I had never been so hurt. I really didn’t want to hear why Derrick—my rich, older fiancé—didn’t tell me that he was married, and that I had just been the mistress all along. But I loved this man, and I had to least listen to what he had to say, for my own piece of mind if nothing else.
“I’m not technically married, Cassie,” he said.
I told him that I had seen all the text messages, and that it was time to stop lying. “You married her years ago, so make it work. Forget about me, she’s your future now.”
Derrick grabbed me by the arm and pulled me towards him. I was in tears. He took my face in his hands and forced me to look at him. He explained that they were legally separated and that had she never signed the divorce papers. He had called her while she was in town on business to persuade her to sign the documents because he wanted to marry me.
He also told me that she was the one that persuaded him to sleep with her. “She was my life once, I owe her that much to try,” he told me. “But I don’t want to lose you. I still want to be with you. Stay here; enjoy this life I built for you, for us.”
All I could do was shake my head in disapproval. There was still more. He continued, “The truth is, I don’t have a prenup, and if I leave her, she will take everything. I have to stay so that she can see for herself that it will never work between us. Then she’ll sign the papers herself. And when she leaves, I’ll be all yours.”
We spoke for hours about why I couldn’t stay, why I didn’t want to be part of all this. He told me that after I left his office that day I met his wife for the first time, he took a vacation from work so that he could stay at the house and wait for me to come back, even if it was just to get my stuff.
Derrick always knew exactly what to say, and how to touch me—he knew how to convince me that we belonged together. I agreed to stay. I loved him, and I knew I wasn’t ready to walk away from this just yet.
We were lying in bed after we passionately made up. I looked him straight in the eye and said, “You have one year to leave her. If in that time she doesn’t sign the papers, you need to make a choice—me or her.” And with those words, I had just become his mistress.