If only she knew

The sun was setting over the city, painting the sky in deep shades of orange and purple. Elena stood by the floor to ceiling window of her penthouse living room, watching the lights of the city flicker on one by one. She adjusted the heavy diamond bracelet on her wrist. It was a gift from Marcus, her husband of three years. To anyone looking in from the outside, Elena had the perfect life. She lived in a house filled with silk carpets and gold trimmed furniture. She never had to worry about money, and she was married to a man that every woman in the city wanted. Marcus was the CEO of a major construction firm. He was powerful, handsome, and always seemed to know exactly what Elena needed before she even asked for it. He called her his "Queen," and he treated her like she was the most precious thing in the world. But lately, the silence in the house felt heavy. Elena felt like she was living in a beautiful museum rather than a home. She heard the soft hum of the private elevator. A moment later, the doors opened, and Marcus walked in. He looked perfect in his tailored black suit, though his tie was slightly loosened. He immediately walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into a warm embrace. He smelled like his signature expensive cologne leather and sandalwood but tonight, there was a faint metallic scent on him that Elena didn't recognize. "How was my beautiful wife’s day?" he whispered into her ear. His voice was smooth, like expensive wine. "It was quiet, Marcus. I missed you," she replied, leaning her head against his chest. She wanted to feel the safety she usually felt in his arms, but her heart was racing for no reason. "I missed you more," he said, pulling back to look at her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. "I saw this at the jeweler today and knew it belonged on you." Inside was a necklace that matched her bracelet. It was stunning, but Elena felt a strange shiver. Marcus was always buying her things. It was his way of showing love, but sometimes it felt like he was trying to distract her from something. They sat down for dinner in the grand dining room. The table was long enough to seat twenty people, but it was just the two of them at the very end. Marcus talked about his day at the construction firm. He spoke about millions of dollars and new buildings as if they were nothing. Elena listened, nodding her head at the right times, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't stop thinking about that metallic smell she had noticed when he first walked in. It didn't smell like a construction site. It smelled like old copper, or perhaps, blood. "You're very quiet tonight, Elena," Marcus said, setting his silver fork down. The sound clinked sharply against the fine china plate. "I'm just a little tired, Marcus," she lied, forced a smile. "The house felt very big today." Marcus reached across the table and squeezed her hand. His grip was firm, almost too firm. "I told you, you should go out more. Use the driver. Buy something new. I work this hard so you never have to feel small." After dinner, Marcus excused himself to take a long shower. Elena stayed behind to help the maid clear the table. As she walked toward the hallway, she saw Marcus’s suit jacket draped over the back of a velvet chair. Usually, Marcus was very neat, but he must have been distracted. A small piece of white paper was sticking out of the inner breast pocket. Elena looked toward the stairs. She could hear the heavy thud of the water running in the master bathroom upstairs. Her heart began to drum against her ribs. She knew she shouldn't look. Marcus hated it when people touched his things. He called it "respecting boundaries," but Elena sometimes felt it was more about keeping secrets. She reached out, her fingers trembling, and pulled the paper out. It wasn't a receipt or a business card. It was a handwritten note on a torn piece of expensive stationery. The handwriting was feminine elegant, sharp, and hurried. The words felt like a punch to her stomach: "I’m tired of waiting in the shadows, Marcus. You promised me you would tell her the truth by Friday. If you don't do it, I will come to the house and show her everything." Elena’s breath hitched. Friday was only two days away. The paper felt hot in her hand, like it was burning her skin. She looked at the date on the top of the note. It was from this morning. Elena’s heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat. She heard the water stop upstairs. Any moment now, Marcus would be coming down. She quickly folded the note and shoved it back into the pocket, her hands shaking so much she almost missed the opening. She smoothed the jacket and stepped away, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. She forced herself to walk into the kitchen and grab a glass of water. She needed to look normal. She needed to look like the happy, trusting wife she had been only ten minutes ago. When Marcus walked into the kitchen, he was wearing a silk robe. He looked relaxed, but Elena noticed he was rubbing a spot on his neck. "Is the water okay?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly. "It was fine," he said, walking over to her. As he got closer, she saw it clearly. Under the bright kitchen lights, there was a deep, red scratch just below his ear. It was fresh. It wasn't a mark from a construction site. It was the kind of mark left by fingernails. "Marcus, your neck is bleeding a little," she said, reaching out her hand. He moved away before she could touch him. It was a quick, sharp movement. "It’s nothing, Elena. Just a scratch from some equipment at the office. Don't worry about it." "But it looks painful," she persisted. His eyes narrowed. For a split second, the warmth was gone. His face looked like stone. "I said it’s nothing. Why are you so focused on a scratch?" Elena felt a cold shiver. "I’m sorry. I just... I care about you." He softened his expression, but it felt fake. He reached out and stroked her cheek. His fingers felt like ice. "I know you do. And I care about you too. That’s why I keep you safe here. I don't want the dirt of the outside world touching you." That night, Elena lay in bed next to him. Marcus was sleeping deeply, his chest rising and falling. He looked so peaceful, like a man with no secrets at all. But Elena was wide awake. She thought about the note. Friday. She thought about the woman in the shadows. She got up quietly and walked to the window. The moon was high and bright. She looked down at the long driveway that led to their private gates. At the very edge of the property, a black car was parked. Its lights were off, but she could see the silhouette of someone sitting inside. Just waiting. Elena’s breath fogged the glass. She watched as the car door opened. A woman stepped out and looked up at the penthouse window. She didn't look angry; she looked sad. The woman held up a silver object. It caught the moonlight, and Elena gasped. It was a key a very specific key with a red ribbon tied to it. It was the key to Marcus’s private study, the one room Elena was never allowed to enter. Marcus’s voice suddenly came from the darkness behind her. "The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it, Elena? But you should really be in bed." His hand landed on her shoulder, and his grip was like iron.