His Open Marriage, My Forbidden Secret

Lia Whitmore stood in front of the bathroom mirror, applying lipstick with hands that wouldn't stop shaking.

Red. Bold. The kind of red she hadn't worn in five years because Julian said it made her look "trying too hard." Well, tonight she was trying hard. Tonight she was done being the perfect, quiet wife who pretended not to notice the lipstick stains on her husband's collar or the way he came home smelling like someone else's perfume.

She capped the lipstick and stared at her reflection. Green eyes that used to sparkle now looked tired, even with makeup. Dark hair pulled into a neat bun because Julian's mother Margaret always said loose hair looked "unkempt." A black dress that cost more than most people's monthly rent but made her feel like she was wearing a costume.

Who was she even anymore?

Five years ago, Aurelia Chen had dreams. She worked at the Morrison Art Gallery downtown, spent weekends at flea markets finding hidden treasures, laughed loud and often. Then she met Julian Whitmore at a college friend's wedding. He was charming, came from old money, and promised her the world.

She'd been so stupid.

"Lia?" Julian's voice came from the bedroom. "We need to leave in ten minutes. Don't make us late."

She took a breath and walked out of the bathroom. Julian was adjusting his tie in front of the full-length mirror, looking every bit the golden boy he'd been when they met. Blonde hair perfectly styled, blue eyes clear, expensive suit fitted like a glove. Handsome and rotten, like a poisoned apple.

"I'm ready," she said quietly.

He glanced at her, and something flickered in his expression. Surprise? Appreciation? It was gone too fast to tell. "The red lipstick is a bit much, don't you think?"

There it was. The small dig. The tiny cut was designed to make her doubt herself.

Five years ago, she would've rushed back to the bathroom to change it. Tonight, she met his eyes and said, "I like it."

Julian's jaw tightened, but he didn't push. He grabbed his keys from the dresser. "Let's go. Mother hates when people are late to her charity events."

Of course. Margaret's charity gala. Another night of standing beside Julian while he worked the room, charming everyone, playing the devoted husband. Another night of Margaret's pointed comments about how Lia still hadn't given her a grandchild after five years of marriage.

As if it was only Lia's responsibility. As if Julian was home often enough to even try.

They drove in silence. Julian's Tesla hummed along the streets of Silvercrest, past the upscale shops and restaurants where they'd had their first date. Back when Lia thought she knew him. Back when she believed his promises.

"You've been quiet lately," Julian said, not looking at her. His eyes stayed on the road, fingers tapping the steering wheel. "Is something wrong?"

Lia almost laughed. Something wrong? Where did she even start?

With the fact that she'd found another woman's earring in their bed two months ago? With the "business trips" that lasted entire weekends where he barely answered her calls? With the way he looked at her now like she was a piece of furniture he'd grown bored of?

"I'm fine," she said, because that's what she always said.

Julian nodded, satisfied, and turned up the music.

The gala was at the Silvercrest Grand Hotel, all crystal chandeliers and marble floors and people wearing clothes that cost more than cars. Lia had been to a hundred of these events. She knew the routine. Smile. Make small talk. Laugh at jokes that weren't funny. Stand next to Julian like a pretty accessory while he networked.

Margaret spotted them immediately, gliding over in a silver gown that probably cost ten thousand dollars. She was fifty-eight but looked forty-five, thanks to the best plastic surgeons money could buy. Cold blue eyes swept over Lia, finding something to criticize within seconds.

"Aurelia, dear. That lipstick is quite bold." She air-kissed Lia's cheeks, careful not to actually touch. "And still no news to share, I suppose?"

The baby question. Always the baby question.

"Not yet, Margaret," Lia said, keeping her voice pleasant.

"Hmm. Five years is quite a long time. Perhaps you should see another specialist? I know several excellent doctors—"

"Mother," Julian interrupted, his tone carrying a warning. "Not tonight."

Margaret's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Of course. I'm simply concerned. The Whitmore line—"

"I said not tonight."

Margaret's lips pressed into a thin line, but she changed topics, launching into gossip about someone's daughter who'd gotten divorced. Scandalous. Shameful. What would people think?

Lia stopped listening. Her head was starting to pound, the familiar tension headache building behind her eyes. These events always did this to her.the fake smiles, the judgment, the feeling of being on display like an animal at a zoo.

She made it through exactly two hours before she couldn't take it anymore.

"I have a headache," she told Julian quietly, touching his arm. He was in the middle of a conversation with some business associate, laughing about golf scores. "I think I need to go home."

Julian's expression tightened with irritation. "Now? Lia, we just got here—"

"I'll call a car. You stay." She was already pulling out her phone. "I know this is important."

For a second, she thought he might argue. Then he shrugged. "Fine. I'll be home late anyway. After-party at the Johnsons'."

Of course there was an after-party. There was always an after-party, and Julian always went, and Lia was never invited to those. The real parties, where wives weren't wanted.

She ordered a car and left without saying goodbye to Margaret. Let them talk. Let them whisper about the Whitmore wife who left early with a headache. She didn't care anymore.

The house was dark and empty when she got home. Their house. The Ravencourt Estate, a wedding gift from Julian's parents. Beautiful and cold, just like everything else in her life.

Lia kicked off her heels in the foyer and walked to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine. Her hands were shaking again.

How had she gotten here? How had five years passed while she slowly disappeared?

Her phone buzzed. A text from Isla, her best friend and the only person who still knew the real her.

.Isla: How's the fancy party? Surviving?

Lia smiled despite everything and typed back.

Lia:Left early. Home alone. Again.

Isla:.He's an idiot. Come to the café tomorrow. We need to talk.

Lia: About what?

Isla: About the fact that you're miserable and have been for years. I love you, but I'm done watching you fade away. Tomorrow. 10 AM. Don't argue.

Lia stared at the text for a long moment, then set down her phone.

Tomorrow. She'd deal with everything tomorrow.

Tonight, she just wanted to sit in the dark with her wine and pretend that her life wasn't falling apart at the seams.

She didn't know yet that tomorrow would change everything.

She didn't know that in three days, she'd discover her husband in bed with another woman.

And she didn't know that the decision she'd make in her rage would lead her straight into the arms of the most dangerous man in Silvercrest.

But tonight, all she knew was that she was tired of being perfect.

And something had to break.