Chapter 7 - Facing the Other Woman
Villa Seven sat on a secluded stone terrace overlooking the marina, shrouded by weeping willows and manicured boxwood hedges. A wooden sign carved with the words The Honeymoon Retreat swung gently in the breeze beside the flagstone walkway.
I walked up the path with steady, unhurried steps. Behind me, Daniel dragged his feet like a condemned prisoner marching toward the scaffold, his head bowed, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.
I didn't knock politely. I struck the heavy cedar door three times with the flat of my palm—loud, sharp, and demanding.
Inside, the faint murmur of soft jazz music cut off abruptly. Footsteps padded across the hardwood floor.
The door swung open, and there stood Elena Vance.
She was young—perhaps twenty-six or twenty-seven—wearing a plush white hotel robe with her damp blonde hair wrapped in a matching towel. She had a cup of herbal tea in one hand and a relaxed, radiant smile on her face.
"Daniel, did you forget your—"
Her words died in her throat.
Her gaze slid from the expensive sunglasses perched on my face down to my tailored wool coat, then past my shoulder to where Daniel stood cowering on the stone steps.
The smile vanished from her lips, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated shock. The cup of tea in her hand began to tremble, liquid sloshing over the porcelain rim onto the pristine welcome mat.
"Good morning, Elena," I said smoothly, removing the sunglasses with a flick of my wrist and holding them out toward her. "I believe you left these in my husband’s duffel bag. I wanted to make sure they were returned before you checked out."
Elena’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She looked at Daniel, her eyes pleading for an explanation, for an intervention, for anything. But Daniel wouldn't look at her; he kept his eyes glued to his shoes, silent as a stone.
"You're... you're Clara," Elena finally whispered, clutching the collar of her robe tightly against her throat.
"I am Mrs. Parker," I corrected her gently, stepping forward.
Elena instinctively took two steps back into the villa’s foyer, leaving the door wide open. I walked inside without waiting for an invitation, taking in the scene: the half-eaten room service breakfast on the low table, the empty champagne flutes, the roaring gas fireplace.
"This is private property," Elena stammered, trying to muster some semblance of professional dignity, though her voice shook violently. "You can't just barge in here!"
"Actually, Elena, technically speaking, this room was booked using Bennett & Collins Corporate Account funds," I replied, pulling a printed copy of the hotel invoice from my purse and laying it on the glass table. "Which means this isn't private property. It’s corporate embezzlement. And considering my name is listed on Daniel’s joint spousal benefits and equity packages, I have every right to inspect where my household assets are being allocated."
Elena turned pale. The confidence of a woman having an illicit weekend romance evaporated instantly, replaced by the stark terror of a young professional whose career was flashing before her eyes.
"Daniel told me you two were separated," she said, her voice rising in panic, pointing an accusing finger at my husband. "He told me you had already filed papers! He said you were living in separate bedrooms and dividing the assets!"
I let out a soft, genuine laugh that echoed off the high timber ceiling.
"Is that what he told you?" I turned to look at Daniel, who winced. "Daniel, did you forget to mention that on Thursday night you asked me to iron your lucky presentation shirts, kissed me on the cheek, and promised to bring home apple cider for the kids on Sunday? Did you leave out that tiny detail?"
Elena turned to Daniel, her eyes wide with betrayal. "You lied to me? You told me your marriage was over!"
"Elena, please, it’s complicated—" Daniel began, but she cut him off with a furious shriek.
"Complicated?! I’m up for the associate vice presidency in December! If HR gets wind of this, I’m blacklisted from the entire financial district! You told me this was safe!"
"Nothing about building a fantasy on someone else’s misery is safe, Elena," I said quietly, cutting through their mounting panic.
May you like
I took out my phone, unlocked the screen, and placed it on the counter beside the invoice.
"Here is what is going to happen," I announced. Both of them fell silent, looking at me as if I held their lives in my hands—because, in truth, I did.
