The Secret

by Stella Gray

Still, I played my part. I was the sweet, silent arm candy he wanted me to be. I looked good, but there was nothing behind the smile. Nothing of substance to share. It was just like it had been with my father. That was the extent of my worth to men like him and Stefan. All sugar and zero redeeming value. A human prop.

  When I made a trip to the ladies’ room, I noticed I had a text from Grace.

  Everything okay? her text said. I’ve been watching you guys and am a lil concerned re: your body language?

  I couldn’t help smiling. She was right. And of course she’d noticed things were tense between me and Stefan, she’d just been too polite to say something out loud earlier.

  Still, I had to deflect. Everything’s fine, I tapped out, glad she couldn’t see the lie on my face. Just a lovers’ quarrel. No big deal.

  I watched the ellipses flash across my screen before her reply popped up on the screen. Oookay, but if you ever need to get away for a few days—come stay with me. I mean it.

  You have ice cream? I responded, adding a thinking-face emoji.

  YAS! All the ice cream. Grace sent a barrage of dessert emojis and a pair of devil horns to go along with them. My apartment’s huge and there’s a jacuzzi tub in the guest bath. You know you deserve some girl time. Or maybe I just miss u? xo

  I miss you too, I typed back. And I’ll reach out if I need to. Thanks. <3

  Gotta go mingle with our fellow philanthropists, Grace replied. Let’s coffee soon.

  I went back out and joined Stefan for one final lap around the ballroom, making small talk with the various donors he wanted to say goodbye to. I complimented outfits and marveled at the beauty of the hotel hosting us, at the amount of donations that were being racked up. Every mention of the purpose of the fundraiser made me cringe inside, but I kept it together.

  Then, in the middle of a conversation with an older couple—some big-name Chicago society types who’d made their fortune in real estate development and had donated a ridiculous amount of money tonight, bragging egregiously and basking in their goodwill—Stefan’s phone buzzed. I could feel it in his jacket pocket.

  He discreetly slid the phone out just enough to check the screen. Then, without a word, he dropped my hand and walked away.

  I stared at his retreating back. Had he really just left me standing here with a couple of strangers?

  “Is everything alright?” the older gentleman asked.

  “So sorry about that,” I said politely, reverting to my years of social training as a senator’s daughter. “Stefan was waiting for that call. He’s very…committed to his work.”

  The man nodded generously. His wife gave me the same kind of bland smile I was giving both of them. No doubt she had dealt with the same kind of thing in the past.

  There was a brief, awkward silence before I managed to excuse myself and head in the direction that Stefan had exited in. He had left the ballroom and made his way out onto one of the balconies. It was freezing out, and the cold seemed to go right through my thin dress.

  Glancing around, I didn’t see him at first. The balcony seemed empty, most of the guests too smart to venture outside into the night’s frigid temperatures. But then, in a dark corner, I saw Stefan’s broad shoulders. I took a step and then froze.

  My husband wasn’t alone.

  He was with a woman, a KZM model by the looks of her, the two of them pressed up against each other. Her eyes were closed, her head resting on his shoulder as he shielded her body from the icy wind. I heard myself gasp as I watched him reach up and wipe her tears with a brush of his thumb. I knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that kind of care—even though I was well aware by now that it was all part of his act. Still, my stomach turned seeing how gentle he was with her. They weren’t kissing, but they were close enough to at any moment.

  I turned away before I saw any more, tears prickling my eyes.

  My heart had been cracked wide open. I’d known he was probably cheating with one or more of the agency’s models, but there was nothing like seeing it with my own eyes to force me to accept the truth.

  The part of me that had put on the lingerie he had bought, hoping he’d want to see me in it when we got home, the part of me that had hoped there was still a chance for reconciliation, for a real marriage somewhere beyond the horrible revelations and unforgivable behavior, had officially died.

  Stefan was sleeping with other women. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t love me. He didn’t want me.

  It was time for me to wake up and let go of the fairytale version of my marriage that I’d been clinging to.

  It was time to get over him. Permanently.

  Tori

  Chapter 6

  How ironic that I spent so much of my time studying language, drowning myself in words, only to realize that none of those words I was so obsessively diving into could properly describe how I was feeling. None had the power to break the spell I was under.

  Words had always been the one thing in my life that never failed me—until now. The hell I was experiencing was beyond language. I was desperate for something I knew I couldn’t have. Stuck in a cycle of longing and loathing for the one man I never should have touched.

  I wished I could scrub Stefan from my memory completely. Walk away, make a new life. And maybe one day I would.

  But for now, there wasn’t anything I could do.

  After the night of the charity fundraiser, I’d gone home and curled up alone in bed, more furious than ever at my inability to do anything to help the women or find a way out of the mess that my life had turned into. Stefan never came to my bed that night, which was no surprise, but I’d been completely unable to sleep, my mind racing. And then an idea had come to me.

  I went to my desk, opened up my laptop, and spent hours staring at the screen glowing in the darkness, researching organizations and charities that worked to fight sex trafficking on a global scale. I found out who they were and what they did, how they served, rescued, and advocated for victims of human trafficking. Operation Underground Railroad, The Emancipation Network, Polaris Project, Stop the Traffik. The price of my silence—my continued role as an accessory to KZM’s actions—was going to cost Stefan dearly. It was the least I could do.

  With my husband’s credit card held tightly in my hand (I was an authorized user), I signed him up for monthly automatic donations to as many legitimate organizations as I could. The fundraiser we’d attended was a slick PR move, I knew that, but the fat donation check that KZ Modeling had written wasn’t enough to atone for their sins. Yet no matter how many thousands of dollars I signed Stefan up to donate, it still didn’t make me feel better. It wasn’t enough. It was just a band-aid. Those women were still trapped. As trapped as I was.

  Though I knew I couldn’t tell my stepmother the truth about KZ Modeling, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to call Michelle and see if she had any advice for dealing with a relationship that was constantly on the rocks. I’d seen firsthand that her marriage to my father hadn’t always been rosy, but somehow she’d managed to weather all the storms. Maybe she could help.

  “So what do I do?” I asked her, after vaguely outlining the way Stefan and I barely saw each other anymore, how we didn’t seem to have anything to say to one another, how I always felt an underlying, unresolved tension between us. “I’m not expecting things to be perfect, and I know it’ll pass…but in the meantime, I just want things to feel…less fraught.”

  I left out that the reason I knew it’d pass was because I planned to leave him someday.

  To my surprise, her advice wasn’t just to give him more attention in bed (she had no idea we slept in separate rooms) or to pour on a heavy dose of feminine charm. Instead, she said, “Well, you two have very busy but very different lives, Tori. And that’s okay. It’s very normal. But sometimes the answer to too much space is to find even more space—for yourself.”

  “Wait, what?” I was shocked. “I don’t think I can get much further away as it is.” Thoughts of running
away to Grace’s apartment and staying there for a few weeks flitted through my mind, but I knew it would only be a temporary solution—and might make things even worse.

  “I’m not saying you should move out,” Michelle clarified. “But maybe a weekend vacay with your friends, or even a long girls’ night out, could help you reset. Give him a chance to miss you, wonder about you. Then when you get back home, he’ll treat you more respectful-like.”

  “Does that actually work?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine my workaholic father noticing if Michelle disappeared for a few days. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t know.

  “It works every time!” she said, laughing. “Sometimes men just need a reminder that their wives are real people with wants and needs, too—and that they’re lucky to have them.”

  Maybe Michelle was right. Maybe Stefan would be more respectful and kind if I took some real time away. Not just going to school and studying late, every single day like clockwork, but actually packing a bag and leaving for a little while. Yet when I casually brought up spending a few days at Grace’s apartment one morning, he barely acknowledged me.

  “Do whatever you want,” he said, breezing out the door with his coffee in hand. “I’m gone all weekend anyway.”

  So much for that.

  I went back to throwing myself into my school work, desperate to kill any remaining attachment I felt toward my husband. I studied harder than I ever had in my entire life and watched my grades bounce back to their former glory. But I still wasn’t happy. Not at all.

  Even though I had seen evidence of Stefan’s cheating with my own eyes, I still couldn’t shake the memories of all the good times we’d had. And though I hated to admit it, the thought of our marriage truly being over was even more painful than the thought of him running around with other women. But I couldn’t just stand by and ignore the fact that he was being unfaithful. Would I ever be able to forgive him, even if he wanted me to? God, what was wrong with me?

  I’d been reading the same paragraph over and over again in my Intro to Psycholinguistics text, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Stefan, huddled close to that model at the fundraiser.

  “You okay?” Gavin’s voice startled me out of my moping. We were at the end of one of the long tables in the dining commons, and this late at night the place was practically empty.

  “Fine,” I lied, avoiding eye contact. I stared up at the UChicago phoenix banners hanging from the ceiling, rubbing my eyes against the deep splashes of maroon and white.

  “You seem distracted,” he said. “You’ve been on the same page for the last twenty minutes.”

  I laughed bitterly. “Okay. Maybe I’m distracted.”

  Gavin smiled. “Well, I’ve got some bad news for you. I just found out I’m averaging an A- in Latin now, so I’m gonna have to officially break up with you as my Latin tutor.”

  It was easy to smile back. “Congratulations. This is the best breakup I’ve ever had.”

  “Oh, you’re not getting off that easy,” he said. “I’d bet anything you’ll be asking me for help next semester with Code Making and Cryptanalysis. It just so happens to be my specialty.”

  “You definitely are cryptic,” I teased, though of course nothing could be further from the truth. That was the thing that I loved about Gavin: he was just so direct and straightforward. He didn’t play games. You always knew where you stood with him. Nothing at all like my husband.

  Gavin dropped his voice a little lower. “In all honesty though, I’m worried about you.”

  I sighed. No doubt I looked terrible. I’d barely been sleeping. I would look at myself in the mirror some mornings and see someone who was just floating through life. The dark circles under my eyes could no longer hide under makeup, and there was a fatigue to my whole body that had me slumping over my desk in class. I looked—and felt—completely worn out.

  “It’s just midterms,” I bluffed. “Getting through them all will be a big help.”

  Gavin’s frown deepened. “How’s Stefan?”

  Bingo. He got me every time. “He’s great,” I said, not bothering to hide my sarcasm.

  Gently reaching over and closing my textbook, Gavin leaned closer. “I know you’re a private person, and I respect that, but if you ever wanna talk…I’m all yours. Okay?”

  His voice was so sincere that I could feel tears stinging my eyes. All I could do was nod.

  “I’m just so…” But I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t admit how defeated I felt, how awful my husband was treating me, how illegal and morally bankrupt his family’s business was. It would snowball way too quickly if I tried to tell Gavin even a partial truth. “So tired,” I finished lamely.

  Gavin stayed quiet for a minute, hesitating before finally resting a warm, comforting hand on my forearm. It had been so long since someone had touched my like that. Carefully. Respectfully. With kind, selfless intentions. I felt my breath calm, my pulse slow. It was good.

  “A bunch of us are going out clubbing tonight,” he said. “Come.”

  This man could not have been more Stefan’s opposite, and yet I still didn’t want him. I wished I did. I wished my attraction was more than just friendly. That he made my heart pound, my insides feel tight and hot, my life feel complete. It would have made things so much easier.

  “I’m not really in the mood,” I said apologetically. “I don’t want to be a downer.”

  I also didn’t want to do what I had to do with Stefan—pretend that everything was okay. It had also gotten exhausting having to dance around the details of my personal life, my husband, or the most recent popular topic of conversation among my classmates: KZ Modeling. Once the other students had found out that Stefan was the son of Konstantin Zoric and set to take over one of the most famous modeling agencies in the world, I had become a bit of a reluctant celebrity.

  It was literally the last thing I wanted. Because now people wanted to talk about Stefan. They wanted to talk about Konstantin. They wanted to talk about KZM and all the exciting, exotic, expensive adventures a connection like that must afford me.

  And I didn’t want to talk about it. Not now. Not ever.

  “You’re not a downer to me,” Gavin said. “But I won’t push you.”

  “I appreciate it,” I said truthfully.

  Even if Gavin was cool, I knew that if I went out with a group, everyone else would get drunk and loquacious and start asking questions. They wouldn’t be polite about it, either. They’d dig and dig and I’d have to evade and pretend and smile and act like I loved my life when right now, nothing could be further from the truth. All I could think about were the scores of women I wasn’t helping, and how every day I didn’t go to the authorities was another day they suffered.

  “Tori,” Gavin said, seeming to search for his words, “You don’t have to pretend for me. If you want to deal with stuff on your own, I get it, but I don’t need you to lie. Just be you. It’s obvious you’re going through a lot right now, and…Like I said, I’m here. Whatever you need.”

  I nodded. Gavin was so sweet I could barely stand it.

  “If you do change your mind, though,” he added, “we’d be happy to have you.”

  He started packing up his bag, and I followed suit. I had just zipped up my backpack when my cell buzzed in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw I had a text from Stefan.

  My traitorous heart gave a little leap in my chest. Apparently, I’d learned no lessons.

  Family dinner tonight. Be at the penthouse @7pm. Clothes laid out in your room.

  Don’t be late.

  I clenched my jaw. How dare he. How fucking dare he.

  I wasn’t in the mood to take orders from someone who’d abandoned me for his latest mistress in the middle of an event that I hadn’t even wanted to attend. An event he’d dressed me up for just to parade me around like a show pony, all to make himself—and KZM—look good.

  He had humiliated me and now he wanted me to come to dinner with his family? To pretend that everything was fine? To ea
t dinner across the table from his father, one of the most vile human beings I’d ever met?

  If I’d dreaded the idea of pretending to be happy for my classmates, I downright refused to do so for my father-in-law. I’d much rather go out drinking and dancing with normal, decent humans than be forced to sit across the table from Konstantin and Stefan, acting like everything was grand.

  Stefan could take his text message orders and shove them right up his ass.

  He could have dinner alone with his family for all I cared. He could stare at his father’s cruel, leering face and think about the life he had chosen.

  I was going out.

  Smiling up at Gavin, I saw the surprise in his eyes at my complete change in demeanor.

  “Actually I’d love to join you guys tonight,” I said, barely recognizing the sultry, friendly voice I was speaking in. “But I’ll need your help with one tiny little thing first.”

  “Anything,” he said, sounding a little dazzled.

  “I need a new fake ID,” I told him, holding my breath for a moment. “I know I don’t need to drink to have a good time, but with the semester I’ve been having, it’d sure help.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, I want to, but—”

  “Pretty please,” I said, signing the word in ASL for emphasis. “I’d get one eventually anyway. But if I have one tonight, I could really let loose. And I think I need that.”

  “Well…”

  He was weakening. I could tell. I batted my eyelashes and leaned closer. “Plus, you can babysit me if I get too tipsy. I’ll even stop if you tell me I’m cut off. Okay?”

  This time he didn’t hesitate. In fact, his smile grew. “Okay,” he said, making the sign for ‘okay’ back at me. “Let me just make a few calls.”

  As he stepped away from the table to do so, I looked down at my phone, frowning at Stefan’s text messages. I wasn’t going to respond. He could be left to wonder. See how it felt.

  Not only that, but I wasn’t going to let him ruin this night.

  Impulsively, I powered off my phone completely. Feeling the tiniest hint of victory, I slipped my cell back into my pocket. Tonight, for once, I was free.