2: Deep Betrayal.

Delilah’s POV

The Next Day – Weston Enterprises

The elevator doors glided open with a soft chime, and I stepped into the sleek, cold hallway of Caleb’s company—Weston Enterprises. Polished marble floors reflected the overhead lights like glass, and the air smelled of expensive cologne, toner ink, and ambition.

It’d been a while since I visited. Maybe two months? He always said it was too hectic for me. Too stressful. That I should “rest.”

Well, resting felt a lot like rotting lately sinceI saw what made me lose sleep throughout the night. There should be an explanation. There is always an explanation.

So I’d packed up his favorite lunch, grilled chicken with pesto pasta and chocolate mousse from that café he liked, and made my way here, determined to surprise him.

To talk. To fix things before they split further.

Before something inside me broke for good.

The receptionist gave me a strained smile when she saw me, her gaze flicking to my belly like I was some ticking time bomb. “Mrs. Weston,” she said, standing quickly. “Is everything—?”

“I’m here to see my husband,” I said with a tight smile. “Is he in?”

She hesitated. “He’s… occupied. But I can let him know—”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll wait.”

I settled into one of the chairs near the glass wall and cradled the warm lunch bag on my lap like it might shield me from everything wrong in this world. The receptionist kept peeking at me. I smiled again, pretending I wasn’t unraveling inside.

I sat there for fifteen minutes.

Twenty.

Forty minutes passed and I forgot how to breathe, my entire body was tense and my head throbbed slightly. I should be resting. This isn't good for me. Maybe I should just go home.

And then the elevator opened again.

And he walked out.

Thorne Weston.

He looked like sin peeled off the devil’s back.

Shit! Why is he here of all days?

Black jeans, boots, and a white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the black ink crawling up his collarbone and neck—tattoos I’d only caught glimpses of before. His hair was damp, tousled like he didn’t give a damn, and his eyes—those dark, soulless eyes—landed on me like he’d been expecting me.

The breath caught in my throat.

God help me, he was beautiful.

And dangerous.

He strolled toward me slowly, his stride all confidence and chaos, and I couldn’t stop staring. My heart pounded too loudly in my ears.

He stopped just in front of me, voice low and teasing, “You shouldn’t be here, vwge. You’re supposed to be resting.”

Vwge. The old nickname. His slang for “virgin” back when he hated me. It used to sting. Now it sent heat curling in my stomach.

I swallowed. “Don’t call me that.”

He smiled, slow and knowing. “Still wearing your husband's name like a badge.”

“I brought lunch. For Caleb.” I stood, tightening my grip on the bag. “So if you’ll excuse me—”

His hand moved before I could react, brushing a loose curl behind my ear.

I froze. “Don’t,” I warned, anger swirling inside of me.

Because I'm pissed and I just need to see my husband before I lose my mind. Cheryse and him had sex? How the fuck is that possible? Before I could confront him this morning, he had already left for work. I just need to talk to him before I lose my shit.

He tilted his head. “Don’t what?”

“Touch me.” My voice wavered. “If you touch me again, I’ll scream.”

His hand dropped, but he didn’t back away. That goddamn smile tugged at his lips. “You know that’s not possible.”

My pulse spiked. “You’re disgusting.”

He laughed under his breath. “Maybe. But I’m also right here, and he’s… not.”

I tried to walk around him, but he blocked me, still calm.

“Caleb doesn’t know what he’s losing,” he murmured. “If he did, he’d be holding you right now instead of… whatever he’s doing.”

I clenched my jaw. “You don’t know my husband.”

“I know he left you alone. I know he shouts now. I know he hides shit. You’re cracking, Delilah. And he’s too blind to see it.”

I stepped closer, my voice icy now. “Caleb is better than you’ll ever be. He didn’t get drunk and kill his own bestfriend..”

His expression went dead still and I immediately regretted it. I didn’t mean to. Not like that.

But the words were already out. Floating between us like smoke. Fúck. Caleb told me about this when we first got married warning me that he's a disaster…mentally unstable.

His jaw ticked. His throat worked around whatever emotion he didn’t dare show.

“I—” I started, guilt twisting in my gut.

But pride wrapped around my throat and choked the apology. “You should leave, " I managed.

He took a step back. The air between us was thick with history and something more dangerous. “Right,” he said, flatly. “Thanks for the reminder, Mrs. Weston.”

He turned and walked away, heading down the hall like I hadn’t just stabbed something buried deep inside him.

My fingers trembled as I clutched the lunch bag tighter.

I didn’t come here for Thorne.

I came for my husband.

I pushed past the receptionist, who gave me a nervous look, and headed straight to Caleb’s office. I knew the way. The large double doors at the end of the corridor, always slightly ajar.

This time, they were cracked open just enough. And as I got closer I froze at the unmistakable sound of moaning from the room.

“Fuck…faster! Faster!” The familiar voice said, moaning loudly. "Cal…fuck!"

It's Cheryse’s voice.

I couldn't breathe as I walked closer, shoulders limp like a living dead. I peeked through the door to see Caleb thrusting from behind. Her shirt was unbuttoned, hair tousled, lipstick smudged. She was gripping the desk tightly as he pounded her mercilessly.

My world went crashing down as I covered my mouth to prevent the scream clawing up my throat.

What…. how…. How could he??

The sound of their skin slapping together still echoed in my ears like a gunshot.

Everything was moving too fast and too slow, all at once.

I took one step backwards as my legs moved on their own. It was like they didn’t belong to me. Like my body had short-circuited from betrayal.

Each step was disoriented, dizzying. The walls tilted as my vision blurred. My fingers trembled violently.

How could he do this to me? I've…I've been a fool! What was his fucking reason??

The scent of pasta, chocolate mousse, her perfume, and him—they tangled in the air around me, choking me…

I heard someone shout my name. “Delilah!"

But it was too late to stop myself as my heel snagged the edge of the marble stai and I slipped, falling backwards.

My back slammed the stairs first. Then my shoulder. Then the sharp crack of my head against the cold marble.

Pain flared so bright I thought the lights had exploded.

And then I felt it, the wet warmth between my thighs.