Audrey Billionaire Revenge: A Marriage Built On Lies

Audrey POV Friday, October 14th [8:47 PM] Williams Penthouse, Manhattan The elevator opened to candlelight and silence. Audrey stepped into the penthouse. Her heels clicked twice, then she stopped. The dining table was set for two. Candles burned low, wax melting around them. The champagne was already open. There were two glasses, not just one. But only one had been touched. She put her clutch on the table. She didn't call his name. Something felt off, like someone had just left in a hurry. The dinner smelled warm. The lighting was set just right. Soft jazz played from the speakers, low and romantic. It was a specific song, one Scott had chosen. Scott chose this music for their first date. She walked to the table and picked up the champagne bottle. It was still cold, having been opened not long ago. She put it down slowly and looked toward the bedroom hallway. The door was partly open. She took off her heels and carried them. Her feet moved before her mind did. The marble felt cold through her stockings. The jazz music got fainter as she walked down the hall. She had been married to Scott for two years. She knew the sounds of this apartment at night. The faint buzz of the hall light near the third sconce. The bedroom door always clicked shut because of the latch. But it hasn't clicked shut now. It was resting open, at an angle that seemed intentional. She stopped outside the door. Through the gap, she heard his voice. It was low and a little rough, like when he was trying to explain something he didn't want to. Then, a woman's voice. Soft. Calm. Audrey didn't reach for the door. She pushed it open with two fingers. Scott stood near the window, his jacket off, top shirt button open. Elena Chase was next to him, her hand on his arm. She leaned into him, clearly not by accident. Her hair was down. Her dress was not for a business meeting. Scott saw Audrey first. A look crossed his face. Not guilt right away, but more like confusion, before he fully understood what he was seeing. He started to speak. "Audrey." Elena didn't step back. This was what Audrey noticed first. Not Scott's voice, not how close they were, not the champagne on the nightstand she hadn't even seen yet. It was that Elena Chase looked at her and didn't move. She stayed put. Her hand stayed on Scott's arm for one second longer than it should have. That second said everything. "I got your message," Audrey said. Her voice was steady. "About dinner." Scott's jaw moved. "This isn't what it looks like." She had heard that before. Not from him, but enough time to know it always meant it was exactly what it looked like. She didn't move from the doorway. She didn't look at Elena again. She looked at Scott with a calm look, the kind that comes when you finally see something you've been avoiding for a long time. "I'm going to give you a moment," she said. She pulled the door closed behind her. Quietly. All the way until the latch clicked. She walks slowly back down the hall. The jazz music is still on. The candles are still burning. She picks up her bag from the table and stands by the window, looking out at the city. She's many floors up from the street. She presses her thumbnail into her palm once, hard. Then she lets go. She doesn't know what really happened. She knows how it looked, and how Elena Chase wanted it to look. She knows these two things might not be the same. She won't decide anything in the next minute. And she won't just stand in her dining room waiting for someone to explain things. She picks up the used champagne glass and looks at the lipstick mark on the rim. It's a deep pink, not her color. She puts it back down, turning the mark towards the wall. Then she sees something. It's not clear. It's hard to see. A big mirror in the living room, facing the dining table and the hall, shows something in its reflection that shouldn't be there. There's a small shine in the top right of the mirror's frame. Not from the candles. It's from something on the shelf next to it. A small, dark object. It doesn't fit with the other items like pottery and books. She looks away fast. Her heart is calm, but her mind races. She saw it for a second and didn't look again. If it's what she thinks it is, she shouldn't stare at it. The jazz music keeps playing. Her anniversary dinner is getting cold behind her. She thinks about how Elena didn't move. The bedroom door was open. Scott's special music was playing. The champagne was opened just before she got there. She thinks about how everything happened at the right time. She thinks about how this would look to someone watching. A wife walks in. She sees her husband with another woman. She gets upset. But she didn't react that way. Not the way they wanted her to. She calmly picks up her bag again and walks to the elevator. She doesn't look at the shelf. She doesn't look towards the hall. She pushes the call button and watches the metal doors as the elevator hums. The elevator comes. She gets inside. She waits for the doors to close. In the few seconds before they completely shut, she lets herself do one thing. She looks at herself in the elevator mirror. Her makeup is perfect. Her face is calm. Her hands are still. She looks like a woman who had a nice Friday night and just decided to leave early. Good. Because whoever set up that scene upstairs is still watching. And she didn't do what they wanted. The doors close. She reaches for her phone in her bag and feels her hands finally, quietly, shaking.