All Chapters of BEAUTIFULLY UNFAITHFULLY : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Laurel's POV The transition from Professor Leonard to Laurel the wife always felt like stepping off a cliff.By 4:30 p.m., my lectures on behavioral adaptation were finished. I had spent the day standing tall at the podium, my five-foot-eleven frame wrapped in a structured camel-hair blazer that Amanda had insisted made me look "untouchable." On campus, I was a force. Students listened; colleagues deferred. But the moment my voice or key-card sometimes turned in the lock of the penthouse door, the armor evaporated.The apartment was unnervingly loud with the sound of movement, I walked into the master bedroom and froze.Two expensive travelling bags lay open on the king-sized bed. Leonard was moving between the walk-in closet and the mattress with practiced, efficient speed, tossing silk ties and pressed shirts into the luggage."Leonard?" I closed the door behind me, my briefcase slipping from my fingers to the hardwood floor. "What's going on?""I have a flight in an hour," he sai

Laurel’s POVI managed to snap the lid back onto the black box with a sharp clack, sliding it behind the fruit bowl a mere millisecond before Lilibeth rounded the kitchen corner. My face was burning so hot I was certain it was glowing pink."I'm seventeen," Lilibeth continued, her school blazer slung over one shoulder, her uniform shirt missing its top button in true teenage rebellion. She reached past me to grab a green apple from the bowl, completely missing the contraband hiding right behind it. "You and Dad treat me like I'm still in middle school. Go get a drink with Auntie Amanda. Please! I actually want the penthouse to myself for once."Amanda didn't miss a beat. The wicked smirk vanished, replaced instantly by her bright, doting godmother smile. "See? The child has spoken, Laurel, and honestly, look at her… she’s practically a grown woman." Amanda reached out, pinching Lilibeth’s chin playfully. "Though if I catch you unbuttoning that blouse any further down the street, Lili

Laure’s POV"Amanda, I can't cheat on my husband," I whispered, the word cheat tasting like ash in my mouth, even as my body screamed for the exact opposite."Is it really cheating if he abandoned the contract eighteen months ago?" Amanda countered, leaning in closer, her eyes flashing with a dark, persuasive intensity, she took a slow sip of her drink before dropping a casual, devastating bomb. "Think about it, Laurel, he’s in Chicago right now. You think a powerful, wealthy billionaire tycoon like Leonard Nicholson is spending his nights in a sterile hotel room just reading financial briefs? For all you know, he’s out there right now, sexing some twenty-two-year-old model or executive assistant just because he can."The words landed like a physical blow to my chest. Leonard with someone else. The thought made my stomach twist, but the alcohol twisted it into something angrier. Something venomous.If I don't know Amanda to have my best interest at heart I would have thought otherwis

Laurel’s POVThe atmosphere in the dining room was thick with a carefully orchestrated harmony. Under the soft, amber glow of the crystal chandelier, the table was set with the fine china, a silent, tactical choice on my part. Beautiful things demanded beautiful behavior. I had spent the afternoon preparing a classic roast chicken with rosemary and fingerling potatoes, filling the penthouse with a warm, domestic aroma that purposefully fought against the sterile silence of his absence.I sat at one end of the long mahogany table, wearing a simple, elegant emerald-green knit dress that clung softly to my five-foot-eleven frame, while Leonard sat at the other. He looked exactly as he always did after a major acquisition, immaculate, unbothered, and entirely commanding. The dark charcoal suit he wore was crisp, his silver-streaked hair perfectly styled.To anyone looking through the floor-to-ceiling windows, we were the picture of Upper East Side perfection. And for Lilibeth’s sake, I

Laurel’s POVIt was a Tuesday evening, just past eight o'clock, and the penthouse was wrapped in its usual clinical silence.I sat at the small vanity in the corner of our master bedroom, applying a layer of night cream, trying to lose myself in the mindless rhythm of self-care. Leonard was in the adjacent bathroom, the muffled, steady roar of the shower serving as the background track to my evening.His phone sat on top of the mahogany dresser, resting face-up under the soft glow of the recessed lighting.I wasn't looking for anything. I had trained myself to stop looking, to accept the sterile boundaries of our arrangement. But then, the screen abruptly lit up. A sharp, metallic chime sliced through the quiet room.I glanced over, my fingers pausing on my cheek.An unknown number, lacking a name or a contact card, stretched across the lock screen. Beneath it, the preview text banner caught my eye.Unsaved number.Are you still stuck in New York, or are you coming back to play? I’m w