Chapter 3: Whispers In The Night.

Izzy's Pov.

Later that night, my phone vibrated against the bedside table, dragging me from restless sleep. Groaning, I reached for it—heart hammering before I even saw the name. Adrian.

“Where the hell did you go?” His voice was low, sharp, and furious.

I swallowed, curling tighter under the blankets with Matt’s warmth beside me. “I… I wasn’t feeling well,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you…”

“Not good enough,” he snapped, and I could almost see the dark fire in his eyes even through the line. “And now… I’m hearing things. About a pregnancy.”

Heat pooled in my stomach, shame and guilt twisting together. I forced myself out of bed, careful not to wake Matt. Slipping past him, I grabbed the phone, tiptoeing into the living room. Whispering was the only option—every word needed to be quiet, every breath controlled.

“I… don’t know what you’re hearing,” I said, voice barely above a murmur. “It’s not confirmed yet…”

“Izzy,” he growled, the restraint in his voice making my pulse spike. “Do you have any idea how much I hate having to share you? How much I hate knowing that you… hide me from him?”

A shiver ran down my spine. His words were sharp, jagged, full of hunger and frustration. I pressed myself against the wall, knowing if he were here, I’d be melting under the force of him. “Adrian… he's my husband. You're my boss and brother in law. I… I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” His voice dropped lower, closer, even though he wasn’t there. “Stop wanting me? Stop thinking about me? You’re mine, Izzy. Mine. And yet… you’re in his bed while I can only hear your voice in the dark?”

I pressed a hand to my mouth, stifling a gasp. The truth of it—the forbidden, dangerous pull he had on me—throbbed through every nerve. I wasn’t supposed to want him like this. I wasn’t supposed to crave him while Matt slept unaware. But the words, the jealousy, the need in his voice—it made me tremble.

I leaned against the sofa, whispering, “I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I—”

Suddenly, the living room door clicked. Matt’s voice called softly, half-awake, half-curious: “Is that… my brother?”

I froze. Heart leaping. Whispering, I nodded. “Work. It’s… work.”

Matt’s footsteps padded closer. His hand skimmed my shoulder, speaking loud enough for Adrian to hear.

“It’s late, man. I’m sure your work can wait. My pregnant wife has to rest.”

Before I could protest, he snatched the phone from my hand. “Goodnight,” he said to Adrian, and the line went dead.

I sank to the sofa, chest heaving, mind spinning. Adrian’s fury still lingered, almost tactile. My husband thought it was work. Adrian thought I was his. And I… I was caught somewhere in between, trembling, guilty, and aching in ways I couldn’t admit.

The night stretched around me, heavy with lust, secrets, and danger. And I knew, without a doubt, that I was in hot water.

Adrian wasn’t at work the next day. No dark glint in his eyes, no teasing smirk, no heat brushing past me. Relief and dread tangled in my chest.

I tried to focus on spreadsheets, emails, the endless hum of printers, but every ring, every vibration of my phone made my pulse spike. I kept glancing at the clock, wondering what he was doing, whether he was thinking about last night, about me.

Every time my mind drifted to him, I felt it—heat pooling in my belly, the memory of his voice, his hands, the jealousy in his words. And the thought of the pregnancy… my chest tightened. What would he do if he knew? What would happen when we were in the same room again?

The apartment was quiet after work, but my heart was anything but. I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water scald my skin, steam curling around me like a shield. I scrubbed, not just to wash away the day, but to erase Adrian—the lingering scent of him, the memory of his hands, his voice, the way he’d claimed me in the dark. I felt guilty, remembering Matt getting dressed peacefully just a few feet away. He had no idea the chaos that was brewing in our marriage, no idea that our unborn child might not be his.

Dressing was harder than I imagined. Every garment I pulled on felt like armor against temptation and judgment alike. My fingers lingered over my necklace, my skirt, the heels that made my legs look endless. I cursed myself silently for wondering what Adrian would think when he saw me tonight, if he had even missed me today. Thoughts like that made me want to sink through the floor.

The ride to Matt’s parents’ house was quiet, Matt humming softly in the passenger seat, proud and happy about the dinner, the baby, the celebration. I clutched my purse, counting the minutes until I would face my mother-in-law, Adrian, and the storm that loomed between them.

Upon arrival, Mrs. Sinclair swept me into a warm embrace. “Izzy, darling, it’s so good to see you,” she said, her smile radiating warmth. But I sensed the edge in her voice, the knowing beneath the politeness.

She glanced at Matt, then back at me. “Mind if I borrow you for a moment?”

Matt grinned. “Of course. Go ahead, sweetheart.”

I followed her into the study, heart hammering. Every step felt like walking into a trap.

“Izzy,” she said softly, closing the door, “we need to talk.”

I swallowed. “Yes, Mrs. Sinclair?”

She studied me, eyes sharp. “Don’t lie to me. I know… or at least, I know there’s something starting between you and Adrian.”

I blinked, panic rising. “I… no, of course not!”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “Izzy, please. I wasn’t born yesterday. The other night—you disappeared with him. I saw your lipstick, smudged. Your clothes… disheveled.”

I froze. The evidence of that reckless, stolen heat flashed through my mind. I exhaled slowly, unable to lie anymore. “Something was starting to happen, but I've ended it, I swear,” I admitted, voice trembling.

Her hand reached for mine, firm and steady. “Stop it. Right now. Before it destroys your marriage. Before it tears apart a bond between two brothers. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I whispered, the weight of guilt pressing on my chest.

Dinner started, voices and laughter filling the room, but my mind spun with tension, guilt, and fear. I kept stealing glances at the clock, waiting, dreading the arrival of Adrian.

Finally, the door opened. Adrian stepped in, leaning slightly as if the alcohol gave him balance he didn’t really need. The scent of whiskey trailed him, mixing with the warmth of his cologne.

“Congratulations, brother,” he slurred, turning to Matt. “A baby… well done. I guess that makes me a dad to be too in a way.” He looked right into my eyes.

Matt chuckled, teasing. “About time you celebrated someone else, Adrian. Now it’s your turn. Being an uncle to my child won't be enough. Get yourself a woman.”

The room stilled for a heartbeat as Adrian’s eyes locked on mine. The air thickened, and I felt my pulse spike. His lips curved into a smirk, sharp and dangerous. “I already have one,” he said, his voice low but carrying across the table.

I felt my stomach twist. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to look away, to pretend, to hide. But I couldn’t. I met his gaze, and the storm of jealousy, desire, and danger rolled over me like a tide.

Mrs. Sinclair’s eyes flickered between us, calm but calculating. I realized she’d seen it too—or at least suspected everything—and the thought made my heart pound harder. The night was only beginning, and already, the line between loyalty, lust, and secrets was razor thin.

Matt raised his glass, oblivious to the undercurrent. “To family,” he said cheerfully, and I forced a smile, though inside, I was trapped in the dangerous orbit of a man who shouldn’t be mine, and a secret that could shatter everything.

"And Adrian," Matt grinned obviously. "Do invite your mysterious lady to dinner one of these days, it would be nice to finally meet her."