HIS FIRST LADY(SANDRO MARCOS)

Chapter 14: The Past, Clearer

Samuel stares at me with an intense, stern expression that stretches on, his eyes dark with focus. Then, suddenly, his lips curl into a smirk, and he breaks into laughter.

"You've got to be kidding," he chuckles.

"I'm not joking," I reply flatly. "What part of this situation suggests I'm trying to be funny?"

His laughter fades, but the mocking grin stays. "For ten years, you've been the perfect, obedient wife. You dropped your male friends when I told you to. You cut down your time outside the home. You even skipped your father's 60th birthday because I came down with the flu..."

I remember that day. I made Samuel chicken soup and stayed by his side as he slept. Whenever I suggested leaving for the party, he'd clutch my hand and say, "I need you more than he does, Rafha. If you love me, you'll stay."

When I finally gave in, he got out of bed, laughing at some TV show. His cough mysteriously disappeared, and he never even spiked a fever.

Even back then, I was a fool—so deeply in love that I couldn't see beyond him.

At my wedding, when my father came into the bridal room to walk me down the aisle, he took both my hands and gently asked, "Are you sure this is the man you want?"

My father, who was always so sure of everything, was uncertain in that moment. But when I told him, "I love him, Dad," he buried his doubts and supported my decision.

"You even let me go to Vegas on my own," Samuel continues.

"You said it was for business," I retort.

He scoffs, a harsh laugh escaping his lips. "You knew the truth."

I didn't. I was always the trusting wife, never questioning him. When he said he had a business deal to close in Vegas, I believed him.

He came back with lipstick on his collar and clothes reeking of alcohol, claiming the deal fell through because "the clients were the wrong kind of people. They tried dragging me to strip clubs even though I reminded them I'm married."

At the time, I was proud of him for standing by our marriage.

But now, I can see it for what it really was: there was no business deal. He just went to Vegas to indulge himself.

"You may be old and fat, but you're not stupid, Rafha," Samuel says coldly. "You knew what was happening and you let it slide. Our marriage works because you're compliant. You submit, and I provide for you and the kids. It's simple."

I always thought I was just trusting him, believing in our marriage... didn't I?

In some way, he's right—I'm not stupid, even if I let myself be fooled. But did I allow it on purpose? Deep down, did I know the truth all along and just choose not to see it, clinging instead to what I wanted to believe?

I convinced myself that Samuel was a faithful, loving husband and willfully ignored every sign to the contrary, blinded by my own desires.

Samuel believes I've been complicit all this time, but that's not true. I still have my dignity.

I close my eyes, trying to hide the shame creeping up from how gullible I was, and a single tear escapes down my cheek. It's the only one I'll allow myself.

Ten years of deception. The best years of my life wasted on a love that was never real.

"Why?" My voice cracks despite my effort to keep it steady. "If you've been so unhappy with me, why didn't you say something sooner? Did you really think you could keep pushing me and I'd never reach a breaking point?"

For the first time, Samuel hesitates. I open my eyes in time to catch him glancing at Thea, who still clings to his shoulder.

"Has Kaylee made you this bold?" I ask.

Samuel's gaze snaps back to me, sharp and defensive. "Don't drag your poor sister into this. Everything happening now is your fault, Rafha."

Swallowing down my tears, I steel myself. The past no longer matters—whether it was real or not. What matters now is my future.

"If you really want a divorce, you need to think carefully," Samuel says. His tone is clipped, void of any warmth. "You may have your little job at the country club, but what is that next to my position as CEO?"

"I can support myself and the kids," I respond. Life will be tough; the girls won't have the luxuries they're used to, but I'll work hard to give them a home filled with love and happiness.

Samuel laughs dismissively. "You've been a housewife your entire adult life, Rafha. Your savings? Mine. Investments? Mine. Retirement funds? All mine."

"I'll make it work."

"And what about the kids? You really think I'll let you have custody? I'll fight you tooth and nail. My lawyers will bury you. You won't stand a chance."

My heart sinks. He's right—I know he has the resources to back up his threat. I'd fight for my girls, but how long could I hold out against him? The legal battles would drag on, and Samuel can afford the best attorneys in town.

"Be reasonable, Rafha," he says, reading my silence as concern. "An open marriage benefits us both. I'm actually doing you a favor by offering it. Think of it—you get to keep your kids."

"And what do you get out of it?" I ask.

Samuel's smirk returns, cruel and twisted.

I already know the answer. He gets to keep his obedient housewife, maintain his public image, and continue leveraging my father's connections.

A small flame of anger sparks within me. It grows, fueled by the sheer contempt I feel for Samuel in this moment. For the first time, I begin to feel anger toward Kaylee too, for going along with this vile scheme.

Part of me wants to scream, cry, and throw them both out of my house. But I can't risk losing my daughters. I need to play this carefully.

"Maybe you're right," I say quietly. "I've been selfish."

Samuel's eyes widen briefly before a smug grin spreads across his face. "See? I knew you could be sensible."

Kaylee peeks at me from under Samuel's arm, still hiding behind his weak protection.

"An open marriage could work for us," I continue. "Let Kaylee handle your Viagra refills. I'm ready to move on to someone younger."

Samuel's smirk falters for a second but quickly returns, dripping with mockery. "You think you're going to find someone better? You're just a worn-out, washed-up housewife. Who's going to want you, especially a younger man?"

"I know I will," I reply confidently. "Because I already have."

Samuel's smile vanishes, replaced by a flash of anger in his eyes. "What did you just say?"

"I already have a boyfriend, Samuel," I repeat. "And he satisfies me in ways you never could."