Chapter 3 - The Penthouse Confrontation
The lobby seemed to tilt slightly as the concierge's words settled into my brain. Not only was Lucas still actively seeing Sophie, but he was funding her luxury penthouse lifestyle using corporate funds—money that belonged to our joint future, our taxes, and our livelihood.
"Thank you," I managed to murmur, turning away before the young man could see the hot tears of fury spilling over my lashes.
I didn't head for the exit. Instead, I walked straight to the bank of private elevators, flashed my most confident, untouchable expression at a passing security guard, and slipped into a car that was already moving upward. The digital floor indicator ticked steadily upward: 10, 12, 14, 18, Penthouse.
When the doors slid open with a soft chime, I stepped out onto plush, sound-dampening carpeting. The top floor of the Aster Hotel was a fortress of absolute luxury, featuring only two sprawling suites. I walked down the dimly lit hallway until I found Suite 1902—the penthouse registered to Sophie Lane, funded by Parker Consulting.
I raised my hand and knocked firmly three times against the heavy oak door.
Inside, the muffled sound of music cut off instantly. A few seconds later, footsteps padded lightly across the floor. The deadbolt clicked open, and the door swung inward.
Standing in the entryway was a striking woman in her late twenties, wearing an expensive silk robe, her platinum-blonde hair tumbling in loose waves over her shoulders. She looked at me with an expectant, annoyed expression that instantly curdled into sheer confusion.
"Can I help you?" Sophie asked, frowning.
"You must be Sophie," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet hallway like a razor.
Her eyes widened slightly, recognition flashing across her face as she looked me up and down. "You're... you're Lucas's wife."
"Bingo," I replied, stepping past her uninvited into the sprawling, sunlit penthouse suite.
Sophie stumbled backward, clutching her silk robe tighter around her chest. "You can't just barge in here! This is private property! I'm calling security—"
"Go ahead. Call security," I challenged, turning to face her as I took in the extravagant surroundings: crystal champagne flutes on the table, designer shopping bags scattered across the sofa, and a bouquet of red roses sitting on the coffee table. "Tell them the wife of the man paying your mortgage and your hotel bill is here to audit her investment."
Sophie’s cheeks flushed a mottled red, her initial shock giving way to defensive arrogance. "Well, someone had to tell you the truth! Lucas doesn't love you. He hasn't loved you in years! We've been together for over a year, and he’s planning to leave you the second he finalizes his company restructuring!"
"Is that what he told you?" I asked, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Did he also tell you that Parker Consulting is currently leveraged up to its eyeballs, and that the corporate account paying for this penthouse is actually tied to our marital assets?"
Sophie faltered, her confidence cracking for a split second. "That's... that's not true. He's a successful CEO—"
"He's a failing consultant who has been embezzling joint savings and corporate funds to maintain a lifestyle he can't actually afford," I corrected smoothly, pulling my phone from my pocket. "And congratulations, Sophie. By accepting these accommodations, expensive gifts, and wire transfers knowing they originate from a married executive's corporate accounts, you're now legally tangled in a multi-count financial fraud investigation."
The color drained entirely from Sophie’s face. The glamorous mistress persona evaporated instantly, leaving behind a terrified young woman realizing she had hitched her wagon to a sinking ship.
Before she could form a reply, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was a text message from an unknown number—or rather, from Lucas, who must have borrowed someone else's phone after I blocked his primary line.
May you like
Lucas: Maya, please don't do anything rash. Let's talk. I transferred the house deed into your name. Just come home.
I looked down at the text, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across my face. He was already panicking. He was already trying to surrender. And he had no idea that giving me the house was only the very first installment of the price he was going to pay.
