My Husband And His Wife

Chapter Five

I didn’t hear the door open; I didn’t hear the soft click of the lock being bypassed. I just felt a warm hand caressing my cheek.

I bolted upright, a scream tearing from my throat before I could stop it. A pair of eyes was inches from mine, peering through the dim light of the room. My heart thrashed against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“Larry! My God!” I gasped, clutching the silk duvet to my chest. “How did you… I locked the door”.

Larry straightened up, a sheepish, too-perfect smile spreading across his face. “I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to startle you. You were sleeping so peacefully, I just couldn’t help myself.”

“You used a spare key?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of shock and pure, unadulterated disgust.

“I was worried, babe”, he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached out to brush a stray hair from my face, and it took every ounce of my willpower not to recoil. “You slept right through your alarm. I knocked for ten minutes, and you didn’t answer. I thought…well, after you mentioned that headache last night, I thought something might be wrong. I watched you for a bit just to make sure you were still breathing”.

He watched me. The thought made my skin crawl. He wasn’t watching me out of love; he was watching his investment. He was watching the woman he intended to ruin.

“What time is it?” I asked, frantically looking for my phone.

It’s ten am,” he said calmly.

“Ten? Oh no, the board meeting-the merger files-“ I moved to scramble out of bed, but Larry’s hand caught my arm, pulling me back with a gentle firmness that felt like a shackle.

“Relax, babe. I already called your secretary. I told her you were exhausted and taking the day off. You need to rest”.

A flash of genuine rage burned through me, hotter than the fear. “You did what? Who told you to do that, Larry? You have no right to manage my schedule!”

Larry recoiled slightly, his eyes widening in surprise. He hadn’t expected the ‘princess’ to grow claws. “I… I was just being considerate, babe. You were so stressed last night. I thought I was doing you a favor”.

The silence in the room stretched, taut and dangerous. I saw the flicker of suspicion in his gaze-a cold, calculating look that asked, ‘Why is she so angry?’ Does she really know?

I realized then that I was slipping. I couldn’t afford a crack in the mask. Not yet. But a single doubt clung to the edges of my control, a whisper in the back of my mind: Will I break before he does? I forced my breathing to slow. I let my shoulders drop, and I let my eyes fill with fake, shimmering tears. "I’m sorry, babe," I whispered, reaching out to touch his hand. "I’m just… I’m so stressed with the company’s merger. Everything feels like it’s resting on my shoulders. I shouldn’t have snapped at you."

The suspicion in his eyes faded, replaced by that familiar, arrogant triumph. He thought he had me back under his thumb.

“I know, babe”, he said, leaning in to kiss my forehead. The smell of his cologne-the same one I’d smelled on Anna-nearly made me gag. “That’s why I’m here, to take the weight off. Why don’t you stay in bed? I’ll bring you breakfast, and we can just spend the day… together”.

I forced a smile, the most difficult one I had ever performed. “Thank you, Babe. You’re right. I think a day off is exactly what I need”.

As he turned to leave the room, his whistle echoing down the hallway, I felt the cold iron of my resolve harden. He thought he had given me a day of rest. In reality, he had given me a full eight hours to coordinate with Mr. Sterling.

Larry wanted to play house. Fine. But while he was busy “watching my pretty face”, I was going to be busy dismantling his life.

Ten minutes later, he returned, and the smell of buttered toast and poached eggs filled the room. He set the tray down on the mahogany bedside table. “Eat up. You need your strength”.

Thank you, Babe. Just let me brush my teeth and freshen up before I eat”, I said.

“Take your time”, he replied, leaning against the door frame. “But don’t be too long. Since I’ve already cleared your schedule, I thought we could make a day of it. We’re going on a date, Babe. It’s been far too long since I had you all to myself”.

I nodded, my heart sinking at the thought of spending hours pretending to be enamored with him. “That sounds… lovely”.

As soon as he left the room, the “doting wife” mask fell. I stared at the eggs as if they were poisoned. I didn’t trust anything he touched. I buzzed the intercom for the kitchen, “Martha? Could you come up and take this tray back down? I’m not feeling the eggs. Just bring me a strong cup of black coffee, please.

I spent the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and scrubbing my skin until it was red. I needed to feel clean. I needed to feel sharp.

Once I was dressed in a simple silk dress and a cardigan, I walked toward the master bedroom. I stopped just outside the door.

Larry’s voice drifted through the gap, low and urgent. “I told you, it’s handled. She’s home today. I’m keeping her distracted…. No, she doesn’t suspect a thing”.

A sharp click followed. Silence.

I waited three seconds, then pushed the door open. Larry was standing by the window, his phone already tucked into his pocket. He spun around, his expression shifting instantly back to “husband mode”.

“Done already?” he asked, his voice a fraction too loud.

I wasn’t really hungry”, I said, walking toward my vanity. “Martha is bringing me some coffee. Who was that on the phone? You sounded intense”.

“Just Mr. Marcus”, Larry said smoothly.“He’s breathing down my neck about the Southwest acquisition. I told him I’m off the clock today to be with my wife”.

Lies. Marcus wouldn’t be calling Larry’s personal line to talk shop on a Tuesday morning.

“Oh, okay”, I murmured, sitting down to brush my hair. “So, where are we going on this mysterious date?”

“Wherever you want, babe”.

I’d love to go to the Miller Gallery”, I said, watching him through the mirror. “I heard they have a new exhibition of impressionist paintings. I need something beautiful to look at”.

Larry giggled, a boyish sound that felt entirely out of place. “The gallery it is. We’re going to have so much fun, Babe. Just like old times”.

He headed into the bathroom to start his shower, leaving his phone sitting innocently on the nightstand. My pulse began to race. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A message from Mr. Sterling…

“File sent. Check your secure cloud. Once you transfer it to his device, it will hide itself in his system files. I need five minutes for a full install”.

I watched the bathroom door. The sound of the shower had started-a steady, rhythmic hiss. Larry started to sing-a muffled, upbeat tune.

This was it.

I lunged for his phone. My fingers were trembling so hard I almost dropped it. I swiped up, and it was locked. I tried our anniversary, incorrect. I tried my birthday, incorrect. I even tried the date of our first meeting at the supermarket, but it was incorrect as well.

A cold realization washed over me. He wasn’t even sentimental enough to use our milestones as a shroud for his lies. I stared at the screen, panic rising as the shower continued to hiss. Then, I remembered. A few weeks ago, at the pool, I’d seen a small, fresh tattoo on the inside of his bicep. A series of numbers.

08-12-2021. Leo’s birthday.

I punched the numbers in; click. The home screen blossomed into life.

I didn’t waste a second. I pulled up the file from my cloud and initiated the Bluetooth transfer.

0%... 10%.... 30%....

Larry’s singing grew quieter. I heard the sound of the water turning off. My heart was thumping so loudly I was sure he could hear it through the walls.

55%... 70%...

I heard the heavy “clunk” of the glass shower door opening.

“Babe? Did Martha bring that coffee yet?” he called out, his voice much clearer now.

“Not yet!” I shouted back, my voice cracking. “I’m just… looking for my lipstick!”

90%... 95%...

I heard his footsteps on the tile. He was reaching for a towel. Any second now, he would walk through that door and see me holding his life in his hands.

100%. Transfer complete. Installing…

The progress bar vanished. The file hid itself. I swiped the phone back to the lock screen, wiped my sweaty fingerprints off the glass with my cardigan, and set it back on the nightstand in the exact position I’d found it.

I dove for my vanity chair just as the bathroom door swung open. Larry walked out, a towel wrapped around his waist, steam clinging to his skin.

“You okay, babe?” he asked, looking at me. “You look a little… flushed”.

I picked a powder brush and swept it across my cheeks, my reflection pale and haunted. “Just excited for the gallery, Babe. It’s been a while since we’ve had a day like this”.

“Yes”, he said, picking up his phone and checking the screen. My heart stopped as his thumb hovered over the glass. “It certainly has”.

He didn’t t notice a thing. He tucked the phone into his pocket and headed for his closet.

I looked at my own phone. A small green dot appeared on my screen. The wiretap was live.

The date was on. And for the first time, I was the one holding the remote.