Chapter 2 - The Aster Hotel
The silence in the kitchen was so profound that I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator motor. Lucas stared at his glowing phone screen as if it were a venomous snake, his hands trembling at his sides. The flimsy excuses he had spent the last minute manufacturing evaporated into thin air, leaving only the naked, ugly reality of his betrayal.
"Are you going to answer her?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. "Or should I pick it up and tell her the surprise delivery was a massive success?"
Lucas lunged forward, grabbing his phone off the counter and shoving it into his trouser pocket as if that could erase what I had already read. "Maya, wait. It’s not what you think. It’s... it’s a stupid joke from a client, or a marketing stunt—"
"A marketing stunt with an engraved hotel keycard and an anniversary note from a woman calling you 'Baby'?" I cut him off, stepping away from the island and narrowing my eyes. "Do you take me for an absolute fool, Lucas? Who is Sophie?"
He ran a hand frantically through his hair, pacing across the kitchen tile. "She’s... she’s nobody! Just someone I met through work last year. It didn't mean anything! It was a mistake, Maya, a brief lapse in judgment when we were having a rough patch—"
"A rough patch?" I repeated, my voice rising sharply. "We were trying to buy our first home eleven months ago while I was working double shifts to support your startup! And you were checking into the Aster Hotel celebrating an 'anniversary' with a mistress?"
"Keep your voice down," Lucas hissed, glancing nervously toward the hallway as if neighbors might overhear his humiliation. "I ended it months ago! I swear to God, it’s over! She’s just... she’s unstable, obviously, sending weird packages to the house to try and blow up my life!"
"Oh, your life is going to blow up, Lucas, but she won't be the one holding the dynamite," I said, a cold, hard resolve settling deep into my bones.
I turned my back on him, walked straight to the mudroom, grabbed my car keys and my trench coat, and headed for the front door.
"Maya! Where are you going?" Lucas shouted, trailing behind me. "Don't walk out! Let's talk about this like adults!"
"We have nothing left to talk about," I said over my shoulder. "Enjoy your afternoon with Sophie's gift. I'm going to go find out just how long your 'mistake' has been going on."
I drove straight to the Aster Hotel—a five-star boutique establishment located in downtown Chicago. The neon marquee glowed against the dusk sky as I parked my car in the valet circle. I didn't know what I was looking for, but I knew that if Sophie was arrogant enough to mail a framed hotel keycard to my marital home, she was connected to this place in a way the front desk staff might recognize.
Walking into the opulent, dimly lit lobby, I approached the mahogany concierge desk. A young man in a crisp tailored suit smiled warmly. "Good evening, ma'am. Welcome to the Aster. How can I assist you today?"
"Hi," I said, flashing a fabricated, bright smile. "I'm meeting a colleague, but I'm running early. Could you tell me if a regular guest here—a Mr. Lucas Parker—has checked into his usual suite today? I want to make sure I'm waiting in the right lounge."
The concierge tapped rapidly on his computer terminal, his polite smile remaining fixed. "Let me check our reservation logs, Mrs. Parker. One moment... Ah, yes. Mr. Lucas Parker maintains an executive corporate account with us. However, he does not have an active check-in under his name for tonight." He paused, scrolling further down the screen. "Though, if you're looking for his companion, Ms. Sophie Lane, she checked into the Penthouse Suite just this afternoon under a multi-day corporate reservation billed directly to—"
The concierge abruptly stopped talking, his eyes widening as he read the billing profile on his screen. The blood rushed in my ears.
May you like
"Billed directly to whom?" I asked quietly.
The concierge swallowed hard, looking up at me with sudden, profound sympathy. "Billed directly to Parker Consulting LLC, ma'am. Your husband's firm."
