Chapter 05

That instant, my defenses crumbled. Simultaneously, Shane pressed the remote, and the repulsive scene on the other side of the glass vanished.

Tears of agonizing regret and pure heartbreak cascaded down my cheeks. With the last remnants of strength fueled by pure, unadulterated ego, I snatched my phone back from Shane’s grasp.

He flinched, staring at me with deep furrows in his brow and eyes full of frantic concern.

"Zoya, are you okay? You’re ghost-white. We can get out of here right now if you can’t handle this," he whispered, reaching for my shoulders, which were heaving with uneven, jagged breaths.

I wiped the tears away in one sharp motion and locked eyes with him. "I am not a weak woman, Shane."

My voice sounded cold, rasping, and utterly void of warmth. "Even though I’m shattered, I refuse to become a loser."

I reactivated my phone’s camera and thrust it into his chest. "Press the remote. Now."

Shane hesitated, his hand hovering in the air. "Zoya, watching this won't—"

"Press it, Shane! I know exactly what I need to see!" I cut him off, my voice a dangerous, hushed command.

I had to witness every second. I needed to burn this agony into my mind so deeply that there would be no turning back.

Shane pressed the button, re-positioning the camera. My hands were still shaking as I rummaged through my bag.

I found my personal phone and pulled up Zeena’s contact. In our family’s hierarchy, she was molded to be submissive to me.

She had never dared to defy me, let alone ignore a call. I wanted to see how long her mask of innocence would hold.

I hit Call.

At the same time, my gaze drifted back to the two-way mirror.

My body went even limper, my bones feeling as though they’d been pulled from my frame as I watched the nightmare resume.

Zeena was riding him, her rhythm accelerating. Her head was thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, savoring every touch.

While Alex, the man who constantly nagged me to wear "decent" dresses, was busy suckling on my stepsister’s breasts with a ravenous, carnal hunger.

In room 404, a phone lying on the nightstand lit up. The act paused for a fleeting second.

Alex gripped Zeena’s hips to steady her, and she gasped in frustration before reaching for the device.

The moment she saw the caller ID, Zeena’s face tightened. But she took a steadying breath and swiped Accept.

Shane, seeing me nearly collapse, lunged forward. He braced my sagging back against his broad chest, holding me upright.

With silent tears still streaming down my face, I pressed the phone to my ear.

"Hello? Zoya, what’s up?" Zeena asked from the other end. Her voice sounded breathless and ... moaning.

My hand trembled violently. Through the glass, I watched Zeena resume her frantic pace.

She was intentionally teasing my husband, who was now wearing a sinister, satisfied smirk.

"What are you doing, Zeena? Why do you sound so ... out of breath?" I asked, forcing the air into my lungs to keep my voice from cracking.

On the other end, I heard the rustle of sheets and the rhythmic squeak of the bed frame. Even though they were trying to stifle the noise, my ears, honed by years of corporate high-stakes, caught the soft, incriminating gasps slipping past their lips.

"Ah ... I’m ... just working out, Zoya. Why?" she replied, clearly struggling to catch her breath.

I smiled bitterly in the dark of room 406. Yes, she was working out, alright. A filthy, disgusting workout on the bed with my husband.

"Nothing. I just wanted to ask, have you seen Alex tonight?" I pressed, testing the limits of her deception.

"Oh ... Mr. Alex?" Zeena paused, letting out a sharp gasp as Alex deliberately squeezed her waist.

"I haven't seen him. Even though we’re in the same office, he’s the big boss, you know? And anyway, you know how I am. I’m always intimidated by him.

We hardly ever cross paths in the marketing division," she lied, her voice dripping with artificial innocence. She sounded like the most honest little sister on earth.

"Right. Enjoy your workout," I hissed.

I hung up immediately. I couldn't stomach another second of it, the intimacy between the man I loved and the girl I’d raised with such care.

My phone slipped from my hand, thudding onto the thick carpet. I spun around, burying my face in Shane’s chest and sobbing until I couldn't breathe.

I felt pulverized. My image as a successful, independent woman, our "harmonious" marriage that the public worshiped, it was all teetering on the edge of a cliff.

And the person I trusted most, the man who’d slipped a ring on my finger, was the one kicking me into the abyss.

Shane held me tight, stroking my back with a soft, practiced gentleness. He whispered soothing words that my logic refused to accept.

He was trying to comfort me, to quell the hurricane raging in my heart.

But they all underestimated me. Zoya does not simply surrender to a tragic fate.

As an architect and a businesswoman, I was built to construct empires from the rubble of failure. I always had a wild, calculated move in the most impossible situations.

If they wanted to play dirty behind my back, I would dismantle them in a way that was far more elegant, and far more lethal.

I abruptly pulled away from Shane. Looked up, and locked eyes with him. My tears stopped as if a faucet had been shut off. Replaced by a gaze so glacial it could freeze blood and I smiled.

Shane looked unsettled by my sudden transformation.

"Zoya? Are you okay? You’re scaring me," he said, his fingers touching my cold forehead.

"Let’s get you to a doctor. I’m worried you’re in shock."

I shook my head slowly, inhaling a deep breath to fill the hollow cavity of my chest. I brushed his hand away.

"I’m not sick, Shane. I’ve just been cured of my blindness," I said, my voice flat and icy. There was no tremor of fragility left.

I stared at him without blinking. "I want to ask you something ... are you truly willing to help me exact my revenge?"

Shane hesitated, clearly confused by the trajectory of my sanity.

"Of course, Zoya. But ... how exactly do you want to pay your husband back?”

“If you want a formal divorce, I can find you the most ruthless lawyers in the city to strip him of every single asset in his company—"

"Sleep with me," I commanded.