Chapter 4: Lila's Threat

Chloe's POV

I stared at those words until my eyes burned, red-rimmed and refusing to believe them. My breathing stopped dead, and my body — still warm from a few minutes ago — felt as if it had been dropped straight into an ice bath.

No. That couldn't be. Rhys had explained everything so sincerely just now. He'd had a necklace made for me with his own hands. We'd held each other in bed like there was nothing else in the world. How could he be checking into a hotel room behind my back?

But what if he was?

Every single tip the stranger had sent me so far had been accurate to a point that was almost obscene.

My hands started shaking so hard I couldn't stop them. Slowly, my eyes drifted to the bedroom carpet, where Rhys's jacket lay in a heap, torn off in his earlier impatience.

Go look. One glance and I'd know the truth.

I got out of bed like a body with the soul taken out of it, lifting the covers without a sound. Holding my breath, I walked step by step to the black jacket, crouched down, and slid a trembling hand into the pocket. My fingers groped through the smooth fabric, and soon they brushed a slip of paper.

My pulse skyrocketed. I pulled it out fast and unfolded the neatly creased receipt. In the dim warm glow of the bedside lamp, the printed lines came into focus — The St. Regis, Deluxe Suite, check-in 17th, 23:14, charged £1,800.

And at the very bottom of the itemized charges, in a signature I knew by heart: Rhys.

The night of the 17th. The night he'd told me the team had a closed training session and he couldn't come home to me.

My mind went blank. Humiliation and sheer absurdity poured over me like a flood.

Fake. All of it, everything that had just happened between us, was fake. He'd woven a net out of lies and played me for the biggest fool on earth.

I was drenched in cold sweat when the water in the bathroom cut off. In the silence of the room, the lock turned. My eyes went wide; on instinct I shoved the receipt into the pocket of my pajamas, set his jacket back exactly where it had been, and straightened up fast, my back to the bathroom door.

It swung open and Rhys came out bare-chested, a white towel slung loose around his hips. Water still beaded along his broad chest and the ridged muscle of his stomach, everything about him giving off heat and raw male scent. He saw me standing beside the bed, and a satisfied, tender smile curved his mouth. He walked slowly up behind me and pulled me into his arms, his warm chest against my back, and bent his head to lay a dense line of kisses down my neck and collarbone. "Why didn't you stay in bed and rest a while longer?" he murmured, indulgent. "I wore you out just now, didn't I? Hmm?"

Every inch of skin he touched turned my stomach. I swallowed it down, turned, and used the movement of pushing his arms away to step back half a pace. "I'm covered in sweat," I said, my voice flat with exhaustion. "It's uncomfortable lying down. I want to shower."

Rhys laughed softly. He hadn't noticed a thing. He reached out and, as naturally as if it were nothing at all, scooped me up off my feet and carried me toward the bathroom. "You've had a long night. I'll run you a hot bath."

He set me down in the tub carefully, then crouched beside it and stroked my hair. "Take your time. If anything's uncomfortable, or if you need me, just call. I'll be right outside."

"Okay." I lowered my head, avoiding his burning gaze, and nodded.

Rhys thought nothing of it. He kissed my forehead, turned, and left the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind him. The second it clicked closed, every shred of my composure collapsed.

I scrubbed my forehead with the back of my hand, hard, then stood up in the tub. So that Rhys outside wouldn't hear anything strange, I reached down and turned on the faucet, letting the rush of water cover everything. Hands shaking, I took my phone out of my pocket, opened the anonymous message thread, and typed with everything I had left:

Who are you? How do you know so much about Rhys?! What exactly do you want by sending me all this?

My hand clamped around the phone. Seconds later the screen lit up with a reply:

If you want the whole truth, be at the café near Rhys's club tomorrow morning at ten. You'll get every answer you're looking for.

Looking at that familiar address on the screen, my eyes went bloodshot.

I'd go. I had to go. Whatever truth was waiting for me out there, I couldn't stay in the dark like a fool any longer.

The next morning I sat at the window table of the café in sunglasses, my eyes fixed on the door. Time crawled by, and at exactly ten, the wind chimes over the entrance rang out bright and clear and the glass door swung open. A familiar figure walked in. She was wearing a pair of huge sunglasses, but I recognized her in a heartbeat.

Lila. What was she doing at this café? A thought I couldn't bring myself to believe forced its way into my head — and as if she'd guessed it, as if to prove it, Lila began walking slowly toward me.

She sat down across from me, took off the sunglasses, flicked a strand of hair back with a fingertip, and looked at me the way someone looks at something beneath them.

Absurdity slammed into my skull. I shot up out of my seat, brows knotted, and pointed at her. "You're the one who's been sending me those anonymous messages? You've been spying on us?"

My fury didn't rattle her in the slightest. Lila laughed out loud, tipped herself back against the soft cushions of the sofa, and said, mocking, "Sit down, Chloe. Don't be so rash. I asked you here today because I want to have a proper talk with you."

I clenched my teeth and stayed standing, looking at her coldly.

Lila didn't hesitate any longer. "Since you've already worked it out, I'll say it straight. I asked you here because I want you to be the one to file for divorce — give up your place as Rhys's wife."

"What did you say?" I thought I'd misheard her.

Lila's lips curled into a smile that was almost cruel. "As you can see, Rhys is with me now. You saw the hotel record, didn't you? He's a lot happier at my side than he ever was with a boring woman like you. He doesn't love you anymore, Chloe. So why cling to the title of his wife and make yourself look so pathetic and so unnecessary?"

I'd had a feeling. But hearing those words come out of this woman's mouth, for real, was like a blade going into my chest — the pain left me barely able to breathe. The childhood sweetheart who'd once sworn me an eternal vow had truly betrayed me. I drew a deep breath, braced both hands against the table, and looked at her with an icy face. "And who do you think you are, to tell me to divorce him?"

Something shifted in Lila's expression. I gave a cold laugh and struck back. "Rhys and I have been together seven years. We grew up side by side. I know his temper better than anyone alive! Unless he asks me for a divorce with his own mouth, I will always be his wife. And you — whatever cheap tricks you used to seduce him, legally and morally you will never be anything but a mistress who can't be seen in daylight!"

"You—" Lila's face turned ugly in an instant.

"If you think I'll step aside on my own, keep dreaming!" I threw the words down and, unwilling to look at this woman one second longer, turned and walked straight for the café door. My steps were fast, my back held rigid, propped up by the last of my dignity.

But just as my hand was about to touch the handle, Lila stood up behind me and called out, syllable by syllable, "Chloe, remember what you said today! One day I'll make you regret the choice you made here!"