My Marriage Had A Price Tag

The third year after I took Helena Montgomery back, she cheated again.

It was the same man as before.

When I ran into them at a bistro downtown, she tried to tell me he was just a client. Then, a second later, she instinctively pulled this client behind her, shielding him with a look of sharp, defensive suspicion.

I knew that look. She was afraid Id lose my mind again. She was afraid Id hurt the person she held closest to her heart.

But I didn't scream. I simply stepped forward, smoothed a stray lock of her hair that had fallen out of place, and spoke in a voice that was eerily calm.

"I understand," I said. "Don't drink too much. And remember to use protection."

I paused, realizing the advice was probably redundant. I corrected myself with a small, hollow smile. "Actually, don't worry about it. It doesn't matter."

I thought I was being incredibly accommodating. Gracious, even.

But for some reason, Helenas face went pale, then darkened with a sudden, inexplicable rage.

The restaurant was quietthe kind of place where conversations are hushed, and the only sounds are the occasional clink of silver against porcelain.

The atmosphere was meticulously curated. Nothing but deep red roses at every table. Everyone there was a lover. Or perhaps they were like Helenaputting on a performance of devotion while their secrets sat right across from them.

I ignored the storm brewing in her eyes. I gave a polite nod to the man cowering behind her and turned to leave.

My friend, who had witnessed the whole thing, caught up to me outside. "How are you not angry, Adrian?" he hissed.

Angry?

I searched myself for the feeling. It wasn't there. I had been angry once, years ago. I had raved and wept and burned bridges, and it had cost me everything. I had paid a price so heavy I couldnt afford to pay it twice.

I forced a smile. "Theres nothing to be angry about. Shes just seeing a client."

My friend stared at me, his eyes full of a pity that made my skin crawl. I couldn't tell him that this was the first lesson Helena had ever taught me:

Learn to look at her life and see nothing at all.

By the time my dinner meeting ended, Helenas black SUV was idling at the curb. I looked at the Uber app on my phonethe wait time was twenty minutesso I didn't hesitate. I opened the back door and climbed in.

Naturally, the passenger seat was occupied.

He turned around, offering a smile that was half-shy, half-smug. "Sorry about this, Mr. Sterling. I get terrible motion sickness."

It was Parker Vance. He looked younger than I remembered. "Helena felt sorry for me and insisted I sit up front. Its nothing more than that. I hope you don't misunderstand."

Helena slid into the drivers seat, her voice clipped as she threw a glance into the rearview mirror. "Its just a seat, Adrian. If it bothers you that much, Ill make Parker swap with you."

I leaned back against the leather, my tone soft and accommodating. "Its fine. I understand. I actually have some motion-sickness patches in my bag, Parker. Would you like one? It might make the ride easier on you."

Parker didn't say a word. Helena went silent, too.

The car became a vacuum of sound. Outside, a cold San Francisco rain began to fall, blurring the city lights into streaks of neon.

My friend texted me, asking if Id made it into a car or if he should come pick me up. I kept my head down, typing a reply, failing to notice how hard Helenas knuckles were turning as she gripped the steering wheel.

Finally, just before the downpour turned into a deluge, she lurched the car forward.

"Drop Adrian off first," Parker suggested, his voice light. "His place is closer."

"Fine," Helena said, her voice overlapping with my "No need."

I blinked, realizing Helenas patience had reached its limit. I quickly tried to smooth things over. "Actually, its getting late and the rain is getting worse. Driving back and forth is such a hassle. Why don't you both just stay at my place? Ill text the housekeeper to get the guest suite ready"

Before I could finish, Helena slammed on the brakes. The tires shrieked against the wet asphalt.

My forehead caught the back of the passenger seat. Hard.

Before the pain could even register, Helenas voice cut through the air like a blade. "Get out. Now."

I realized then that I had misread the situation again. I had been too accommodating. I shut my mouth, pulled my folding umbrella from my bag, and stepped out into the storm.

The umbrella was useless against the wind. Within seconds, I was drenched.

Helena sped off, her tires kicking up a massive spray of dirty rainwater that soaked my legs. By the time I wiped my eyes, I couldnt even see her taillights.

I had to swallow my pride and text my friend to come get me.

When he arrived, he looked at my shivering, soaked form with pure frustration. "You let her do this to you! You deserve this for being a doormat!"

I pulled my lips into a thin, jagged smile. "Thanks for the ride. I know youre trying to help, but I cant leave her."

It wasn't that my heart wouldn't let me leave. It was the reality of my life that held me in place.

I was just stepping out of the shower when Helena returned.

She was sitting on the sofa, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. The living room was thick with smoke; shed clearly been there a while.

I froze, a towel halfway to my hair. The scene felt like a haunting echo of three years agothe night before our first divorce. She had smoked one after another back then, her eyes cold and resolute, before handing me the papers in a cloud of grey haze.

I walked over, stiffly, and gently took the cigarette from her lips. "Stop. Its bad for you."

Helena looked up, her eyes swimming with a complexity I couldn't decipher.

I forced myself to smile. "You don't have to worry. I didn't misunderstand anything about you and Parker. You said hes a client, so hes a client."

I continued, my voice a practiced melody of understanding. "You already had plans with him. It made sense for him to sit in the front. I was the interloper. I won't cause a scene, Helena. I won't bother him."

I was being the perfect husband. The kind of man who didn't ask questions.

Yet, Helenas expression only grew more grim. Her jaw was set so tight it looked like it might shatter.

A spike of panic hit me. I spoke faster, desperate to appease her. "If you want to bring him over, I don't mind. Truly. If he finds me annoying, I can move out for a few days"

"Enough!"

Helena lunged up, grabbing my wrist with a strength that made me wince. Her eyes were bloodshot.

"If you're so goddamn understanding," she hissed, "then why don't you just give up the title? Why don't you stop being my husband entirely?"

I gritted my teeth against the pain in my wrist, staring into her eyes. "If I do... will you stop paying for my mothers medication?"

Helenas eyes widened.

I didn't wait for her to answer. I pressed on, the words tumbling out with a desperate honesty. "If I give up my place in this house, will you keep funding her treatment? Helena, Ill leave right now. Ill sign whatever you want, as long as you keep her in that program. Please?"

Helena recoiled as if Id slapped her. She let go of my hand so abruptly she nearly lost her balance. She stared at me, searching my face for a lie, for a joke, for anything other than the cold, hard truth.

I wasn't lying.

I would hand Parker Vance my wedding ring on a silver platter if it meant my mother lived another month.

Helena let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. "And you say you didn't misunderstand?"

She stepped closer again, taking my hand back, her thumb rubbing the red marks her grip had left on my skin. "Parker is a client, Adrian. Im not lying."

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Don't get jealous, baby. Its exhausting. You know I don't have the patience to coddle you."

I looked down at her hand on mine. I wanted to tell her I wasn't jealous. I wanted to tell her that jealousy requires love, and I wasn't sure what I felt for her anymore.

But it was a pointless argument. I just nodded. "I know."

After that night, Helena became a ghost of the woman she used to be.

Suddenly, she was always home. She left late and returned early. Every morning, she made me walk her to the foyer, and before she stepped out, she would turn back to kiss my forehead.

Every evening, she brought me flowers. Sometimes it was pansies, sometimes irises... never the same thing twice.

She would kiss the corner of my mouth and whisper, "I missed you today."

But the woman who "missed me" spent her afternoons photographed at the mall with Parker Vance or spotted at a luxury spa in Napa with him.

She was playing a part, and so was I. We were both experts at pretending.

Then came her mothers birthday gala.

Helena told me she wanted me there by her side. I agreed.

When she pulled up to the house to get me that evening, the passenger seat was already taken.

Parker smiled at me through the window, his expression devoid of any real apology. "Sorry, Mrs. Montgomery... I just have such a weak stomach."

Was this another test?

I smiled back, nodding politely. "Its no problem. Motion sickness is miserable. I get it."

I reached for the back door handle, but before I could open it, Helena stepped out of the car. She walked around to the passenger side and looked at Parker.

"Get out," she said.

Parkers smile faltered. "Helena, I thought"

"Don't make me drag you out," she said, her voice like ice.

The tension was thick enough to choke on. I started to say something to diffuse the situation, but Helena didn't give me the chance. She practically hauled Parker out of the seat.

"Either sit in the back or call a cab," she snapped.

She didn't even look at his face. She held the door open for me, ushering me into the front seat.

It was awkward, but I knew better than to defy her in this mood. I sat down and buckled my seatbelt. Parker didn't call a cab; he sulked in the back.

As we drove, Helena handed me a velvet box. "A gift for my mother. Give it to her when we get there."

I murmured a thank you. Before I could say more, Parker leaned forward from the backseat. "Its an emerald necklace. I helped Helena pick it out. Its stunning, isn't it?"

I traced the edge of the box and smiled softly. "Yes. It really is."

See? The woman who said she missed me spent her time with him. Her body was always somewhere else.

How could I ever believe a word she said?

The dinner was smalljust family and a few close associates.

Helenas mother, Evelyn, adored Parker. She thought he was charming and vivacious. I knew that during our first divorce, Evelyn had tried everything to set Helena up with him permanently.

Helena had refused then. Perhaps she preferred the thrill of the "forbidden."

Tonight was no different. Evelyn ignored me entirely, reaching past me to take Parkers hands. "Ive been waiting for you! You naughty boy, you never come to see me. Without you, I don't have a single soul in this house to talk to."

She pulled Parker to the seat beside her.

I was a ghost. I placed the gift on the table. "This is from Helena. Parker helped her choose it."

Evelyn actually looked at me then, surprised. She opened the box, let Parker fasten the emeralds around her neck, and sighed. "You always had the best taste, Parker. Not like some people. Some people have no taste and even less common sense. Theyre just... in the way."

A few years ago, that would have stung. I would have walked out.

Now, I just stood there, a hollow man with no reaction.

Helena frowned. Something felt wrong to her. Ever since that night at the bistro, I had been... too calm.

Indifferent.

For the first time in years, Helena got drunk at her family home.

She couldn't stop thinking about me standing there in the corner, head bowed, silent. Unfazed by the insults. Unfazed by Parker.

Did I really not care?

The thought drove her to drink more. Since we couldn't drive back, we stayed the night at the estate.

Parker was given the room right next to ours.

It was Evelyns doing. A blatant move.

So, when Helena pinned me against the bed late that night, her breath smelling of expensive wine, I pushed her away.

I straightened her collar and gave her a small, polite smile. "Wait one second."

I walked out of the room and knocked on Parkers door.

Under Parkers shocked gaze, I led him into our bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Then, I took the car keys and drove away from the Montgomery estate.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. It was Helena, her voice a low, dangerous hiss. "What the hell are you doing?"

I watched the headlights cut through the darkness of the highway. "The last time you were drunk and holding me," I said quietly, "you called out Parkers name all night. I assumed tonight would be the same."

Helena screamed into the phone. "I didn't say his name tonight!"

"I know," I replied, my voice steady. "But in case you did halfway through... I was just looking out for you."

The line went dead. She didn't call back.

The punishment was swift.

Helena vanished. Not physically, but she blocked me from her world. She stopped coming home, stopped answering my calls, and began appearing everywhere with Parker.

The tabloids were full of them. Helena Montgomery and Parker Vance at the Charity GalaThe Golden Couple.

Then: Helena purchases a multi-million dollar sapphire, placing it on Parkers finger under the spotlight. It looked like a proposal.

Then: Fireworks and a kiss at the harbor.

The headlines were relentless. It felt like Helena had bought every trending topic on social media just to rub it in my face.

But then, in the middle of the marketing blitz, a different kind of story broke.

SHOCKING: The Secret Marriage! The Other Man Exposed!

A thread went viral, detailing how Helena and I were actually married. It claimed she had divorced me three years ago for Parker, only for us to reconcile, and now she was cheating on me with him again.

The internet turned on Parker instantly. He was labeled a homewrecker, a social climber, a "professional third party."

Someone doxxed him. His degree was fake. His certifications were lies. People sent death threats to his apartment.

Helena called me immediately.

She was surprisingly patient. "Adrian, honey, the things you're seeing... its just business. Its for the brand. Don't take it seriously."

Then, the hook. "Be a good boy and delete the posts. Don't make this difficult for me."

I wasn't surprised she was blaming me for the leak. Shed done it before. Years ago, when Parker lost a high-profile competition and the internet turned on him, Helena told me I had to take the fall.

When I said I couldn't stop the internet, she had used AI to deepfake compromising photos of mescandalous, career-ending imagesto bury Parkers bad press under my own.

She called him a "client," but every time he was in trouble, she threw me to the wolves to shield him.

"I didn't post it, Helena," I said calmly. "I don't have the password to take it down. Parker is a public figure. Maybe you should check if hes offended someone else."

Helena didn't speak. Instead, I heard Parker sobbing in the background. "But... but... Adrian is the only one who hates me! Hes the only one who would want to ruin me!"

Hate? I didn't hate him. I didn't feel enough for him to hate him.

"Parker," I said into the phone, "youve misunderstood. I don't hate you. I don't even think about you."

The sobbing got louder.

I sighed, looking at my phone. "Helena, just have your PR team deepfake some more photos of me. If I do something 'worse' in the public eye, theyll stop yelling at him. Do what you have to do. I don't care."

There was a loud crack on the other end, like something breaking. I waited for her next order.

But Helena just hung up.

I checked my phone an hour later. All the threads about Parker were gone.

But there were no new scandals about me either. Even the old news from three years ago had vanished from the search results.

It turned out that burying a scandal only required money and power. You didn't actually have to destroy one person to save another.

I smiled a cold, empty smile.

I tucked my phone into my bag and walked into my mother's hospital room.

I thought that was the end of it.

But then, the real black-market footage of me leaked.