The Wife They Called Fool Chapter 1

Everyone in Manhattan’s upper crust knew that Roman Kensington’s wife had an IQ of exactly seventy-five. A mild cognitive delay, the specialists called it.

So, when Roman slid the glossy sonogram printout across the mahogany dining table toward me, it took my brain a full three minutes to process it. The penthouse was dead silent, save for the low, expensive hum of the central air.

"Roman," I finally said, my voice quiet. "I just had my physical yesterday. I'm not pregnant."

He wouldn't look at me. He kept his gaze fixed on the sprawling view of Central Park.

"I know, Paige. This is... this is my child. With someone else."

Other high-society wives might have screamed. They might have shattered the Baccarat crystal or filed their nails into his chest. I didn't cry. I didn't make a sound.

I was too busy trying to untangle the logic of it: Why would you have a baby with someone else when we are married?

Roman must have mistaken my silence for submission. He leaned over the table, his large, warm hand smoothing down my hair.

"That's right. Just be my good, sweet girl," he murmured. His voice was soft, the exact tone he used to soothe a frightened child. "The heir to the Kensington empire has to be sharp. Brilliant. And you know how you are..."

He stopped himself, sighing. "Never mind. You probably don't understand anyway. All you need to know is that your position as Mrs. Kensington will not change. Nothing will affect you."

A dull, needle-like ache bloomed slowly across my chest.

I am slow. I know that.

But a word surfaced in my mind from the television shows I watched. When a husband has a baby with another woman, it’s called cheating.

And when a marriage derails like that, it is supposed to end.

...

* * *

Roman lit a cigarette, his movements casual.

"She's a new junior analyst at the firm. But you actually know her. It's Valerie."

Valerie. Of course I knew Valerie.

I had paid for her entire Ivy League education through my foundation for the past seven years.

The acrid smoke drifted across the kitchen island, curling into my face. It stung. A thick film of tears began to blur my vision. It wasn't until a single drop slipped down my cheek that Roman snapped out of his thoughts and hurriedly stubbed the cigarette out in a crystal coaster.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Paige. I forgot you can't stand the smell."

He practically leaped up to crack the floor-to-ceiling windows, letting the brisk New York breeze in. "You know how much pressure I'm under right now. Quitting cold turkey is impossible."

I knew he couldn't quit.

But because of my asthma, he had strict rules for himself. For years, he only smoked on the terrace at the office. He would shower and change his clothes before he ever stepped foot in our home, terrified of bringing even a hint of ash to me.

Now, I watched as he waved the smoke away, casually explaining, "Once Valerie found out she was expecting, she insisted on finishing her current portfolio before taking leave. She works so hard. So, I mandated a strict no-smoking policy for the entire executive floor. Even for myself. I just... slipped up today."

"Everything for the mother of the baby, right?"

When he spoke about Valerie, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He couldn't hide it.

Even someone as slow as me could see that smile.

"Roman... how can you talk about betraying me so easily?" My voice trembled. "What am I to you?"

The smoke had cleared, but the tears kept falling, hot and fast, landing in my lap.

His brows knitted together. He took a step forward, reaching out to wipe my face. "Paige, sweetheart, you don't understand the corporate world. This isn't an affair. It's a transaction."

When I stumbled backward, shrinking away from his touch, a flash of irritation crossed his handsome face.

"Paige, stop making a scene! I just need an heir. A brilliant, capable heir who can take over the board."

He looked at me, his eyes hardening for a fraction of a second. "Can you give me a genius for a child?"

It felt like someone had taken a hunting knife and carved a hollow, gaping hole right in the center of my chest.

I stared at him, my entire body shaking.

His voice abruptly cut off. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." He reached out again, his voice frantic now. "I promise, we'll have kids later. Sweet, innocent babies just like you. Babies that will grow up safe under my protection. But before that, I must secure my position with a prodigy."

"Valerie is brilliant. You sponsored her for years; you’re her savior. She isn't like those other social climbers trying to sleep their way to the top. That's why I chose her."

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. "See? I really did think this through. I did this to protect us."

I stood frozen, looking at the man I married, and suddenly, I was pulled back to a time long before Roman Kensington existed in my world.

I thought of the man who was my biological father.

I remembered the damp, freezing basement in Ohio. He used to tie me to a heavy wooden chair, leaving me there for hours in the dark. He would sit at the top of the stairs, eating his dinner, shouting down at me with a cruel laugh.

"You're too stupid to survive in the real world, Paige! I have to push you to the brink to unlock your potential. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Everything I do is for your own good!"

I heard those words for so many years that they became the truth in my head.

Even after Roman found me and pulled me out of that hell, I still believed it. I used to sneak kitchen knives into my room, trying to recreate the pain my father taught me, convinced I needed to "unlock my potential."

It was Roman who had burst into my room, snatching the blade from my hands and throwing it against the wall.

"Everything he told you is absolute bullshit!" Roman had yelled, pulling me into his chest as I sobbed. "Bad people will always disguise their selfishness as love. But you don't need to be smart to know the truth, Paige. You just have to listen to your heart. If your heart hurts, you walk away from the person hurting it. Do you understand? Don't listen to their bullshit!"

I looked down now, pressing my palm flat against my sternum.

It hurt so much.

Roman. You were the one who taught me this.

When your heart hurts, you leave the bad person behind.