The Hockey Billionaire's Regretted Wife

POV: Audrey

I stare at the gold ring on my finger and adjust the strap of my dress, watching the clock hands creep past eight o'clock, while the candles on the table burn down and the chair opposite mine remains completely empty, because two years ago I never thought I would stand in this apartment waiting for Roman Hayes, let alone care whether he showed up for dinner, and back then he was just the owner of the Boston Vipers who forced my hand with a business contract by buying out my father's agency and demanding my hand in exchange, so I hated him for it and expected our marriage to last twelve months before we parted ways, but one year quietly stretched into two, and the walls I built around myself started crumbling because Roman changed the rules without telling me, starting to come home early, waiting for me outside my lab, remembering how I take my coffee without me saying a word, staying beside the bed when I caught the flu last winter, and glaring at anyone who insulted me at a charity gala, so somewhere between the endless arguments and the quiet mornings, the hatred faded into something warm, and tonight I planned to tell him the truth, which is why I checked the clock again as the numbers flipped to nine, my chest tightening as I reached for my phone to dial his line.

"Come on, Roman, pick up," I mutter to the empty room, listening to the ringing tone until it cuts straight to voicemail, and then I drop the phone onto the cushion and pace across the floor, my heels clicking against the marble while I wonder if a crisis at the Vipers headquarters kept him chained to his office, until ten o'clock passes, and then eleven, the silence growing heavy until the sharp click of the front door latch breaks the quiet, and I turn around quickly, a relieved smile forming on my lips as I step into the hallway, but the words die in my throat when Roman walks through the door.

He is not alone, and Vivian Cross steps in right behind him, her coat draped over her arm and a faint, knowing smirk playing on her lips, making my stomach twist in an instant.

"Audrey, you are still awake," Roman says, his voice flat as he loosens his tie with one hand, looking tired and distracted.

"It is our second anniversary, Roman, so of course I am awake," I reply, my eyes darting to Vivian before locking onto his guarded expression, wondering why she is here on our night.

"Something urgent came up at the office, and Vivian was already there helping with the files, so I brought her here to finish reviewing everything," Roman explains, stepping past me without offering an apology or a glance at the table.

"You brought her here, to our home, on our anniversary night, instead of calling me to let me know you were not coming?" I ask, my voice rising as the hurt turns into sudden anger.

Vivian steps closer to the kitchen counter, tossing her bag down with a casual confidence that makes my skin crawl, and she looks at me like she owns the place.

"Don't be dramatic, Audrey, because business doesn't stop just because you wanted a romantic evening," Vivian says, her tone dripping with false sweetness.

"This is between my husband and me, Vivian, so stay out of it," I snap back, turning my attention entirely to Roman, waiting for him to tell her to leave.

"Audrey, stop right now, because Vivian is only here because her team discovered a massive security breach tonight," Roman says, holding up a hand to silence me as his phone lights up with another notification, his jaw tight.

"What security breach?" I ask, my stomach dropping as I look between the two of them, stepping closer to the edge of the rug.

"Confidential Boston Vipers strategy documents and sensitive player medical data were leaked to the Chicago syndicate an hour ago," Roman says, his dark eyes finally fixing on mine with an intensity that makes me step back, feeling the breath leave my lungs.

"That has nothing to do with me, Roman, and you know it," I say, shaking my head as my heart hammers against my ribs, refusing to believe he is looking at me like that.

"Does it, Audrey, because the internal audit trail shows the files were accessed and exported using your private administrative credentials from this exact penthouse?" Roman asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that echoes in the quiet room.

The living room goes dead silent, and before I can even process the impossible accusation, Vivian turns away with a subtle smile that confirms everything, and I look straight into Roman's eyes while the seconds tick past, knowing this wasn't a mistake because someone used my exact login to destroy me, and Vivian is watching the whole thing unfold like she wrote the script herself, and I see the trap closing around me.

"You really think I would do that, Roman?" I ask, my voice shaking as I take a step toward him, needing to see if there is still a shred of the man I fell in love with hiding behind those cold eyes, but he doesn't move, and he doesn't deny it, which hurts worse than anything else he could possibly say.

"The system logs do not lie, Audrey, and your computer is sitting right over there in the study," Roman replies, his tone completely devoid of emotion as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Anyone could have accessed my laptop while I was at the performance lab today, and you know the password is saved on the network," I say, my hands trembling at my sides as I try to make him understand how ridiculous this sounds.

"We checked the IP address and the local device connection, and it came directly from the primary terminal in your office," Vivian chimes in, stepping forward with a look of fake concern that makes me want to scream.

"I was not even in the apartment when those files were sent, Roman, because I was at the arena checking on the rehab schedules until seven," I say, turning back to my husband and waiting for him to defend me against her interference.

"The export happened at eight-fifteen, Audrey, right around the time you supposedly got home," Roman says, pulling his tablet out of his pocket and tapping the screen to show me a string of data I cannot even read through my blurred vision.

"So you are just going to believe the computer logs over your own wife?" I ask, the tears stinging the backs of my eyes as the reality of the situation settles into my bones.

"I am going to believe facts, and right now the facts point straight to you, so I need you to explain why your login was used to hand our entire playbook to our biggest rival," Roman demands, stepping closer until I can feel the heat radiating off him, but there is no warmth left in his gaze at all.

"I did not do it, Roman, and if you cannot see that someone is setting me up, then you never really knew me at all," I say, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper as I stare up at him.

Vivian clears her throat softly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while a triumphant grin threatens to break through her careful expression.

"Maybe you should ask her if she has been talking to anyone from the Chicago syndicate, Roman, because people do strange things when they want out of a marriage," Vivian says, dropping the poison right where she knows it will do the most damage.

Roman's jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle tick in his cheek, and his eyes darken even further as he looks down at me, waiting for an answer I refuse to give to a woman like her.

"Get out," I tell Vivian, pointing my finger toward the front door without breaking eye contact with my husband.

"Audrey, do not speak to her that way in our home," Roman warns, stepping directly between us to shield her from my anger.

"Our home? Is that what this is, Roman, because it feels a lot more like a cage right now?" I ask, letting the last two years of swallowed words finally spill out across the room.

"This conversation is not over, and neither is the investigation into this leak," Roman says, turning his back on me as he walks toward the kitchen with Vivian trailing right behind him like she belongs here more than I do.

I stand alone in the middle of the living room, listening to the low murmur of their voices coming from the kitchen, and I realize tonight was never about a missed anniversary dinner because the trap was already sprung before I even lit the candles.