JUDITH’s POV: Hiring An Investigator.

'Is she home?'

To whom is Serena alluding? My mind got filled with questions. Should I show him the text? Or should I dismiss it as a pleasant message from my cousin to my husband?

'Friendly, my ass!' I exclaimed when I remembered how these two were never on the same page, let alone on the same 'book.'

I mean, I texted my cousin's husband, asking where she was. So, I guess it was not a huge thing.

'But why do I get a nagging sense that says otherwise?'

With my initial worries still lingering, this message was the last thing I needed.

I was not sure how I was going to disregard this message and pretend that everything was fine.

What was the harm in texting a childhood friend? We all grew up together, after all. The voice from within resonated once more.

But these two, on the other hand, had never liked each other. Mark and Serena would growl at each other and refuse to speak to each other.

'So, since we're all trying to play, why don't I enlist the help of my teammates? I need to keep an eye on him.' I decided.

What I'd discover would most likely break me, but the misery and anxiety that ran through my veins every day was something I wanted to end. I wanted to know if it was my cousin he was cheating on me with- and if it was someone else, I wanted to know.

However, the question that lingered on my mind was;

'Am I ready to accept the truth and still stay and pretend I don't know? Or am I ready to accept the truth and get out of Mark's life?'

But, if I were going to act as if I had no idea what they were up to behind my back, why 'bother looking for answers?'

******

"All right, I'll see you in a week; I need weekly updates. And don't omit or hide anything you find, or I'll report to your superior, and that might terminate your career," I threatened the investigator, my left palm in the air.

Perhaps I vented my rage and loathing onto him: not because he deserved it, but why not?

He got out of his chair and leaned over the table. His palm caressed my curls as his eyes gleamed with anticipation, and his voice grew deeper and lower, tinged with a smidgeon of effort.

"Now, why would a pretty woman like you become enraged over a man?" His bravado irritated me even more, and I screamed back at him,

"Take a look at this, Mr. I'm not sure what sorts of women you work for, but since you're working for me, I advise you do what I'm paying you to do. Never, ever! Please don't ever touch my hair again."

He lowered his head swiftly, but not before I noticed the smirk on his face.

I rolled my eyes again, but before I could say anything further, the phone on the table rang, and he bolted from the room to receive the call.

Mark had returned home one day drenched in blood. He hurried into the shower without even greeting me, unlike other days.

'Are you harmed, Mark? Do you want me to make a doctor's appointment for you? What went wrong?' The questions kept coming back to him, but he didn't respond to any of them. My heart continued to race, and my breathing became irregular.

'All right, I'm coming inside,' I announced as I opened the door and saw him smiling at me. That infuriated me even more.

'Where are you hurt? Are you in pain? Allow me to dress the wound for you,' While reaching for the first aid kit on the top shelf of the bathroom, I offered.

But he approached me from behind, reaching for my hand and then putting it down.

'I'm perfectly alright. You're overly concerned,' that tone of voice- My knees buckled at the sound of that voice.

'What have you been up to, Mark? Whose blood is it then, if you're fine?' I inquired quietly. My earlier fear was dissipating, and curiosity was gradually taking its place.

'You weren't supposed to be in the house this early. What went wrong?' I frowned at his response to my questions.

Did it mean he'd come home with bloodstains, expecting I'd be where I said I'd be, which was never home?

He continued brushing off my questions, saying he'd tell me later.

This man was nothing like the man I grew up with or married at first.

Was my mother's or father's advice correct? Was it possible that I made a mistake by not listening to them?

"Did you hear what I said earlier?" Yes, the private investigator I hired was already back in my office, arranging a few photos he got from outside.

It seemed the call he got was from the person he also hired.

In the pictures, Mark appeared to be in charge of a group of men.

Mark's profession was not in a remote location or around the woods. In every photograph, he appeared enraged and-

"Your husband appears to be a member of a gang. Do you have any suggestions for navigating this information? Do you know if he has any properties in the woods?

That does not appear to be a cheating husband, but this individual could be an agent. He might easily pass for one. Is he one of them? How often does he sleep beside you in bed?" He inquired from me and even went so far as to ask me personal questions.

I wanted to scream at him to mind his own business, but I couldn't because it was what I hired him to do. However, I pretended not to hear his last question.

"My husband has taken over as CEO of his father's business. His father retired a long time ago, and if he owned any property in the woods, I'd be the first to know," I spoke quietly in the hopes that he may hear me.

"Please send all further information to my email address. I have to return home," I gave instructions as I hurriedly loaded my belongings into my suitcase and walked to my car, where I drove home.

When I got home, I noticed Mark's car parked next to my cousin's.

'Maintain your composure. There isn't much going on there. Lady, take it easy.' I tried calming myself down.

'Not on my watch,' I again yelled to myself before finally exploding.

Serena was sitting on the couch with her legs folded and her foot on the couch as I opened the door, and she gave me a startled look.

She got up from where she was seated, her eyes flashing quickly.

"Hi. What are you doing in this place?"

"That is the question I should be posing to you. Here is where I call home!" I became enraged and yelled at her. Was she okay when she asked that question?

"Can we talk for a moment? I came to visit you," I found it a bit odd when she opened her arms to hug me, especially when my chest was against hers, which was heaving heavily.

"I know you're not telling the truth," I remarked as my gaze searched her entire face.

I went to walk away when she drew me back into her arms and screamed at the top of her lungs, telling me how great it was to see me after such a long time.

I tried to break free yet again, but she drew me back into an embrace, and this time I couldn't fight my suspicions any longer.

Mark walked down the stairs at that very moment, and when he spotted me, he ran back up the stairs and into the bedroom.

The SIGN was that.

So I chased him upstairs and opened the door to see him leaning against the restroom door.

"Get off the door," I commanded fiercely.

"No," he replied quietly. That infuriated me even more.

"Do whatever you want, Mark, but don't do anything stupid in this house or bedroom. I'm serious when I say I'm divorcing you if I find something I don't like!" My outburst had caused a deep frown on his face.

As he moved away from the bathroom door, his brows instantly curved together.

"Can you tell me what you're talking about?" He inquired, his face and tone betraying his concern.

As I opened the washroom door, I nudged him aside.

My eyes welled up with tears at the image that greeted me.

How could he do that? What went wrong, exactly? Was I-

"I can explain, sweet pea," he pleaded, his voice tinged with remorse as he approached me from behind.

Sweet Pea.

He hadn't called me that in a long time. Why now, when I was at my most enraged?