His Unavailable Wife: Sir, You've Lost Me

Chapter 4

Isla’s POV

The taxi followed the Mercedes through Manhattan, across the bridge, and onto the highway heading east.

"Thirty years," he said. "Seen a lot of things in this cab. But following cheating husbands? That never gets old."

I almost smiled.

We drove in silence for another hour. The city gave way to suburbs, then to the open stretches of Long Island. The afternoon sun hung low over the water.

"Hamptons," the driver said. "Fancy."

The Mercedes turned off the main road onto a smaller one that wound along the coast. Expensive houses dotted the shoreline, each one more elaborate than the last.

My chest tightened. I knew where we were going.

"Pull over here."

The driver stopped on the shoulder. "You want me to wait?"

"No. Thank you." I handed him two hundred dollars. "You've been very helpful."

He took the money. "You gonna be okay?"

"I will be."

He didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "Good luck, lady."

I watched him drive away, then turned toward the private road.

Our anniversary house. The one we'd bought four years ago to celebrate our first year of marriage. The one with the white shutters and the wrap-around porch and the view of the ocean that had made me cry the first time I saw it.

I stood there for a moment, just looking at it.

The Mercedes was parked in the circular driveway. No sign of Theo or Amanda—they'd already gone inside.

I started walking, staying off the main drive, cutting through the neighbor's property instead. The houses here were far enough apart that no one noticed. No one cared.

Memories rose up with every step.

Theo carrying me over the threshold that first weekend, both of us laughing because he'd nearly dropped me. Making love on every surface of that house like we had all the time in the world. Standing on the beach at sunset while he told me he wanted to grow old here, wanted our children to run across this sand.

I pushed the memories down. They belonged to someone else. Some other Isla.

I reached the property line and paused behind a cluster of beach grass. The house looked exactly the same. White paint, blue shutters, roses climbing the trellis by the door.

Through the windows, I could see into the living room. Empty. They'd gone upstairs.

I waited. Five minutes. Ten.

Then I walked up to the front door.

The keypad lock glowed faintly in the fading light. I punched in the code—my birthday, eight digits I'd chosen because Theo said he'd never forget it.

The lock clicked open.

The house smelled the same. Salt air and cedar and something floral from the potpourri I'd left in bowls throughout the rooms. Everything was exactly as I'd left it six months ago on our last visit.

Except for the clothes scattered across the floor. A man's jacket. Women's heels, red-soled. A silk blouse.

From upstairs came the unmistakable sounds of what they were doing. Amanda's voice, breathless and desperate. Theo's lower, controlled.

I stood in the living room, listening.

This room. We'd picked out that couch together, arguing playfully about whether cream or gray would show less sand. That lamp was from a little antique shop in town—Theo had insisted on buying it because the shopkeeper reminded him of his grandmother. The throw pillows I'd embroidered with our initials during a rainy weekend when the power went out.

On the mantle sat our first anniversary photo. Both of us in white linen, standing ankle-deep in the surf, laughing at something the photographer had said. Theo's arms wrapped around me from behind. My head thrown back against his shoulder. Pure joy captured and framed.

I picked it up, studying the faces of those two people. They looked so young.

I slipped the frame into my bag.

On the floor near the stairs, half-hidden under Theo's jacket, was a scrap of black lace. I picked it up.

A thong. The expensive kind. The fabric was still damp.

From upstairs, Amanda's voice drifted down: "Again? Already? God, you're insatiable—"

Theo's low laugh. "You complain?"

"Never." A breathless giggle.

That thong went into my bag too.

Upstairs, the sounds reached a crescendo. Amanda cried out. Then silence, broken only by low murmurs I couldn't make out.

I'd seen enough. Heard enough.

I walked out the back door onto the deck, down the steps, across the sand to the water's edge.

The beach stretched empty in both directions. The sun was setting now, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Romantic. Beautiful. Wasted on this moment.

I walked to where the waves lapped at the shore. The water was cold against my feet, soaking into my shoes. I didn't care.

I looked down at my left hand. The ring caught the fading light—princess cut diamond, platinum band, engraved inside with Forever, T.

Forever had lasted five years. Not bad, by modern standards.

I twisted the ring off my finger. It resisted for a moment, stuck on my knuckle, then slid free.

The band felt heavy in my palm. All those promises. All those lies. Condensed into nine carats and some precious metal.

I drew my arm back and threw it as far as I could.

The ring arced through the air, caught the sun one last time, and disappeared into a wave.

Gone.

Maybe some tourist would find it. Sell it. Use the money for something useful.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. The fake death service, confirming details.

Final confirmation required: Service date October 11th, 7:00 PM. Location: Hudson River, Pier 81. All documentation and extraction team prepared.

October 11th. Five days from now. Our fifth anniversary.

Theo had told me two weeks ago that he'd planned something special. A yacht party. The biggest one yet. Half of New York's elite would be there to celebrate our love story.

I typed back: YES

Another message came through immediately: Thank you. You will receive final instructions 48 hours prior. Emergency contact number attached. All identity materials will be delivered to your specified location.

I pocketed my phone and looked back at the house. Lights were on in the bedroom now. Shadows moved behind the curtains.

They'd be there for hours, probably.

I turned and started walking down the beach, away from the house. The sand was cool and soft under my feet. The ocean stretched out forever, dark and infinite.

I hope you enjoy tonight, then.