His Unavailable Wife: Sir, You've Lost Me

Isla’s POV "Mrs. Astor, is everything alright?" Kev's voice pulled me back. I realized I'd been staring out the window for too long, watching the city blur past without really seeing it. I managed a smile. "I'm fine." Kev had been my driver for five years. Five years of opening car doors, of patient silence. He was good at his job. He saw things. His expression softened in the rearview mirror. "You must be thinking about the anniversary gift for Mr. Astor." He smiled. "He's a lucky man." "Kev," I said. "Where did you honeymoon with your wife?" He laughed. "Oh, that was twenty years ago, ma'am. I was poor back then. We went to Scotland. She loved it there." His ears turned slightly pink. "Not that I could ever be like Mr. Astor. Us regular guys just do what we can." I said nothing. "Look! It's Mr. Astor." I followed Kev's pointing finger. The massive electronic billboard on Fifth Avenue lit up with my husband's face. Another interview. This wasn't unusual. The face was familiar—perfectly handsome, perfectly composed. Theo Astor. The youngest generation of the Astor dynasty, one of New York's most influential families. They'd built an empire on real estate. Theo had leveraged it with something more valuable—a flawless reputation. For three consecutive years, he'd won "America's Best Husband" like it was a business award. The media loved our story. How he'd taken a bullet for me—a bullet that stopped millimeters from his heart. How he'd built a skyscraper and named it IS, my initials, housing his largest fashion enterprise as a monument to eternal love. Romantic, wasn't it? It would have been, if I hadn't walked into that very building two weeks ago. I'd gone to surprise him. Lunch from his favorite Italian place, the one we'd discovered on our honeymoon. And then I'd heard it. Through that narrow gap, I could see them. Amanda. Her skirt was bunched around her waist. Her legs were wrapped around him, ankles locked behind his back. Her head thrown back, blonde hair spilling over documents. And Theo. His hands gripping her hips, his suit jacket still on but his shirt untucked. "Master," she'd gasped, her voice breaking. "God, master—f**k me harder—" "Like this?" He thrust harder and I heard the desk scrape against the floor. "Is this what you've been thinking about all day?" "Yes—God, yes—" Amanda's head fell back. "That's it," he'd growled. His voice. "Tell me what you want." "I love you, Theo." She'd pulled his face to hers, kissing him desperately. "I love you so much. I want us to have this forever." "We can have this," he'd saidl. "But I won't divorce. You understand that, right? Isla and I built everything together. I can't just—" "I know." Amanda's voice had gone small. "I know. I just... I need you to say you love me too." "I do." He'd kissed her forehead. "You know I do." Should I have been grateful? My husband was cheating but at least he remembered he had a wife. Theo cared about his reputation, his empire. That's why he wouldn't leave. I wiped my eyes now, in the back of the car, though no tears fell. I'd cried enough in the past two weeks. Theo didn't deserve more. Fireworks exploded across the sky—enormous blue chrysanthemums blooming against the twilight. I rolled down the window, letting the cool air hit my face. Someone was probably getting engaged. Someone was still naive enough to believe in happy endings. My phone buzzed in my lap. A confirmation request for the specialized service contract. I glanced at the screen, then locked it without responding. The car slowed as we approached the house. Our house. The limestone townhouse on the Upper East Side that Architectural Digest had featured last year as "a love nest for New York's most devoted couple." "Have a good evening, Mrs. Astor," Kev said as he opened my door. "You too, Kev." Theo's text had come through twenty minutes ago: Working late. Don't wait up. Six months ago, I would have believed him. Now I knew exactly what "working late" meant. I kicked off my heels in the foyer. The TV in the living room was still on—I must have left it running this morning. Theo's face filled the screen, a rerun of today's interview. "I love my wife more than eternity itself," his voice echoed through the empty room. I found the remote and turned it off. Let his lies die in the silence. Upstairs, I let the hot water wash away the day. The steam, the expensive soap, the ritual of it all—none of it helped. I finally stepped out, wrapped in a towel, sat on the edge of the bed and opened my email. The document loaded. Complete simulated death service, including erasure of all identity traces. I stared at the words, my cursor hovering over the confirmation button. A sound downstairs made me freeze. The front door. Keys hitting the table in the foyer. He was home early. I closed the laptop just as footsteps started up the stairs. The bedroom door opened. Theo stood in the doorway, loosening his tie. He looked at me and smiled,. "Hey, you." He crossed the room, and I caught it—the faint sweetness of perfume clinging to his shirt. Not mine. Something floral. His arms wrapped around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. "What were you looking at?" His breath was warm against my neck. I closed the laptop smoothly. "Just work." "Work." He turned me around to face him, his hands settling on my waist. "It's almost midnight. You should be resting." "So should you." I met his eyes. "Long meeting?" "Endless." He sighed. "The investors wanted to go over every detail three times. You know how they are." "I do. You must be exhausted." "I am." He pulled me closer, his hands sliding down to my hips. "But I'm home now. With you. That's all that matters." ”Come to bed." His voice dropped lower. "I need you." I let him kiss me. Let him think everything was normal. He'd forgotten something about me. When I loved, I loved with everything. When I left, I left the same way. Completely.