Silent secrets, Burning love

CHAPTER3

Ariella’s POV

My knees gave way, and I collapsed onto the floor of the hotel room.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears, louder than any sound I had heard since I had my surgery.

It was cruelly ironic—the first real moment of hearing again, and it brought me betrayal.

Not joy.

Not Daniel’s voice saying my name.

But this. A woman laughing, her heels clicking on our floor, her arms draping over the man I had once believed loved me for who I was.

My fingers trembled as I picked up the phone from the floor, wiping the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. The video was still open, paused on the frame where Daniel’s hand gripped the woman’s waist as she climbed onto the bed.

But it wasn’t just any woman.

It was Chloe.

I stared at the screen, unable to move. The video played on.

The same woman I had laughed with through pain, who I thought was family.

And there she was—in my house, on my bed, with my husband.

“Ariella is so dumb,” Chloe purred, brushing Daniel’s hair back as she kissed him. “She actually believed me when I told her our dirty stuff—right to her face.”

He laughed, deep and low, his hand trailing up her thigh.

“I still don’t get why you’re with her,” Chloe said, peeling her blouse open. Her large, perky breasts bounced free, and she cupped them proudly, teasing his lips.

“When this is right here for you, does she f**k you more than I do?”

“Mmm,” Daniel moaned, his voice thick with arousal. “She can’t f**k, Hell no—you’re the best, Chloe.”

She unhooked his belt slowly, drawing his c**k free with practiced hands.

“Then show me how much you missed me,” she whispered, before taking his c**k into her mouth.

His head fell back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as she bobbed her head over him, slurping and sucking while his fingers tangled in her hair.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, feeling my stomach twist, my eyes blurring again—but I couldn’t stop

I scrubbed through the footage, half afraid of what else I might find—but I needed to know. I needed the truth, no matter how much it cut.

Another figure entered the frame.

Mia.

The house help.

She walked in like it was her bedroom, wearing nothing but a see-through red lingerie set that clung to her thick, curvy frame. Her hips swayed confidently as she approached the bed.

“Hope I’m not late for the party,” she said with a wicked grin.

Chloe laughed, still straddling Daniel. He pulled Mia in by the waist and kissed her, his hands roaming freely.

And then they were all over each other.

Hands. Mouths. Skin.

Daniel lay back as both women took turns on him. Chloe rode him hard, moaning his name while Mia kissed his chest and played with his balls.

The air was filled with filthy sounds—wet, raw, and real.

The bed squeaked under their weight. Their moans mixed together like a soundtrack of lust and betrayal.

On my matrimonial bed, in my home.

My vision went dark for a moment as I gripped the edge of the bed beside me, choking back a sob that threatened to tear me apart.

I had been unconscious in a hospital bed, fighting to hear again—for him.

And he had been busy letting my best friend and our house help f**k him in the house we built together.

I thought I was healing. I thought I was coming back to rebuild something broken.

But it was all a lie.

My phone buzzed it was a message from Chloe.

“Hey babe, just checking up on you.How’s your trip? Hope you’re getting enjoying your stay at New York !”

My jaw clenched. The audacity.

The gall.

Pretending to care while she still had Daniel’s taste on her lips.

I didn’t respond.

I opened the security app again and tapped Download All. Every frame. Every groan. Every betrayal—backed up and saved.

***********

I couldn’t stay in that room.

Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

I needed to forget about everything for awhile.

I threw on a hoodie, shoved my phone in my bag, and left the hotel like a ghost chasing a distraction. The New York night air was warm, the city buzzing around me as I arrived at the bar, its neon sign flickering La Luna.

Inside, the air’s thick with tequila and sweat, a salsa band’s rhythm pulsing through the floor. I slide onto a barstool, requested for a shot, and down it, the burn searing my throat, dulling the ache.

Vodka. Tequila. Shots that burned going down and did nothing to numb the ache in my chest.

I danced. I laughed. I faked it.

And when that didn’t work—I got high and sat on a the barstool helplessly.

A shadow falls over me, and I look up, Ethan Navarro, his black tee hugging his broad shoulders, hazel eyes wide with concern. His stubble catches the bar’s dim light, and he leans close, lips moving slow.

Ethan Navarro.

Daniel’s boss. The billionaire CEO. Tall. Commanding. Dangerous. The man who always lingered too long when I was around.

He has been making quiet moves for months—even knowing I was married.

“Whoa. Ariella?”

His voice snapped through my fog.

I blinked. “Ethan?”

It came out loud.

He stared at me like I was a ghost.

“You… you can speak?” His brows drew together. “And hear?”

I nod, tears brimming, and he slides into the stool beside me, his knee brushing mine.

The tequila loosens my tongue, and I tell him, Daniel’s threesome with Chloe and Mia, the footage, my secret surgery in New York. “I thought he adored me.” I gasp, my voice breaking, the words still alien.

Warm and calloused, Ethan's hand envelops mine; his thumb follows my knuckles.

Ethan’s jaw clenched hard. “He told everyone he was taking care of you. That you were sick.”

He shook his head. “He’s not even on a trip with me—I’ve been in New York all week. Alone.”

Something snapped inside me.

The lies were endless.

“You’re coming with me,” Ethan said, slipping off his jacket and wrapping it around me. “You’re not staying out here like this.”

I flush, his words a spark in my darkness. “Does Daniel know you can speak?” he asks, leaning closer, his breath warm.

“Not yet,” I whisper.

The band’s beat fades, the bar blurring as his gaze holds mine. I’m drunk, raw, and craving something real.

“Make me forget him, I grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him.

He froze—just for a second—before grabbing my waist and kissing me back, rough and urgent.

We stumble out, his hand on my lower back, guiding me to his Maserati. His South Beach penthouse is all glass and moonlight, the city sprawling below.

We got into his luxury apartment and without delay, he grabbed my butt, and raised me up to his waist. His kisses are hungry, tasting of whiskey, his hands reverent as they trace my curves. We fall into his bed, a rush of skin and heat, and for the first time, I feel alive, unmoored but free.

Ethan stroked my core so hard that I couldn't stop moaning, trembling on his bed, my nails digging his bedsheets as he pumped me hard. I couldn't control the intense orgasms, it was multiple, something I have never had with Daniel.

“Say my name,” he growled against my ear.

“Ethan,” I moaned, louder than I’d ever spoken before.

And for the first time in forever—I wasn’t thinking about Daniel.