine never changed.

I texted him to come home immediately. Emergency with the house.

He texted back that he was in the middle of a game.

I texted that the ceiling in his office had collapsed.

He’d be home in 15 minutes.

I went back to Alexis.

“Richard’s on his way.”

“Finally.” She smiled again. “I’ve been waiting to surprise him. We’re going to Cabo next week. I booked the villa and everything.”

“Cabo’s nice. Expensive.”

“Richard’s paying. Obviously. He always pays. That’s what real men do.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Six months. Best six months of my life. He buys me everything I want. Takes me to the best restaurants. Did you know he spent $8,000 on my birthday necklace?”

I did know, because I saw the credit card statement from our joint account that I fill with my little salary.

“That’s generous.”

“I said he’s very generous with the right woman. His wife probably gets grocery store flowers and dinner at chain restaurants.”

“Probably.”

Richard’s car pulled up.

He walked in looking panicked about his office ceiling. Saw Alexis first. His face went white.

Then he saw me.

Went whiter.

“Richard!” Alexis jumped up. “Surprise. I came to see you.”

“Alexis, what are you doing here?”

“Visiting you, silly. Your help let me in. Though she’s not very good. You might want to replace her.”

“My help?”

He looked at me.

I smiled.

I kept my smile steady while watching Richard’s face shift through at least five different expressions in about 3 seconds. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, then closed again when nothing came out. He looked at Alexis, then back at me, then at Alexis again, and I could actually see his brain working overtime, trying to figure out which lie might save him.

His hand came up to loosen his tie, even though it wasn’t tight, and he took this weird half step backward like his body wanted to run, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate.

Alexis was still standing there with this big smile on her face, completely missing the panic radiating off Richard like heat waves off asphalt in summer. She started to move toward him for a hug or something, but then she caught his expression and stopped midstep. Her smile faltered just a little bit, and she glanced over at me with this confused look, like she was trying to figure out why Richard wasn’t happy to see her.

I watched her eyes move down to my left hand where my wedding ring sat, the same ring Richard put on my finger 12 years ago when we got married in that little courthouse ceremony, because we were too broke for anything bigger. The ring caught the light from the window, and I saw Alexa stare at it for a solid 3 seconds before her brain started making connections.

She looked back at Richard, then at me again, and her face went through this slow motion realization that would have been funny if it wasn’t happening in my living room.

Richard finally found his voice, and it came out all scratchy and weird. He said I was his business manager, that I handled the house finances and helped with paperwork, and he was talking really fast, like speed would make the lie more believable.

Alexis looked relieved for maybe 3 seconds, her shoulders relaxing, and that confident smile starting to come back.

I held up my left hand so the ring was right in her line of sight, and said very clearly that I was his wife of 12 years, the one she’d been talking about for the past 20 minutes while I brought her water with too much ice.

The color drained out of Alexis’s face so fast, I thought she might actually pass out right there on my hardwood floors. Her eyes went huge, and her mouth opened into this perfect O shape, and she literally stumbled backward until she hit the door frame between the foyer and living room. She grabbed onto the frame with one hand to keep from falling, and her designer purse slid off her shoulder and hit the floor with this expensive sounding thunk that echoed in the sudden silence.

I could see her trying to process what I just said—her eyes darting between my face and my ring and Richard’s guilty expression. Her breathing got faster and her free hand came up to her throat like she couldn’t get enough air.

Richard started to move toward her, but I held up my hand and told them both to sit down in the living room because we were going to have a conversation like adults.

My voice came out calm and steady, even though my heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my ears.

Richard opened his mouth to argue, probably to say this wasn’t a good time or we should talk privately or some other excuse, but something in my face made him shut up immediately. He walked over to the couch and sat down on the edge like he might need to run at any second.

Alexis followed him like she was in a trance, moving slow and careful like the floor might open up and swallow her. She sat on the opposite end of the couch from Richard, as far away as she could get while still being on the same piece of furniture.

I stayed standing because sitting felt like giving up some kind of advantage I didn’t want to lose.

I looked at Alexis and told her to tell me everything about her relationship with Richard, and she immediately turned to look at him like he could give her permission or tell her what to say. Richard was staring down at his hands in his lap, picking at his thumbnail the way he does when he’s nervous.

Alexis’s mouth opened and closed a few times before any sound came out. And when she finally started talking, her voice was shaky and small.

She said they’d been together for 6 months, that they met at some hospital fundraiser where Richard was trying to drum up referrals for his practice. She said Richard told her he was unhappily married to someone who didn’t understand him, who was boring and old and didn’t appreciate what a good man he was. Her voice got even quieter when she said that last part, like she was starting to realize how stupid it sounded now.

Richard tried to interrupt with some apology or excuse, his head coming up and his mouth opening, but I cut him off before he could get a word out.

I asked Alexis about the money, about all the things Richard bought her, and I kept my voice steady and calm like I was asking about the weather. Alexis listed everything in this small, scared voice that was nothing like the confident tone she’d used when she thought I was the help.

She talked about dinners at restaurants I’d never even heard of, places downtown with names in French or Italian that probably cost more per meal than most people spend on groceries in a week. She mentioned the $8,000 necklace for her birthday, shopping trips where Richard bought her shoes and purses and clothes, weekend trips to beach resorts. It’s a few hours away.

Then she said the Cabo trip she’d booked, a villa that cost $12,000 for the week, and Richard had told her not to worry about the cost because he wanted to treat her right.

Her voice cracked on that last part, and I saw tears starting to form in her eyes.

I pulled out my phone and opened our banking app, pulling up the credit card statements I’d been looking at for the past month, trying to figure out where all our money was going. I held the phone out so they could both see the screen, and I scrolled through the charges, highlighting each one with my finger.

Dinner at some place called Leernard Dan, $470.

Jewelry purchase at Tiffany, $8,200.

Hotel room at the Ritz, $600 for one night.

Alexis went pale again as she watched me scroll through charge after charge, and I could see her doing math in her head, adding up all the money Richard had spent on her over 6 months.

She turned to Richard and asked if this was true, if he’d really been spending his wife’s money on her. And her voice cracked hard on the last word like it was physically painful to say.

Richard tried to explain that it was complicated, that his practice had been having some rough years, and he was going to pay it all back once things turned around.

I interrupted him before he could finish and said his practice had lost money for three straight years running, that I’d been covering the losses out of my salary while he pretended to be some successful doctor who could afford a mistress.

Alexis’s hand came up to her mouth, and she made this small sound like she might be sick.

I told her that I’d been covering Richard’s practice losses, his car payment, this mortgage. Basically, everything in our lives while he was playing sugar daddy with my income. I said every gift he gave her, every dinner, every hotel room, every single thing came from money I earned at my company—the little job she’d made fun of earlier.

Alexis looked like she might actually throw up right there on my couch.

And honestly, I didn’t blame her, because her whole fantasy about Richard being this generous, successful man who could take care of her had just shattered into a million pieces.

Richard was still staring at his hands, and I noticed his face had gone red. Not from embarrassment, but from anger, like he was mad that I was telling Alexis the truth about our finances.

Alexis started crying for real now. Not pretty tears, but ugly sobs that made her mascara run down her face in black streaks.

Alexis wiped at her face with the back of her hand and smeared black makeup across her cheek. She looked at Richard and then at me, and something seemed to click in her brain because she suddenly sat up straighter on the couch.

She asked Richard about her father and said he promised to help with her dad’s career advancement.

Richard’s face got even redder and he shifted in his chair but didn’t say anything.

I asked what her father’s name was, and Alexis said Nox Marcato without looking at me.

My stomach dropped hard because I knew exactly who Knox Marcato was. He worked in my company’s operations department and had been there for 4 years doing decent work, but nothing that stood out as special or promotionw worthy.

I turned to Richard and asked if he really promised to influence Knox’s career at my company.

Richard stared at the floor, and his silence told me everything I needed to know. He’d been making promises about my company to his mistress without even talking to me about it.

Alexis started crying harder now, and these weren’t the delicate tears from before, but real ugly sobs that made her whole body shake. She called Richard pathetic and asked how much of what he told her was actually true.

Richard just sat there looking at his hands like they might have answers written on them.

I stood up and told Alexis she needed to leave my house right now.

She didn’t argue like I expected, but just grabbed her designer purse off the coffee table and picked up her coat from where I’d left it on the chair. She walked to the front door and I followed her to make sure she actually left.

Alexis paused with her hand on the doornob and turned back to look at me.

She said she was sorry and that she didn’t know I was real.

It was such a strange thing to say that I almost laughed, because of course I was real.

She opened the door and walked out to her car and I watched her drive away before I closed the door and locked it.

When I turned around, Richard was standing right there trying to reach for my arm.

I stepped back fast and told him not to come near me.

He started talking really fast about how the affair meant nothing and how he loved me and how he would end it completely so we could work through this together. His words ran together like he thought if he talked fast enough I might believe him.

I held up my hand to stop him and asked how long he’d been lying to me about everything. Not just about Alexis, but about the practice and the money and those Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Richard’s face changed and he looked down at the floor again.

He admitted the practice had been struggling longer than 3 years. He said it was more like 5 years and he didn’t know how to tell me.

Five years of lying about his business while spending my money to keep it afloat.

Richard said he felt emasculated by my success and that everyone in our social circle knew his wife was the bread winner while he was the failed doctor………………….

Click Here to continuous Read​​​​ Full Ending Story: Mistress Thought I Was The Help. I Owned Her Dad’s Company_PART2