6

Stacey 

I find myself stupid enough to let a random man get his hands into my pants and make me wet, bringing me close to my climax then eventually pull out. He gives me one look before he adjusts his appearance. 

After a moment, he inquires, “What's your cut in this? Taking your husband down…I wonder what could be the reason?”  

Crossing my arms to my chest, I declare, “It's personal. You don't have to know. Just know that I am helping you find the person who is a fraud in your company.” I watch his eyebrows go narrow and his lips twitch before he tosses another question in my direction. “Your nose was bleeding last night. Is he abusive?” 

I feel like I am being exposed completely—not physically but from the inside. I have no words at the moment, and I stutter before I speak: “What? No!” I gather myself and continue: “That's true that we are getting a divorce—” He cuts me off in the middle of my sentence, nodding once as if he has anticipated the whole scenario already. 

“Oh, so divorce? Perhaps you want half or all of his property, ain't it?” I can't help but laugh at his sentence but his intense gaze makes me quickly shift from amusement to discomfort. In the awkward silence, I sense that he is not admiring me but rather lusting after me, which leaves me speechless.

Clearing my throat, I assertively state, "I'm Stacey Cruz, in case you're unfamiliar. Feel free to G****e me if you so desire." With a tone filled with pride, I promptly decide to exit the fucking office without further delay.

As my hand tightens around the doorknob, his voice stops me, the curiosity evident in his tone. "Do you have evidence?" he inquires. A grin spreads across my face, and I return to his desk, confidently tossing the pieces of evidence onto it. Our eyes lock in a silent exchange of understanding.

Leaning slightly over his desk, my cleavage is unintentionally on display, but I pay no attention to it. I rather watch his gaze falling onto my chest, admiring my perfect cleavage, perhaps. "Thank me later, Juan... or whatever your name is," I grin before turning to leave. With a wink in his direction, I exit his office. As I walk away, the confident and composed expression on my face quickly shifts to a frown.

Disguised with a resting bitch face, I stride out of the building and slide into the car. "Did Tyler see us?" I inquire of the driver, who shakes his head, indicating that my husband appeared unaware of my visit to his office.

An hour later, I find myself seated by the pool, sipping tea as my best friend Rose swims over to the corner. "That bastard broke your cute little upturned nose, Stace, and you didn't do anything about it?" she remarks, her words laced with concern and disbelief. I listen attentively as she speaks.

"The Stacey I know would have made sure his face was ruined if anyone dared lay a hand on her," Rose continues, her words cutting through my thoughts. I take a deep breath, realizing she has a point. My name is Stacey Cruz, the sole inheritor of the Cruz wealth. My grandfather, as well as my parents, were immensely proud of me.

I recall a life of privilege and luxury, raised as the spoiled one with every material possession a girl could desire. However, love was a missing piece until Tyler entered my life. Our relationship faced opposition from my grandfather, who initially disapproved of our marriage. However, he eventually relented in my happiness, allowing us to be together.

It's hard to deny that Tyler has caused me immense emotional and physical harm. I have always taken great care of my appearance, health, and well-being. I was even preparing to become a mother when the devastating truth was revealed to me – Tyler is unable to father a child.

"I gathered evidence against him and filed for divorce," I quietly disclosed to Rose. She questions, "And that's enough?" I am left speechless, grappling for an answer. "Where are you staying?" she asks, having a sudden response from me, "My lawyer has arranged a penthouse for me at Martinez Heights."

Rose falls silent for a moment before decisively stating, "Stacey, you might go insane if you stay at home all the time. Let's go out tonight... gather all the girls." With a heavy sigh, I decline, "I can't handle the crowd right now." Rose emerges from the pool, enveloping her alluring figure in a warm robe.

"That's exactly what you're going to do, Stace. We're going out for dinner, and that's final," Rose asserts with determination. I observe as she reaches for her phone and softly murmurs, "Let me drop a text in the group chat."

I sit at the vanity, staring at my reflection, lost in thoughts about my life. "You were not like this, Lua," I mutter, my voice hoarse, barely above a whisper as I gaze at my reflection. My grandfather calls me Lua, comparing my presence to that of the moon. His words echo in my mind, and a sudden realization strikes me deep in my heart.

Nancy interrupts me, addressing me politely, "Ms. Cruz... your friends are here." I nod, swiftly applying lipstick to my pink lips before I spatter my favorite perfume all over myself.

Leaving my penthouse, I stride into the empty hallway, my head down as I search for my car keys. Lost in my own thoughts, I am abruptly banged into a strong figure that towers above me. I raise my gaze to meet his, my lips forming a thin line as I speak, "You again!"

He casually tucks his hand into his pocket, a grin plastered on his face, and I can't help but feel irritated by his constant presence. "I suppose we'll be running into each other more often now that we share the same floor," he remarks. I furrow my brow and retort, "This is the executive floor reserved for residents and VIPs only."

His lips twitch slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest, and I can't help but notice the veins protruding on his forearms. "And this building is named Martinez Heights for a reason," he asserts. The realization dawns on me, and he adds, "It's a pleasure to have you as a tenant, Stacey Cruz."