Chapter 1

THE DISCOVERY

~CLAIRE’S POV~

I should have known something was wrong when I came home to silence.

Richard's car was in the driveway next to Monica's little red BMW, but the house felt empty. Too quiet.

Even the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to tick softer than usual as if it knew what I was about to find and did not want to be the one to announce it.

"Richard?" I called out, setting my purse on the marble table by the front door. "Monica?"

My best friend had texted me an hour ago, saying she had stopped by to drop off the wedding photos from her cousin's ceremony last weekend.

Monica was always doing thoughtful things like that, bringing over fresh cookies, helping me pick out new curtains, and making sure I never felt lonely when Richard worked late.

Which was most nights lately.

I kicked off my heels and padded through the corridor in my stockings. The living room was empty, but I could hear something from upstairs.

A soft thudding sound, rhythmic and steady.

Maybe they were moving furniture? Richard had mentioned wanting to rearrange his home office.

I climbed the stairs slowly, one hand trailing along the polished fence. We had picked out this house together three years ago, right after our wedding.

Richard said he wanted to fill every room with the sound of children's laughter someday. I had blushed and kissed him, already imagining tiny feet running down these same stairs.

The sounds were coming from our bedroom.

My stomach twisted with an uneasiness I could not name. Something felt wrong, but I could not put my finger on what.

The air itself seemed heavy, charged with a tension that made my skin tickle.

I paused outside our bedroom door, my hand pausing over the handle. The sounds were clearer now, a rhythmic creaking, soft gasps, and something else.

Something that made my heart start racing for all the wrong reasons.

"Richard?" I called again, my voice smaller this time.

The sounds stopped.

For a moment, there was complete silence. Then I heard Monica's voice, breathless and panicked: "Oh God, someone's here."

My hand shook as I pushed the door open.

And my world shattered into a million pieces.

Monica was on top of my husband. Her dark hair spilled over her bare shoulders as she scrambled to cover herself, her eyes wide with shock.

Richard lay beneath her, his face flushed, his hands still gripping her waist like he could not let go.

Our bed. The Egyptian cotton sheets I had bought for our anniversary. The throw pillows I had embroidered with little hearts during those lonely evenings when Richard worked late.

I could not breathe.

I could not move.

I could not think.

This was not real. This could not be real. Monica was my best friend. She was the one who helped me plan our anniversary dinner just last month.

She was the one who listened to me worry about Richard working too much, and who guaranteed me that all successful men went through phases like this.

She was the one who told me I was lucky to have such a devoted husband.

"Claire!" Monica's voice cracked as she grabbed for the sheet. "Oh my God, Claire!"

Richard's eyes met mine across the room. For just a second, I saw a flash of something…guilt, maybe, or regret. But then his face went hard, like a door slamming shut.

"How long have you been standing there?" His voice was cold, almost annoyed like I was the one interrupting something I should not have.

How long? The question echoed in my head, but I could not make sense of it. How long had I been watching my life fall apart? How long had I been staring at the two people I trusted most in the world betraying me in the most intimate way possible?

"I... I just got home," I whispered. My voice sounded strange like it was coming from underwater. "I called for you."

Monica was crying now, hugging the sheet to her chest. "Claire, please, you have to understand. We did not mean for this to happen. It just... it just happened."

It just happened. Like they had accidentally fallen into bed together. Like clothes removed themselves and bodies just found each other without any choice or decision or betrayal involved.

The room started spinning. The walls seemed to stagger and sway like I was on a boat in rough water. My vision blurred at the edge, and a strange ringing filled my ears.

"Claire?" Monica's voice sounded far away now. "Claire, are you okay?"

I looked at Richard again. My husband. The man who had promised to love and cherish me until death do us part.

The man I had organized my entire life around, the man I had given up my dreams for, the man I had loved so completely that I had forgotten how to be anyone else.

He was sitting up now, not bothering to cover himself, his blue eyes….the eyes I had once thought were the most beautiful thing in the world…looking at me like I was a stranger.

Like I was an inconvenience.

"Richard," I breathed his name like a prayer, like maybe if I said it right, this would all turn out to be a nightmare I could wake up from.

But he did not answer. He just stared at me with those cold, distant eyes, and I realized that the man I had loved, the man I had married, the man I had built my entire world around—that man was already gone.

Maybe he had been gone for months.

The betrayal hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled, and I grabbed the doorframe to steady myself, but it was not enough.

The room wavered dangerously, and black spots danced across my vision.

"Claire!" Monica scrambled off the bed, but her voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a tunnel.

The last thing I heard before everything went dark was Richard's voice, sharp with irritation rather than concern:

"Great. Now look what you've done."

Then the darkness swallowed me whole.