Chapter 4

Could it really be?

Had Serena been sneaking out at night to sleep with younger men, terrified that I would wake up and notice her missing side of the bed, so she hired her best friend to take her place beside me?

They had similar heights and builds. In the dark, if I rolled over half-asleep, I'd never look closely enough to realize who was lying there. Naturally, I wouldn't disturb what I thought was my sleeping wife.

That meant the soft click of the front door I had heard on two previous nights wasn't an intruder at all. It was Serena sneaking out into the night the moment Rachel slipped into my bed.

Everything suddenly clicked into place.

Why her voice sounded muffled and strange. Why her body went rigid with dread the moment my hands brushed her skin—because it wasn't my wife at all. It was Rachel.

I finally understood why Serena smelled faintly of alcohol in the mornings. And that night she wore a tight cocktail dress? Rachel must have panicked, ran into the bathroom, and called Serena to rush back home.

That was why Rachel couldn't even look me in the eye that night, nervously avoiding my gaze.

I collapsed back onto the mattress, letting out a hollow, bitter laugh. Such a ridiculously sloppy trick, yet I had been completely blind to it. If I hadn't taken that nap today, I would have kept playing the fool indefinitely.

I lunged up, my hand on the doorknob, ready to tear it open.

Then, a cold calm washed over me.

Ripping Serena to shreds right now wouldn't change anything. A heart that has strayed is gone forever.

I wanted to see just how far she was willing to go to keep up this charade.

Swallowing my fury, I quietly slipped back under the covers and closed my eyes, ignoring the muffled voices outside.

It was already midnight. I lay still, listening intently.

About half an hour later, absolute silence settled over the apartment. Then came the faintest click of the front door. It was much softer than before.

If I were actually asleep, I never would have heard it.

That quiet click completely shattered the last shred of my affection. Our entire marriage had been a lie from day one.

Another thirty minutes passed. The bedroom doorknob slowly, silently turned.

The tiny sound pulled me out of my dark thoughts. Rachel was coming in.

Through slit eyes, I watched a slender silhouette slip into the room, gently clicking the door shut. She crept toward my bed with agonizing care.

It was definitely Rachel.

Every step she took was like walking a tightrope, terrified of waking me.

She lingered by the edge of the mattress for what felt like an eternity before gingerly lifting the edge of the duvet and sliding underneath.

To be honest, my chest was tearing itself apart. There was agonizing heartbreak and white-hot fury over my wife's betrayal, but beneath it all lay a twisted, dark surge of adrenaline. My own wife had delivered her stunning best friend straight into my bed.

Lying beside me, Rachel barely dared to breathe. I could feel the sheer panic radiating off her.

I let out another silent, self-deprecating sneer.

To go out and screw other guys, Serena literally placed her gorgeous best friend in my sheets. Not even a cheap movie would dare write a plot this absurd.

Serena, I thought bitterly, I gave you everything. From the day we got married, whatever you wanted, you got. And this is how you repay me? God, I despise you.

As the memories of our past burned through my mind, my anger morphed into a reckless, dangerous urge.

Fine, Serena. You forced my hand.

You're the one who put Rachel in my bed to play the part of my wife. In that case, there's nothing wrong with me touching my 'wife,' right?

Tonight, I'll treat her exactly like Serena. Let's see how you clean up this mess.