Chapter 5

From upstairs, I heard the car starting. When I peeked out, I saw Jameson protectively wrapping his arm around Xandra. As if sensing my presence, Jameson glanced up at the second floor, our eyes meeting. I noticed his brow furrow slightly as his lips parted, seemingly wanting to say something. However, I just stared at him coldly. Jameson seemed surprised by my reaction, probably expecting another outburst. "Jameson?" Xandra called softly beside him. Following his gaze, she spotted my shadow behind the window. "Jameson..." she said with a hint of hurt in her voice, "If you want to stay with Ms. Lambert, go ahead. I'll be fine on my own." Jameson snapped out of it, his expression clearing as he replied flatly, "It's nothing. Let's go." Xandra glanced up at me, and I caught her slight smirk. She was mocking me—laughing at how I, the legal wife, couldn't keep my husband from doting on her. I felt a tight, hollow ache in my chest, not exactly painful, just slightly suffocating. Then, I drew the curtains as the sound of the car faded away. Collecting myself, I began sorting through my belongings. I had to admit that I had never wanted for material possessions. After all, I had lived a luxurious life with the Lamberts before my marriage. Even so, I couldn't help but be stunned when I saw the massive walk-in closet with endless rows of clothes and bags. The space was so large it echoed, filled with limited edition designer bags and custom-made clothes too numerous to count. As I went through them, I found many bags had never been used, and clothes and shoes still had their tags attached. The fingerprint-locked jewelry cabinet revealed an impressive collection of jewels, accessories, and luxury watches. While I couldn't remember how Jameson and I had lived during our five-year marriage, he clearly had not been stingy. That was somewhat reassuring. If he wasn't tight with money, the divorce settlement should be substantial. Even if my relationship didn't work out, I would do fine with just having a loaded bank account. The closet was enormous, and there was too much to handle all at once. Eventually, I only packed a few everyday outfits, some expensive-looking jewelry, and a million-dollar women's watch. As I returned to my room, my foot hit a large black bag. Curiosity made me peek inside, and my face instantly turned red. It contained several unopened costume sets, which included the likes of sexy cops, office ladies, short dresses, schoolgirl outfits, and more. My face kept burning as I went through them. Jameson hadn't lied—my pre-amnesia self had not only been intense but quite adventurous too. "Wow, Wynonna. Are you thinking of using these to save our marriage?" A cold, mocking voice came from behind me, making me jump up to my feet. Jameson grunted in pain, holding his chin as I backed away. "W-Why are you back so soon?" "It's been over half an hour. OF course, I'm back," he said irritably. I realized that time had flown, and almost an hour had passed since he had left with Xandra. Embarrassed, I quickly stuffed everything back into the bag and kicked it into a corner. Jameson's eyes darkened as he commented, "You've gotten smarter, Wynonna. I expected another big fight." He came over and wrapped his arms around me, his voice oddly gentle as he coaxed me. "Stop this now. There's nothing between Xandra and me." Just as I was about to reply, I caught a whiff of the sweet fragrance on his shoulder. It was undeniably Xandra's perfume. The scent made me sick, and I shoved him away hard. "Stay away from me," I warned. Jameson's face turned grim as he growled, "Wynonna, don't push your luck." "You reek of another woman's perfume, yet you dare tell me there's nothing between you two?" I laughed coldly. Jameson sniffed his shoulder, his expression shifting. He frowned, ready to explain, with an exasperated look on his face. He was sick of having to explain the same thing countless times. "We're sleeping in separate rooms starting tonight," I said, turning to leave. Behind me, Jameson's angry voice rang out. "Wynonna, aren't you done?" "Not even close!" I scoffed. Jameson lunged forward and grabbed my arm, his grip so tight it made my face pale with pain. "That hurts!" I cried. Seeing my teary eyes, he loosened his grip. "The perfume rubbed off by accident. There's really nothing between Xandra and me," he said with deep exasperation. I remained silent, but before I could react, Jameson bent down and kissed me. My body trembled in shock as I tried unsuccessfully to push him away. Then, his breathing grew hot, his hands firmly caressing my waist. Familiar electricity coursed through my body as my breathing became erratic. My mind was in chaos, with fragments of memories threatening to surface. Before long, my body surrendered inch by inch under his touch, and I could hear my heart crying. This body was too weak. Though I kept trying to push him away, my feeble attempts only seemed like playful resistance to him. Soon, his kiss grew more intense, his masculine scent filling my senses and ruining my reason. My mind grew hazy as my body unconsciously responded to him. By the time I felt the cold air, I realized Jameson had carried me to the bed. With my last bit of rationality, I shoved him hard and shouted, "Don't touch me!" Jameson was unbuttoning his shirt and almost fell from my push. Anger flashed across his face as he raised his hand to strike. My body instinctively curled into a ball as I screamed, "Don't hit me!" Time seemed to freeze as his hand hung in midair, and we both remained motionless, neither understanding my reaction nor his sudden violence. I trembled on the bed as Jameson's anger dissipated at the sight of my pitiful state. He stood by the bed, trying to explain but failing to find the words. I wrapped the blanket tightly around me, my voice shaky and almost pleading. "Get out. Just go. Don't touch me." Jameson finally managed to utter, "Fine. Get some rest. I'll sleep in the study." With that, he left with a cold expression, slamming the study door behind him. The room went silent again, and I lay exhausted on the soft bed, my back drenched in cold sweat and my head throbbing with pain. I couldn't understand why Jameson couldn't leave me alone if he hated me so much. I wondered why I feared his violence if I had loved him so much before my amnesia. Most importantly, I couldn't understand why he refused to divorce me. As my headache worsened, exhaustion eventually took over, and I finally drifted into a restless sleep.