Chapter 04

My fingers flew across the screen, typing out a response fueled by the last shred of denial I had left.

Me: I’m not coming, Shane!

Me: Stop spinning these ridiculous scenarios. Alex and I are booked as the main guests on a live talk show tomorrow night. He’ll be by my side all evening.

It didn’t take long for a reply to ping back. Shane sounded like he’d been expecting exactly that.

Shane: He’s not going to show, Zoya. Bet on it. Tomorrow, he’s going to choose her instead.

I scoffed, tossing the phone onto the bed and refusing to give him another second of my energy.

My heart had wobbled for a second. But I refused to lose to my brother-in-law’s manipulative gaslighting.

That night, as I settled into bed next to Alex, who had just finished changing into his sleepwear, I decided to bait him.

I rested my head on his broad chest, inhaling that soothing scent of soap.

"Alex, what did you think of Zeena tonight?" I asked, keeping my voice as casual as possible.

I stared intently at his face, searching for a micro-expression, a crack in the armor.

Alex looked down, his eyes filled with warmth, and let out a soft chuckle. He nipped at the tip of my nose affectionately.

"Babe, why are you asking me that?" he murmured, his hand stroking my hair.

"You know me. I don’t pay attention to other women. In my life, in my eyes, there’s only one focus. And that’s you, Zoya."

Hearing those sweet nothings whispered in that velvety tone shattered my defenses. My heart melted.

All the suspicion Shane had planted evaporated without a trace. I hugged him tight, feeling like a fool for ever doubting him.

"Don't be late tomorrow, Alex. It’s a live talk show. People are waiting to see us," I reminded him before closing my eyes.

"I promise, honey. I'll be there right on time," he whispered soothingly.

But the next day, reality hit me with the force of a wrecking ball.

I stood in the holding room of the TV station, my stomach churning with pure anxiety. It was 7:45 p.m.

The show was going live in fifteen minutes, and Alex was still a no-show.

If he didn't turn up, it wouldn't just be our reputation as a "power couple" that went down in flames, the producers would be furious.

I’d specifically taken this slot to boost the public image of Alex’s company, which had been struggling lately. I needed to help him land those new investors.

I hammered his number over and over. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Nothing but voicemail.

"Mrs. Zoya, we need to head to the studio in five minutes. Where’s Mr. Alex?" a crew member asked, her face tight with worry.

 My assistant, Mia, was hyperventilating beside me, clutching the rundown sheet with trembling hands. I’m sure my own face was a ghostly shade of white.

But in the heat of the panic, my "CEO brain" kicked in. I had to salvage this. I walked onto that stage with a steady stride and a smile that looked flawless to the cameras.

When the host grilled me about Alex's absence, I delivered my lines with cold, professional precision.

"My husband had an urgent, last-minute contract signing with some foreign investors tonight. As a wife, I have to be his biggest supporter.

Besides, isn't the strength of a relationship tested by how we support each other during the grind?" I said diplomatically, flashing a charming smile.

The audience and the host peppered me with questions about our "harmonious" marriage. I answered every single one with sharp, articulate grace.

The truth was, what I said was the truth, that was exactly what I had been doing for him all this time. I was certain my marriage was still sound. It was just people like Shane trying to poison it.

Even after a successful show, the tension didn't leave me.

After the wrap, I apologized personally to the producers, forced to double down on the lies to protect Alex's name.

"We understand, Mrs. Zoya. But please, don't let this happen again. This is live TV, the risk is too high," the producer warned, his face stern as he walked away.

In the back of the car, I stared at the rain streaking against the window, the world feeling muted. Shane’s words from the night before crawled back into my head like a broken record, the doubt tightening its grip on my chest.

"Mia, change the route! Take me to the Savoy Hotel, now," I suddenly commanded, shattering the silence.

When we pulled up to the grand lobby, Shane was already waiting by a massive pillar. A proud, ugly smirk etched itself onto his face when he saw me approach.

"I knew it. You’d come eventually, Zoya," he greeted, his tone dripping with victory.

"Cut the crap, Shane. Where’s Alex?" I asked, my voice cold, fighting back the tremor in my soul.

"Follow me," he said, turning toward the private elevators.

As we walked, he glanced at his watch. "He’s not in the room yet, but he’s already in the hotel."

I stopped dead in front of the elevator doors. My gaze turned suspicious.

"You’re setting me up, aren't you? You’re using me to pull some stunt on my husband?"

Shane spun around, meeting my eyes with a gravity that didn't hold a single hint of a lie. He held up a hand.

"I swear on my life, Zoya. I’m not playing you. If this turns out to be a lie, you can block my number and cut me out of your life forever. I’ll never bother you again."

The weight of his vow forced me to step into the elevator. We rose to the fourth floor.

Shane led me down the silent, carpeted hallway until we stopped in front of a door.

Room 406. I frowned, I remembered him saying 404.

"Why this room? I thought you said they were next door?" I whispered as he swiped a keycard.

Shane didn't answer. He locked the door behind us and grabbed a small, black remote off the nightstand.

With a single press, a massive section of the wall, which had looked like a standard wall, slowly turned into a large, dark-tinted sheet of glass.

I gasped, covering my mouth. It looked straight into the interior of room 404.

"This is a suite for the elite. They always pick their women from here .…" Shane explained, his voice a low rasp.

"Don't worry, it's a one-way mirror. To them, it’s just a decorative wall mirror. They can't see us."

My heart began to hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird. The tension in the air was so thick it felt like I was drowning.

"Zoya, get your phone. Be ready to record. You need ironclad proof if you want to file for divorce," Shane whispered, pressing my own phone into my hand.

The word divorce sent a bolt of white-hot rage through me. In my life, that word didn't exist. My marriage was a masterpiece, a beacon of harmony.

Click!

Before I could argue, the door to 404 opened. My body turned to stone.

My eyes widened as a figure in a suit I knew better than my own reflection stepped inside.

It was Alex. My husband was really here.

But the real horror was just beginning. It shattered my world into jagged, bloody shards.

Alex wasn't alone. Walking right behind him, Zeena stepped into the room and locked the door.

My blood felt like it was freezing and boiling at the same time. My joints went limp.

Without a second of hesitation, Alex grabbed Zeena by the waist and slammed her against the wall.

He kissed my stepsister with a savagery I hadn't seen in months, not toward me, anyway.

It wasn't just a kiss. It was a hungry, practiced assault. His hands were everywhere, roaming over the curves of the girl I’d always pegged as the "innocent little sister."

I remembered how she’d always acted so sweet, so respectful, always keeping her distance whenever Alex was near.

In front of the family, she played the saint.

Who would have guessed that behind that mask of purity, she was currently moaning in surrender, pressing her body into the man who was supposed to be her brother-in-law?

Tears welled up, blurring my vision as I watched them scramble toward the bed, stripping each other with frantic, animalistic speed. Clothes hit the floor in a chaotic heap.

My consciousness began to slip, my legs losing the war against gravity.

I watched as Alex knelt on the bed, right in front of Zeena, who had her legs wide open. He began to feast on her with a level of carnal hunger that made me want to vomit.

I would have collapsed if Shane’s strong arms hadn't caught me from behind. My ragged, shallow breathing was the only sound in the room, muffled by the sobs I was choking back.

Shane gripped my trembling hands, forcing me to aim the phone camera through the glass.

"Zoya, stay strong. You need this for court. Record it all," he hissed into my ear.

But my senses were dead. My hands shook so violently the phone nearly slipped from my grip.

"Zoya, can you keep holding it?" Shane asked, staring at my face, which was now a roadmap of tears and shattered pride.

My tongue felt heavy, paralyzed. Not a single word could force its way out.

My gaze was locked on the nightmare behind the glass as Zeena climbed on top of Alex. Positioning herself to complete the most intimate, vile act imaginable.