The Perfect Wife

The next morning, I woke up in Alexander's bed and for three seconds, I forgot everything.

The sheets smelled like him. Wood and sea salt. His arm was heavy across my waist. The fireplace was still glowing faintly. For three seconds, I was just a woman who had slept well for the first time in five years.

Then my phone buzzed.

_Daniel Foster: I am on my way. Send me your location. Now._

My stomach dropped.

Alexander opened his eyes. He looked at the message over my shoulder and his jaw tightened.

"He's coming," I whispered.

"Let him come," Alexander said, sitting up. "He won't find you here."

"He will if I don't send him a location," I said. I was already out of bed, my legs still shaky, looking for my clothes. "I told him I was in a hotel alone. If he comes to this villa and finds me here, it's over. He will have his evidence."

Alexander watched me dress. His eyes were dark, possessive, but he didn't try to stop me. He understood the game now. This was not just revenge anymore. This was war, and I was his secret weapon.

"What hotel?" he asked.

"The one near the hospital. The Regency. He knows I stayed there once before," I said, pulling on the simple dress his assistant had brought. It was white, innocent, the kind of dress a confused wife would wear. "Drop me at the back entrance. I'll check in under my name. When he arrives, I'll be there. Alone. Like I said."

"And last night?" Alexander asked, his voice low.

"Last night never happened," I said, forcing a smile. "That's the rule, remember? If we want him to go crazy, we have to make him doubt himself."

He walked to me and cupped my face. He kissed me — not desperate like last night, but slow, deep, like he was marking me in a way no one else could see.

"Be careful," he whispered. "Text me when he's gone. One word. Just one."

"What word?" I asked.

"Safe."

I nodded. "Safe."

Thirty minutes later, I was sitting on a stiff hotel bed at the Regency, hair washed, makeup light, the hospital bracelet still on my wrist for effect. I had sprayed no perfume. I had deleted all my messages. The new phone Alexander gave me was hidden inside the lining of my bag. The old phone — the one Daniel knew — was in my hand.

When the knock came, I jumped.

I opened the door and there he was.

Daniel Foster. My husband. In a perfect grey suit, his hair perfect, his face full of fake worry. Behind him stood Lisa, in a tight pink dress, holding Ethan's hand.

"Mommy!" Ethan screamed and ran to me.

I dropped to my knees and hugged him so tight I thought my heart would break. This was the only real part. My son. My baby. He smelled like soap and biscuits.

"Mommy, are you sick? Auntie Lisa said you forgot us," Ethan said, his little eyes wide.

I looked up at Lisa. She was smiling that sweet, poisonous smile. The smile of a woman who had taken my home, my husband, my son, and now wanted to take my place completely.

"No, baby," I said, stroking his hair. "Mommy just had a little headache. Mommy remembers you now."

Daniel grabbed my arm and pulled me up. His grip was hard. Too hard.

"Sarah, we need to talk," he said, his eyes scanning the hotel room. He looked at the bed — perfectly made. He looked at the bathroom — door open, one towel used. He looked at the closet — only my one dress. He was looking for evidence. A man's jacket. A second toothbrush. A smell.

He found nothing.

Because Alexander had been too smart. He had sent a cleaner to make the room look untouched before I even arrived.

"You told me you were alone," Daniel said, his voice low, suspicious. "Were you really alone, Sarah?"

I looked him straight in the eye and lied without blinking. "Of course, Daniel. Who else would I be with? I have amnesia, remember? I don't even remember my own wedding."

Lisa stepped forward. "Sarah, honey, we were so worried. Daniel didn't sleep all night. He was calling all the hospitals. He thought Alexander King kidnapped you."

At the name Alexander King, Daniel's eyes narrowed. He was watching my face. Waiting for a reaction. A flinch. A blush.

I gave him nothing. I just looked confused. "Alexander King? Who is that?"

That was the moment I knew I had won this round. Daniel's shoulders dropped just a little. He wanted to believe I was innocent. He wanted to believe that sound on the phone last night was just the TV.

But he couldn't let it go. I could see it in his eyes. That doubt would eat him alive.

"Let's go home," he said finally. "The doctor said you need rest. Lisa has been taking care of Ethan. She made his favorite soup."

Home. The word felt like poison.

The drive home was silent. Ethan fell asleep in my lap. Lisa kept turning around to look at me, her eyes full of questions. Daniel kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

Every time his eyes met mine, I smiled sweetly. The perfect, confused wife.

When we got home, everything was exactly as I remembered it — and exactly as I hated it.

Lisa's slippers by the door. Lisa's photo on the wall next to Daniel's. My photo — removed.

"Your room is ready," Lisa said, leading me upstairs. "I changed the sheets for you."

My room. Not our room. She had moved me to the guest room.

Daniel followed us. "Sarah, you should rest. I'll bring you some water."

I nodded obediently. "Thank you, husband."

As soon as Lisa left, Daniel closed the door. He stood there, staring at me.

"Sarah," he said, his voice suddenly soft, dangerous. "Last night on the phone... I heard something. I heard you breathing funny. I heard someone breathing."

My heart was pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. I kept my face blank.

"Daniel, it was the TV," I whispered. "You heard the TV."

He stepped closer. He grabbed my wrist — the wrist with the IV bruise — and lifted it up.

"Then why is your skin so warm?" he asked. "Why do you smell like... like wood smoke? Like a fireplace? Hotels don't have fireplaces, Sarah."

I almost panicked. Alexander's villa had a fireplace. The smell was still on my skin, in my hair.

I forced myself to laugh, small and confused. "Fireplace? Daniel, you're scaring me. Maybe it's the hotel heater? My head still hurts... I don't remember..."

I let my eyes fill with tears. Real tears. Because I was tired. Because I was scared. Because I was playing a game that could destroy me.

Daniel stared at me for a long moment. He wanted to accuse me. He wanted to scream: _You're cheating on me!_ But he had nothing. No message. No photo. No man in the room. Just a smell and a sound.

He let go of my wrist.

"Okay," he said, but his voice was cold. "Rest. But Sarah... if I find out you're lying to me..."

He didn't finish. He just walked out and locked the door from the outside.

I sat on the bed, alone in my own house, locked in like a prisoner.

I waited until I heard his footsteps go downstairs. Then I pulled out the hidden phone from my bag.

My hands were shaking as I typed one word to Alexander:

_Safe._

Three seconds later, his reply came:

_Good girl. Now sleep. Tomorrow, we make him suspect even more._

I smiled in the dark. Daniel thought he had locked me in.

He didn't know he had just locked in the woman who was going to destroy him — one secret at a time.