Caleb's POV

Chapter 2

Caleb’s POV

I woke up to Nora’s soft, hesitant voice drifting in from the kitchen. That voice always grated on my nerves.

“Caleb? Breakfast is ready.”

I rolled over and squinted at the clock. 7:52 a.m.

“Dammit, Nora!” I roared, throwing the covers off. I stormed into the hallway in my boxers and found her standing by the dining table, holding a pot of coffee. Her eyes went wide like a scared deer.

“Why didn’t you wake me at six?” I stepped right into her space, towering over her. “I have a logistics empire to run, and you let me sleep in like some retired old man! Do you have any idea how much I have to do before the gala tomorrow?”

“I… I thought you needed the rest,” she stammered, setting the coffee down with shaking hands. “You said you had a long day yesterday.”

“I don’t pay the mortgage with ‘rest,’ Nora. I pay for it with hard work — something you wouldn’t know anything about.”

I dropped into a chair and stared at the eggs. They were perfect, but I wasn’t in the mood to be nice. “The only thing you’re good at is wasting time. You probably spent the whole morning staring at the wall or flipping through those stupid magazines.”

I shoveled the food into my mouth while she stood there silently, waiting like always. That was Nora — like a piece of furniture. You expected her to be there, and you didn’t thank a chair.

After breakfast I showered, smoothed back my sandy hair in the mirror, and studied my reflection. Forty-three and still in my prime. I deserved a life that sparkled. I deserved a woman who made me look powerful, not a tired housewife who looked like she’d given up.

I dressed in my best suit and stopped by the girls’ rooms. Tara was already up, looking sharp as always. She was just like me — ambitious, sharp, and obsessed with status. I slipped her some extra cash for lunch and told her it came straight from me. Then I poked my head into Mia’s room. She was quieter, more like her mother, but she was still a Stone. I kissed her forehead and promised I’d see her later.

On my way out, Nora was wiping the kitchen counter for the hundredth time.

“Nora!” I shouted. She jumped. “Listen up. I need you to handle three things today for the anniversary gala tomorrow, and don’t screw them up. First, go to the florist and tell them I want double the white lilies for the stage. If one petal is brown, I’m not paying. Second, pick up my tuxedo from the tailor on 5th Street. Third, go to the Magnolia Grand and make sure the seating chart hasn’t been changed. Investors stay at the center table.”

“Caleb, that’s across town, and I have to pick up Mia from dance class—”

“Figure it out,” I snapped, grabbing my keys. “Take a bus. Walk. I don’t care. Just have it all done by the time I get home. Try to be useful for once.”

I didn’t wait for her answer. I slid into my Mercedes, revved the engine, and felt the power rumble through me. I wasn’t going to the office. Not yet.

Twenty minutes later I pulled into the private parking lot of Luxe Noir Hotel. Dark, expensive, and completely discreet.

I took the elevator to the fifth floor and knocked on Room 502.

The door opened. Sarah Lane stood there in a silk robe that cost more than Nora’s entire wardrobe. Sleek, confident, and looking at me like I was a king.

“You’re late,” she teased, pulling me inside by my tie.

“Nora let me oversleep,” I groaned, tossing my jacket on the bed.

Sarah laughed, low and smooth. “Poor Caleb. Still stuck with that boring little housewife. How do you stand it?”

“I won’t have to for much longer.” I sat on the edge of the bed while she poured me a drink. “I’ve been checking the joint account. Those monthly payments from her late aunt’s company are still coming in. Not a fortune, but enough to fund our move to the coast. The payments only last two more years, so I’m draining every cent before I file the papers.”

“Will she notice?” Sarah asked, leaning against me, her perfume wrapping around me.

“Nora?” I scoffed. “She doesn’t even know how to log into the bank app. She thinks the bank is a building where people wear hats. She’s so clueless she just signs whatever I put in front of her. I’ll move the money to my offshore account by the end of the month. Then I’ll give her the house — the mortgage is almost paid off anyway — and leave her to her small-town life.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Nora. I ignored it.

It buzzed again. And again. On the fourth call I growled and answered.

“What is so important that you’re calling me four times in a row?” I yelled.

“Caleb, I’m at the tailor,” Nora’s voice came through, small and shaky. “He says the tuxedo isn’t ready because you didn’t approve the final fitting. Should I wait or—”

“Are you serious?” I shouted, pacing the room. Sarah watched me with a smirk. “I told you to pick it up! If it’s not ready, you stay there until it is! How can you be so incompetent? I’m in the middle of important business, and you’re bothering me about a zipper? Use your brain for once, Nora! You are so incredibly dumb it hurts.”

I hung up without waiting for her reply.

“She’s a headache,” I muttered, tossing the phone aside.

“Forget about her,” Sarah whispered, sliding her hands up my chest. “Think about us. Think about the gala tomorrow. Once everyone sees me on your arm, they’ll forget Nora Hale ever existed.”

“They already have,” I said.

I looked at Sarah. She was everything Nora wasn’t — a real partner who understood power. I was tired of the suburbs, tired of plain meals, and tired of a wife who had no clue about the real world.

I started unbuttoning my shirt, the heat in the room rising fast. The plan was working. The money was moving. The woman I actually wanted was right here. And the placeholder at home was busy running my errands like the good little servant she was.

I pulled Sarah toward me as she reached for the belt of her robe, her eyes dark with hunger. I kicked off my shoes, a surge of triumph rushing through me.

Tomorrow night at the gala, everything would change.