Chapter 9 - Caught in the Light
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The reaction was instantaneous and entirely chaotic.
Daniel scrambled backward against the headboard, pulling the sheet up to cover himself, his face draining of all color. He looked like a man who had just seen a ghost.
Ashley shrieked, diving under the heavy duvet, her eyes wide with absolute, unadulterated terror as she saw me standing in the doorway.
But her terror reached astronomical, paralyzing heights when the broad, menacing figure of Mark stepped out from behind me, blocking the only exit.
“Mark,” Ashley gasped, her voice cracking, her hands shaking violently as she clutched the sheets to her chest.
Mark didn't yell. He didn't pull a weapon. He just stood there, radiating a dark, lethal energy that sucked all the oxygen out of the room.
“You told him I beat you, Ashley,” Mark stated, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. “You told him I locked you out of your accounts.”
“Mark, please, let me explain,” Ashley begged, tears streaming down her perfectly contoured face.
“There’s nothing to explain,” Mark replied coldly. “I’ve seen the bank statements. I’ve seen the hotel receipts. I just wanted to see the coward you chose over me.”
Daniel was hyperventilating. He looked at me, desperate, pathetic.
“Claire, this... this isn't what it looks like!” Daniel stammered, the oldest, most pathetic lie in the history of infidelity.
“Save it, Daniel,” I snapped, my voice cracking like a whip. “I read the burner phone. I know about Aspen. I know about the fifty thousand dollars. The illusion is over.”
Daniel covered his face with his hands, letting out a pathetic, broken groan.
“What do you want?” Ashley cried, looking frantically between Mark and me.
“I want you to get dressed,” Mark ordered, stepping aside. “Both of you.”
Daniel and Ashley scrambled out of the bed, grabbing their clothes and dressing with frantic, humiliating speed. Neither of them dared to make eye contact with us.
When they were fully dressed, they stood awkwardly in the center of the room, looking like two condemned prisoners waiting for the executioner’s axe.
“Are you going to kill us?” Daniel asked, his voice shaking, looking terrified of Mark.
Mark let out a dark, humorless laugh. “Killing you would be a mercy, Daniel. And I am not a merciful man.”
I stepped forward, looking directly into my husband’s eyes.
“Tomorrow night is the charity gala, Daniel,” I said softly, dangerously calm. “You are going to stand on that stage, and you are going to announce the new acquisition. And I am going to be right by your side.”
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“Claire, please, I can't do this,” Daniel begged.
“You will do exactly what I tell you,” I promised him. “Because if you don't, Mark’s associates will pay a visit to your board of directors and explain exactly where the missing fifty thousand dollars from the corporate accounts went.”
