Chapter 2; Mask Of Freedom

(Claire POV)

The smell of vanilla icing on my fingers makes me nauseous.

I don't cry when I start the car. I don't scream when I leave the house we own.

My hands remain firmly on the steering wheel, but my heart is breaking. Every kilometer that takes me away from Damien takes me a little further from the woman I pretend to be: the discreet and devoted wife of the CEO of Laurent Dynamics.

I drive to the city center, the neon lights of Paris are blurry.

My destination is an apartment located in a cobbled alley. That's the only thing Damien doesn't know.

I bought it five years ago because I knew I would need a place where the air doesn't resemble Damien's lies.

When I lock the door behind me, the silence is deafening. I lean against the wood and slide down to the floor.

Damien's words keep echoing in my head.

"I think we should have an open marriage."

"Claire, be realistic. Don't complicate things unnecessarily. Things are constantly changing. We've been together for years, you can't expect everything to stay the same."

He said it with such coldness and indifference that it breaks my heart into a thousand pieces.

He didn't even try to cover himself, nor did his mistress. He looked at me as if I were a model. After seven years of helping him develop his business, he proposed an open marriage.

What hurts me the most isn't the woman in our bed. It's that Damien thinks I'm weak. He believes I need him so much that I'd do anything to stay with him.

"You idiot," I mutter angrily. "You arrogant idiot."

I pick up my phone and look at my I*******m profile. I need to see the lies we've told the world.

I scroll through our photos, which seem to me to be the most beautiful thing in the world.

There are photos of Damien and me at the London gala and a tech summit. I stop at a photo from our wedding. I look so tiny next to Damien.

My eyes were wide open and full of trust; I believed he was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Now I know that being near him is like being too close to the sun: it burns.

I feel like crying, but to stop it, I keep scrolling.

Then I came across an advertisement for the Eclipse club. They're organizing a masked ball. Masks and complete anonymity guaranteed, just a simple evening of entertainment.

That's exactly what I need right now, rather than crying over Damien.

I don't want to be Claire Laurent tonight, the woman whose husband prefers another woman. If I go to a random bar, someone will recognize me and ask me questions about Damien.

That's the last thing I want; the masked ball will be the perfect place to forget my pain and Damien's betrayal.

I need to be someone else. I get up and go to my dressing room. I take out a dress that Damien doesn't like.

It's purple and backless. Then I put on a mask; one of the advantages of owning everything is precisely having everything.

I put on red lipstick. When I look in the mirror, I don't see the wife of the CEO of Laurent Dynamics, but a stranger going out to have fun.

I leave my apartment, walk to my car and get in. After a few minutes' drive, I park in front of the Eclipse Club.

The party is already in full swing and everyone is wearing a mask. It's nice to remain anonymous and not be recognized. I feel like I can finally breathe.

I order a drink, then I go and sit in a corner, watching people laugh and dance, while I feel so alone.

My thoughts turn to Damien; he always wanted me to be refined and modest, playing the role of the perfect CEO wife for the applause of the public.

The woman I saw in our bed wasn't modest; I didn't know he had a weakness for uninhibited women. He didn't like the p**n I watched, he always said it was "making love, not fucking"... another lie.

For years I was just his partner; he never made me feel like a wife, but like a piece of furniture to look at.

Glass in hand, I take a sip of my scotch then swallow another, the sensation spreading in my throat does not disturb in any way the codes that made Damien a billionaire.

I am the genius behind the success of his business, while he takes all the credit.

What did I receive in return? The worst kind of betrayal from him.

Suddenly, I hear a hoarse voice behind me.

"A woman who drinks scotch like that is either celebrating something or plotting something bad."

I put down my glass and turn my head. A tall, imposing man is standing at the edge of the cabin; he is wearing a mask like me.

He exudes a powerful aura that irresistibly attracts me, giving him the air of a predator with the intensity of his sparkling blue eyes.

I tilt my head, observing him with a cold stare.

The way he looks at me, as if I were the only person in the room, gives me butterflies in my stomach.

"What if it was both?" I asked in an icy voice.

He steps into the light, his broad shoulders perfectly outlined by his dark suit. His gaze pierces me, lingering on the plunging neckline of my dress as if he wanted to devour me.

Damien would immediately disapprove if he saw the dress I'm wearing, provocatively revealing my breasts.

Who cares about that idiot Damien? Certainly not me, I'm here to have fun, I'll deal with him later.

"Then I arrived at that moment," said her husky voice, soft as velvet against my skin. "The orchestra is playing a tango. It would be a shame to ruin such a dress on a bench."

"I'm not here to dance," I purr. I simply don't want to throw myself into his arms right now.

He leans towards me, his fresh scent tickles my nostrils, a mixture of sandalwood and a dark odor.

"I suppose you just want to hide from all this," he said. "But you've forgotten one thing."

I pick up the glass, swirl the scotch in my glass before taking another sip. "What is this?" I ask after setting the glass down.

"It's difficult to disappear when you're the brightest thing in the darkness."

I laugh softly, feeling light, freed from the tension that weighed me down. He holds out his hand to me.

I look at her hand, hesitating for a moment as I think back to the seven years I spent being a good, present, and caring wife.

A dangerous smile spreads across my lips, then I put my hand in hers; her grip is firm and warm.

"Show me the way," I said.

As he leads me onto the dance floor, the outside world disappears.

Since Damien wants an open marriage, I will offer him a front-row seat so he can see what an open marriage looks like.