Chapter 3

The moment the word left my mouth, his face darkened.

"You're not a mistress," he said through clenched teeth.

"I don't love her. You're the one I want to spend my life with."

"Then did you tell her that?"

"Did you tell your wife that I exist?"

His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

He stood up, paced the room, and turned back to face me.

"I will," he said, enunciating every word. "Just not right now."

"You don't need to anymore."

I stood up, walked over to the front door, and pulled it wide open.

"Get out."

He stayed planted where he was.

"Chloe."

"Out."

Sean looked at the open doorway, then back at me, before finally walking out.

I slammed the door shut, and the lock clicked into place.

His footsteps faded down the hallway, then stopped.

Looking through the peephole, I saw him standing by the elevator, staring down at his phone with no intention of leaving.

I slid down against the door until I hit the floor.

The floorboards were freezing. The cold crept up my spine and spread into every limb.

About ten minutes later, a sound broke the silence outside.

His phone was ringing.

He answered it, and his muffled voice carried through the door.

Whatever the person on the other end said, his tone instantly softened.

"Still caught up at work, honey. I have to work late tonight, don't wait up."

The voice on the phone seemed to murmur a gentle complaint.

"Just leave dinner in the fridge. Put the baby to bed early, get some rest."

After he hung up, the hallway went silent for a few seconds.

Then came his footsteps again. This time, he was truly gone.

My phone vibrated with a message from Jenna.

"Chloe, are you holding up okay? Do you want me to come over?"

My fingers shook as I typed.

"Can you get me his wife's contact info?"

The screen stayed quiet for a long while.

"I don't have her Snapchat anymore. We were connected years ago, but she switched accounts. But I know where they live."

"Give me the address."

"You're going to see her?"

"Yes."

Another pause.

Then the text popped up:

"I went to a housewarming party there three years ago. It's in Riverside Estates, a gated luxury neighborhood. Let me dig through my old chats for the exact house number."

"Thank you."

"Chloe," she sent another text. "Have you thought this through? Making a scene might blow up in your face too."

I stared at the screen for a long time.

She was right. If this blew up, it wouldn't be pretty for me either.

I would become the woman who ruined a marriage. People would whisper behind my back. My boss despised any drama in employees' personal lives, and I could easily lose my job.

But I couldn't swallow this humiliation.

And more than that, I couldn't stomach the thought of that woman remaining completely in the dark.

The phone buzzed again.

A text from an unknown number. Sean.

"Chloe, give me some time. I will give you a proper resolution. I'm going home for tonight, but I'll see you tomorrow. Don't do anything reckless."

I replied with a single word.

"Disappear."

A moment later, Jenna sent over the address along with a map pin.

*Riverside Estates, Block B, Villa 12.*

The attached photo showed a three-story luxury brick house.

I texted back: "Thank you. Let me buy you lunch sometime."

I saved the address to my notes, powered off my phone, and crawled back into bed.

It was nearly four in the morning when I finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning, I called in sick to work.

It was pouring rain outside. I waited ten minutes at the curb before catching an Uber.

The driver asked for my destination, and I read off the address.

The car stopped outside a set of wrought-iron security gates.

I walked down the private community road, lined with lavish detached houses.

Villa 12 sat at the very end of Block B.

I walked up the front steps and pressed the doorbell.

About thirty seconds later, the front door swung open.

The woman who answered wore an ivory loungewear dress under a soft knit cardigan. Her hair was swept into an effortless, elegant twist. She looked gentle and composed.

She was a few years older than me, with refined features and glowing skin—the kind of woman who was clearly well-cared-for and lived an easy life.

She looked at me with slight confusion, but offered a polite smile.

"Hi, can I help you?"

Looking at her, words caught in my throat.

After two seconds of silence, I drew a steady breath.

"Are you Sean Carter's wife?"

"I am."

Her smile faded slightly, probably realizing I wasn't just a friendly neighbor.

"And you are?"

"My name is Chloe."

I met her gaze directly.

"I'm your husband's other girlfriend."