They Thought I Was Just Her Husband

CHAPTER 8

Jason brought up something that had happened right before Tracey and Theo got married—a ghost from sixteen years ago that both of them had long buried.

Back then, Tracey was still an aspiring actress desperate for her big break. She had attended an exclusive private party in the hills, a gathering packed with A-list actors, powerful producers, wealthy investors, and executive decision-makers. It was the kind of event where careers were made or broken in a single night.

That evening, eager to network and impress the room, Tracey had drunk far too much just to fit in with the others around the circle she was in.

At some point near midnight, her memory blurred, and she completely blacked out. There was a stretch of several lost hours that night that she simply couldn't account for, waking up the next morning with a blinding headache in a quiet guest room.

What happened? She had no idea. It was like a black hole in her mind that no amount of thoughts or recollection could possibly bring back.

Yet, despite the missing hours, Tracey had always insisted that nothing untoward had occurred.

"I would've known if something like that happened to me, Jason," she said firmly, her voice sharp as she paced across her office. "A woman knows her own body, doesn't she? Nothing happened that night."

Jason slowly nodded in agreement, not wishing to disagree with her.

It was true. The entertainment industry had always been a notoriously messy place, floating on a sea of hidden scandals, quiet cover-ups, and figures whose private lives were anything but clean. But Tracey had genuinely been different. For all the eleven years Jason had managed her career, she had always kept herself in check, drawn strict boundaries, and deliberately stayed away from that chaotic lifestyle.

She'd know if a particular gathering would lead to anything promiscuous and would intentionally cook up an excuse to avoid it. She'd kept her name respectable and out of the lips of the wolves of the industry who loved to prey on young, talented actresses like herself.

Her record was clean as far as it goes...she knew it...Jason knew it too.

Even so, looking down at the glowing lab report on her desk, Tracey couldn't stop a cold thread of doubt from creeping into her mind.

Could something really have happened during those lost hours?

If she was clean, and if nothing had happened at that party... then how on earth could Hope's DNA results possibly be explained?

She questioned those missing hours from her memory, questioned that night and in that moment of panic and desperation, she questioned her own body. Was there truly a way something could have happened without her feeling the effects of it?

Oh come on, that's absurd!

The thought hung over her like an unseen predator, making her increasingly uneasy, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

Unable to bear the suffocating uncertainty for another second, Tracey snatched her phone off the desk and dialed a senior actor—an old friend who had also attended that exact same party sixteen years ago.

When he picked up, Tracey skipped the pleasantries and pressed him desperately about that night, asking if he remembered who she was with, where she went, or if anyone had taken advantage of her while she was incapacitated.

  "I need you to think hard. I know it's been a while but...this is very urgent," she said, her voice trembling slightly under her breath no matter how much she tried to drive some steel into it.

On the other end of the line, the actor quieted down, searching his memory for a long time.

Finally, he answered with absolute certainty. "No, Tracey. Absolutely not. Nothing happened that night."

He repeated it again, clear and deliberate through the speaker: "You just drank too much that night and passed out on a couch in the VIP lounge. That's all. Nothing happened to you, I swear."

Only then did Tracey finally release the ragged breath she had been holding in her chest. She ended the call and simply stared at Jason for a long, hard moment.

For a brief, overwhelming moment, the tension drained out of her so fast that her knees buckled slightly against the mahogany desk, and tears of pure, desperate relief sprang to her eyes.

Nothing had happened. She hadn't betrayed Theo. She was innocent!

But as the initial wave of relief washed away, it was swiftly replaced by a scorching, white-hot anger.

Of course, she was innocent!

Theo had made such a catastrophic mess out of this situation that he had actually driven her to the point of doubting her own virtue, her own body and sanity!

He had forced her to dig up humiliating memories, to interrogate old colleagues, and to panic like a criminal.

The more Tracey thought about it, the angrier she became, her hands curling into tight fists.

She had done nothing wrong. She had been a devoted wife, supporting their home while building an empire, remaining faithful through every temptation the industry threw at her. Yet Theo kept relentlessly accusing her, throwing paternity tests in her face, demanding a divorce, and treating her like some shameless, unfaithful whore.

That man was so damn infuriating. He was taking her patience, her grace, and her desire to save their marriage for granted.

If he insisted on continuing to make trouble and dragged her name through the dirt over his own insane delusions, then she wasn't going to stand by and tolerate his disrespect any longer, despite her love for him.

If Theo wanted to make things difficult... she was more than capable of making his life a living hell.