Chapter 3

I snapped back to reality, forcing myself to look normal. "It's nothing. Just a stomach cramp."

She looked at me, her face a mask of worry and concern. "A cramp? We should go to the hospital."

I shook my head. "No need."

"I'll make you some broth when we get home," she offered sweetly. "You always loved my broth."

I felt a cold wave of detachment. Madeline had tried to learn to cook for me once, but I couldn't stand to see her doing chores, so I stopped her. All she ever learned to make was broth. And I hadn’t had it in over a year.

"There's a gala tomorrow night," she said. "A little fun might do you good. Will Mr. Windemere do me the honor?"

A dark thought crossed my mind. I smiled. "Sure. Can we have it at the Westin? I like their food."

A flicker of panic crossed Madeline's eyes, but she hid it quickly. "Of course. I'll have someone book it right away."

I knew what she was thinking. With both of us at the same hotel, the risk of being exposed was too high. But she couldn't refuse a small request from her "sick" husband, could she?

Back home, Madeline was the perfect, doting wife. She made me the broth, insisted I rest in bed, and checked on me every hour.

But on her backup phone, I saw the message she sent to Ryan:

"Change of plans. Meet me in the private wine cellar downstairs tomorrow. 8:30 PM. It's more secluded. More thrilling. Imagine it… making love among all those expensive bottles…"

Ryan: "Sounds incredible. I'll wear those tight leather pants you like."

The shower turned off in the bathroom. I quickly put the phone away.

Madeline walked out wrapped only in a towel, water droplets tracing a path down her collarbone. Five years ago, the sight would have made my heart race. Now, it just filled me with disgust.

"Feeling any better?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to feel my forehead.

I nodded, then pretended to remember something. "Right, I almost forgot." I took the blue box from the nightstand. "This is your anniversary gift. I put a lot of thought into it."

She started to open it, but I stopped her.

"I want you to wait a week to open it," I said, stroking her cheek. "Think of it as a surprise. Okay?"

She looked at me, confused. "Why a week?"

I gave her a mysterious smile. "Because by then, you'll understand what it really means."

Madeline shrugged, placing the box in her nightstand drawer. "Alright. If that's what you want."

The next morning, Madeline was up early, putting on makeup in front of her vanity.

She saw me wake up and gave me a seductive smile. "It's been a while since we had a date night. How do I look?"

I smiled and nodded. But I knew the date she was getting ready for wasn't with me.

The doorbell rang. One of Madeline's men, Marco, stood outside, holding a plain brown paper bag.

"Boss, the thing you asked for," he said, handing her the bag and avoiding my eyes. But I'd already seen it—a small velvet box. Something for their tryst.

After Marco left, Madeline went back to her makeup.

I stirred my coffee, my voice casual. "Madeline, can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"How important do you think loyalty is in a marriage?" I asked, looking up at her.

Her hand paused for a second. "It's everything, of course. It's the foundation."

"Is it?" I stared straight at her. "So you'd never betray me?"

Madeline immediately reached for the silver cross around her neck. It was a gift from her father, sacred to the Windemere family.

"I swear on my father's name," she said, looking me dead in the eye, her voice solemn and sincere. "I will only ever be loyal to you, William. You are my husband, my king, the only man in my life."

Her performance was flawless. If I didn't know the truth, I might have been moved to tears.

"So," I said, raising my coffee cup, my eyes turning cold as ice, "what happens if you do betray me?"

Madeline answered without a second thought, a small, confident smile on her face. "Then let me lose everything. Let me be thrown out like trash."

I took a slow sip of my coffee, tasting the bitterness.

"Okay, my love. I'll remember that."