CHAPTER FIVE: LIES IN SILK SHEETS
971 Words
Two Days Later
The mansion was too quiet.
Too clean. Too cold.
Adrian hadn’t spoken to Roxy since that night at The Den.
The night he found out the woman he was f*****g in a mask was his own wife.
He hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t hit the walls. Hadn’t confronted her.
He simply vanished into silence.
And somehow, that was worse.
Roxy wandered the halls like a ghost, robe dragging behind her, her hand always on her belly.
The baby. The marriage. The lies.
All of it—smothering her.
She hadn’t even tried to explain. What could she say?
That she didn’t know?
That she hadn’t meant for it to happen?
That she liked it?
Because part of her did.
FLASHBACK: THE MOMENT AFTER
He left her naked in that room, mask in hand.
She sat in silence for what felt like hours, staring at the door, at her shaking hands.
Then she laughed.
Broken. Bitter.
Because this—this—was exactly what she deserved.
BACK IN THE PRESENT
Adrian stood at the far end of the garden, by the koi pond. His back was straight, suit perfect, glass of whiskey in hand.
Roxy approached slowly.
“You look like you’re at a funeral,” she said.
“I am.”
His voice was quiet. Dead.
“You could at least yell at me.”
“I don’t yell at whores.”
That word burned worse than any slap.
She didn’t react.
He took a sip of whiskey, eyes on the water.
“I should’ve known. I should’ve never trusted you.”
“I didn’t know it was you,” she said softly. “You wore a mask. You never talked.”
“You went there pregnant with my child and still spread your legs for a stranger.”
Her voice cracked. “That wasn’t the plan.”
“Was there a plan?”
She shook her head.
“I’m messed up, Adrian. You know that. I’ve always been messed up.”
He finally turned to face her.
And what he saw broke something in him.
She was crying. For the first time since they met. Not dramatic tears. Quiet ones.
The kind that tasted like guilt.
The kind that looked real.
“YOU WANT THE TRUTH?”
She took a breath, bracing herself.
“You want the real story? Why I am the way I am?”
He didn’t answer. But didn’t walk away either.
“I was fifteen when I learned what men really wanted from me. Not love. Not kindness. Just a warm hole and a pretty face.”
His hand tightened around the glass.
“I stopped believing in loyalty before I even finished high school. And every man after that just... confirmed it.”
She stepped closer.
“I don’t sleep around because I’m addicted to s*x. I do it because it gives me power. Because when they want me, I control the rules. I decide who touches me. Who begs for me. Who needs me.”
She met his gaze.
“But with you? I can’t control anything. You scare the hell out of me.”
Silence.
Then: “Why?”
“Because I think I might actually love you.”
Adrian stared at her.
No reaction.
Then he walked back to the house without a word.
The glass shattered on the stones behind him.
THAT NIGHT
Roxy didn’t sleep in the master bedroom.
She couldn’t.
Instead, she lay in the guest room, curled under the sheets like a child, hand on her belly.
The baby kicked for the first time.
And she cried.
SOMEONE NEW ARRIVES
At 10AM the next day, the mansion gates buzzed.
“Ma’am,” the security guard said over the intercom. “You have a visitor. He claims to be your brother.”
Roxy froze.
“…What?”
“His name is Dante Vale.”
Her blood went cold.
Not her brother.
Not him.
She grabbed the intercom.
“Don’t let him in!”
But it was too late.
He was already at the front door.
DANTE VALE
Tall. Lean. Tattooed. With a smile that could charm devils and a stare that froze time.
He stepped into the foyer like he owned it.
“Roxy,” he said, voice smooth. “Still making rich men suffer?”
She didn’t speak.
He stepped closer, and whispered:
“Or are you too busy f*****g your husband in masks these days?”
Her palm slapped his face before she could stop herself.
But Dante only smiled.
“There’s the little sister I remember.”
THE PAST RETURNS
Dante wasn’t really her brother.
Not by blood.
But close enough.
They’d grown up in the same group home. Same hell.
He taught her how to steal. How to lie. How to seduce.
He was the first man she ever slept with.
And the first one who ever hurt her.
Now he was back.
And that could only mean one thing: blackmail.
DINNER WITH THE DEVIL
Adrian returned that evening to find Dante lounging on the velvet sofa, drinking his scotch like he belonged.
“Who the hell are you?” Adrian demanded.
“Family,” Dante smirked.
Roxy stood in the corner, pale.
“He’s no one,” she said quickly.
“I’m the man who knows where the bodies are buried,” Dante said, eyes never leaving Adrian. “Starting with what your lovely wife used to do for money... before she married your billions.”
Adrian’s jaw twitched.
Roxy stepped in. “He’s lying.”
“Am I?”
Dante pulled out a phone.
One click.
A video.
Roxy. In a hotel room. Years ago.
On her knees.
Begging.
Adrian turned away.
Roxy’s heart stopped.
Dante smiled.
“I’m not here to ruin her, Mr. King. I’m here to negotiate.”
- Writer
