He taps the top of his fingers against each other. “I hope you do realize you’re lucky …”
“Lucky?” I frown.
“To be alive.”
The air between us thickens.
“And you will be as long as you honor our agreement.”
“I haven’t told anyone about the games.”
He raises his brow. “Not a soul?”
“No one,” I say in one breath.
After a few seconds, he says, “Good. Now tell me why you’re here.”
I fish the broken microphone from my pocket and hold it up for him to see. “Is this yours?”
He frowns, looking at it from afar, and then says, “Where did you get that?”
“So it’s yours?” Rage boils up to the surface.
“I didn’t say that.” His lip quirks up into a smile. “However, if I’m completely honest, it does look like one of ours”—he looks me dead in the eye—“but we aren’t tapping you.”
“Don’t lie to me, please,” I hiss. “I deserve more than that.”
“You left our home. You canceled the contract and gave up your spot. As far as I know, you don’t deserve anything from us.”
“After what you put us through? I dare to disagree.”
He sighs. “Look, Hyun. I don’t understand why you’re here. I already told you we’re not tapping you.”
“Isn’t it obvious? Who else would do this? You are the only one who has a reason to do so. You want me to keep quiet about your little game. You’re keeping tabs on me.”
“Oh, please,” he scoffs. “Like we’d need to wiretap you for that.” He laughs. “Hyun, I already know you’ll never go to the police. Or the media.” His face darkens, and the look in his eyes is dead serious like he could kill at any moment. “Because if you did, you know what will happen.”
I swallow away the lump in my throat, still trying to remain headstrong, despite the obvious threat to my safety.
“I never said I would,” I hiss. “But only if you promise me you won’t ever bug my place, watch me, or even remotely contact me in any way.”
“I don’t even want to, Hyun. You left us, remember? Besides, I already made my choice long ago.” He sighs and turns around in his chair, looking out the window as if I’m not even here anymore.
“I don’t care. The point is I’m only here to make sure this bug isn’t yours.”
“It isn’t.”
“But you said it does look like one of yours.” I cross my arms. “Can you please explain?”
“It’s possible someone inside the company placed it there without my knowledge. However, the brand that manufactures them is a big one. Many companies use them. I’d say you’re at a dead end.”
He turns to face me again, this time casually leaning back in his chair, seemingly bored. “Are we done now?”
Maybe he’s not lying after all. It sounds more like I’m annoying the crap out of him. Good. It makes up for what he did to me a little bit.
“Hyun, is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks.
“Do you know of anyone who could put this in my house? Someone who’d want to keep tabs on me?”
“No …” he says, chuckling a little. “Maybe one of my employees after they saw you strutting around the bank. Who knows?”
Like a brick in the face, it suddenly hits me.
My dad works at one of the biggest banking companies. And he said Greg was his boss.
One of the biggest … is this one. The one I’m standing in right now.
I never thought to ask Greg because I didn’t want to know. I hate him and my parents.
But now, it all makes sense.
My lip twitches and I search in my purse for my wallet, where I find a small, crumpled picture of my husband tucked away. I take it out and place it on the table in front of him. “Do you know this guy?”
He glances at the picture, only giving it minimal attention. “He looks familiar, but I don’t know from where.”
“He works here,” I say.
“Oh, right!” He snaps his fingers. “I remember now.” He taps the picture. “This guy was a friend of my father’s. I saw him maybe once or twice. I don’t interact with him directly; my VPs do that for me. He’s a manager in the finance department.”
I sigh and close my eyes. “Thank you.”
I didn’t even realize a thank you had slipped from my mouth. How stupid. I have nothing to thank him for. He’s caused all my problems. Because I bet that it’s only because of me coming to this bank in the first place, to meet Max, that Greg even remotely became interested in me.
It explains everything.
That he was so slimy when I first bumped into him.
When he came to my parents’ house as if he was a regular there.
He already had his sights set on me from the get-go.
“How do you know him?” Max suddenly asks.
“I’m married to him,” I mutter under my breath, snatching the picture away again before Max can grab it. I don’t want anyone else to see this. No one can know I was here. If Greg finds out, then … I don’t want to think about what happens then.
I crumple the picture in my fist, which is when I notice Max has been looking at me in a peculiar way. Almost like he actually feels sorry for me.
“You know … you’re free to do whatever you want.” He picks up a pen and starts playing with it.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well … since he’s an employee here and all …”
I frown and cock my head, waiting until he tells me more.
“What I’m saying is, I won’t hold you back if you want to do something about this … thing.”
Thing. Does he mean my marriage? The bug? Or Greg?
Maybe he means all of them.
But why do I not even remotely feel ashamed for wanting exactly what he proposes?
Because honestly … I’d love nothing more than to see him rot in hell.
I place my hand on Max’s table and say, “I’ll do it. But if you want me to keep my mouth shut, then help me ruin him.”
One of his eyebrows rises, and a small smile appears on his face. “What do you want me to do? Kill him? Do you honestly think that causing more bodies will help my case? No.” He laughs. “I’m not meddling in your affairs. You’re on your own.”
“You’ve got to help me. After all those games, it’s the least you could do,” I plead on his good will.
He purses his lips, thinking about it for a second. “Divorce him. I’ll provide a lawyer. Once that’s done, I can settle things with him on a personal level.”
“He’ll never agree to a divorce. I’m sure of it.”
“Then I can’t help you. I’m sorry. If you’d come to me sooner, before you were married, maybe then I could’ve given him a different girl, but now that you already married him … I just can’t. It’s too risky. Too much exposure on my part and I’d like to keep things under the radar on my end.”
I take a deep breath and turn around, feeling the tears already stinging my eyes, but I won’t let them go free. Not here. Not now. None of these men deserves my tears.
“I’m sorry,” he adds.
“Your sorry won’t help me when I’m dead,” I answer, and I leave without giving him the chance to look me in the eye a final time. Maybe he’ll regret his choice once he looks down at me from above at the cemetery where they’ll bury my body.
11.
Accompanying Song: “Daydream” by Ruelle
Hyun
With a glass of wine in one hand and the crumpled picture of my husband in my other hand, I stare at the fireplace in front of me. It’s cozy and warm, but in my heart, it feels like it’s freezing cold. The longer I sit here and think about it, the more I want to scream and break stuff.
It’s not how I am. How I ever was.
I’m the curious, shy type—the one who’s always e
ager to learn new things. The one who’s content with her small life and just wants to make do.
I’m not the girl who wants to go out there and punch people even though that’s the only thing I can think about right now. Punching Greg in the face. Twisting his nuts until he screams and begs. Shooting him with my gun.
It scares me. Something’s changing inside me, and I’m not sure I’ll like the person I’ll become if I do any of the things I fantasize about daily. But it feels like I’m already too late to stop it.
With a scowl on my face, I tear apart the picture and throw it into the fire, watching it burn.
I wish I could watch his face burn.
To say I have deep-seated resentment is an understatement. I’ve never wanted a man to die, but I’ll gladly make an exception for Greg. He’s the devil himself.
I force myself to remember all the things he’s done to me.
Made me out to be a whore, a liar, a bitch, and every other nasty word in the dictionary.
Laughed at my bad English, made fun of my thin physique, my posture. Told me that no man would ever want me and I’d be alone forever.
All those months … he pulled me, hit me … used me in every way possible … dehumanized me.
I’m done. Through with it all.
It’s time to turn a new page in my life.
I get up and march to the kitchen, taking a large pair of scissors from the drawer. Then I go to the bathroom where I stand in front of the mirror, grab the bottom part of my hair, and cut it all off. The hair falls to the floor, like a burden finally lifting from my shoulders. The short bob that remains is a stark reminder of what I’ve been through … that I’m a survivor instead of a victim, and I choose to open a new chapter.
***
A few days later
“There will be a test next week, so make sure you study hard. Any last-minute questions?” the English teacher asks the class. No one raises his or her hand, so the teacher quickly adds, “Well, have a wonderful day, and I’ll see you all next week.”
Everyone gets up, and I pack my bags and quickly walk toward him. “I just wanted to say thank you. Your classes have helped me a lot.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure, Hyun. Your English is great. You’re a fast learner.”
“Thank you,” I say with a smile. “You’re a great teacher.”
He smiles and gently places an arm on my shoulder. “Make sure you study hard next week. I’ll expect you to ace this test too.”
I nod as he winks and leaves the classroom.
I sigh and look down at some of the books I’m still carrying in my arms. I wish I could study even quicker so no one would even notice I’m not speaking my native language. Then again, I have to be grateful for what I’ve achieved so far. I’ve come a long way from not being able to speak full sentences. And look at me now, thriving on my own, completely without help.
I’m proud of myself.
With a broad smile, I strut out of class and make my way back home. This time, I didn’t drive the car because I really felt like walking out my worries. Besides, it’s good for my health. I don’t want to become a couch potato even if I’m not safe outside like this. I’ll take the risk. It’s a safe neighborhood. What could happen?
***
Accompanying Song: “Game Of Survival” by Ruelle
As I traipse down the sidewalk and pass some bushes, something catches me off guard.
Or rather … someone.
Out of nowhere, a person jumps out of the bushes, pushing me so hard I fall down.
A loud bang makes me close my eyes. Another one follows.
The weight on my back makes it feel like something hit me. My ears ring, and my head feels dizzy. The only thing going through my mind right now is whether I’m dead.
A mind-numbing buzz rolls over me as my body is completely covered … the smell of musky cologne entering my nose.
After a few seconds, the weight lifts and I can breathe again. I cough and look up … only to find him crawling up from the ground.
The man who watches me … over and over again … sends me secret, provocative notes that make my heart beat in my throat. And now, he’s grabbing me, twisting me around in his arms, his hands all over me, his eyes scanning my face.
“Are you okay?” he asks. His thumb softly brushes the sore bruise on my face.
The words barely register, but I manage to nod anyway.
“Where did you …” I mutter.
He licks his lips, his face stern, and his voice darker than before. “I always watch you …”
It doesn’t sound like a threat.
And for some reason … it makes me feel warm inside.
He holds out his hand, but I stare at it for a few seconds, wondering if I can trust him. Why did he jump on me out of nowhere? And what was that sound? Did he try to hurt me?
When I look into his blue eyes, the only answer I find is his incredible devotion toward me. With just a look, he manages to persuade me to grab his hand.
He lifts me up from the ground and holds me close to his chest, forcing me to smell that same musky scent that exhilarates me. His muscles flex, and I can feel every inch of his skin through the thin dark blue shirt he’s wearing underneath the brown jacket.
I look up at his beautiful eyes, which scan the area looking for others, while I feel like I could drown in his. Suddenly, they point at me, and I’m at a loss for words. I can’t believe he’s actually here … that I’m holding him … and he has his hands on my body.
“Are you hurt?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
A woman on the other side of the street stares at us in shock, her hand on her mouth as she quickly dials something on her phone and starts to call.
“She heard it too …” he murmurs.
A witness.
He grabs my hand and pulls me with him into a deserted alley. “You can’t go walking on the street like that, Hyun.”
My name … coming from his mouth.
It sounds so sexy …
My mind is going haywire right now.
“You were almost shot,” he adds, grasping my full attention, as well as my arms as if to instill fear into me. “You have to be careful.”
I nod, my lips parted, but I don’t know what to say to that.
I came so close to death. It’s unbelievable, and I’m still in shock.
Someone would shoot me?
Yes … yes, they would.
***
Drake
Minutes before
She’s safe.
I whisper to myself as I inch closer to his house.
She’s in her English class. I saw her enter the building. I followed her there every step of the way.
I look at the watch on my wrist. In ten minutes, the class will be over, and then she’ll come walking out again. I still have enough time.
I put on my gloves and go up to the living room window behind the bushes. Hiding as well as I can, I peek through the curtains. When I spot him, my blood begins to boil.
Her husband.
I want to strangle him to death, but doing so would mean implicating myself, and I’m not going to jail. No fucking way.
Instead, I settle for watching him as he yells into his phone.
“Fuck, I hate her,” he growls, smoking a cigarette.
I turn my back against the wall and listen through the small gap in the open window as he comes walking toward me and stares out the window for a second. My heart is racing, and I catch myself holding my breath.
When I hear his footsteps disappear, I glance inside again, staying long enough to hear him say, “I wish she was already dead.”
Of course, he does, sick bastard. After fucking her over, he doesn’t even want her to live without him.
I grab a pen from my pocket and a small notepad, and I scribble down literally everything he says.
“Wha
t do you want me to do? I’m not fucking divorcing her. She’s mine, and if I can’t have her, no one can! I’d rather die than let her win.”
I didn’t know he fucking cared so much about her that he’d want her to walk over his corpse before she’s free—but I will make it happen if that’s what he wants.
“I don’t care what you think. Just get it done today!” he spits, and then he throws his phone at the wall.
Get it done today.
If that means what I think it means, I have no time.
She’s the perfect victim.
My feet skid on the pavement as I rush to catch up.
She’s in danger.
I have to get to her.
Before it’s too late.
But what if he gets there before me?
I can’t let her die.
I run across the street, barely dodging a truck, which blares the horn loudly as I keep running. There’s no time to stop. No time to think. What if he’s already there waiting for her to come outside?
Two, three, four blocks.
My heart is pounding in my chest, and my lungs expand to suck in as much air as I can while I keep running, my legs barely able to keep up the pace. But I’m not stopping. Not until I see her strolling on the sidewalk, staring at her cell phone, while a man across the street rummages in his pocket and takes out a gun.
I run as fast as I can across the grass. Through the bushes. Right into her.
***
Now
She’s here. She’s safe. She’s right where she belongs.
In my arms.
I’m touching her.
My hands are on her back … her arms … her ass.
And the more I feel her press against me, the more protective—no, possessive—I feel.
Dangerously possessive.
Like I’m addicted to the very thought of her clutching me.
Dirty Wife Games Page 7