Isabella reclined lazily against the plush backrest of her office chair, her demeanor one of playful satisfaction. Her fingers lightly grasped Samuel's chin as she leaned in to kiss him, her lips curling into a teasing smile.
"Feeling better now?" she cooed, her voice dripping with indulgence.
Samuel nodded, a mischievous grin playing on his face.
"Tonight, then. Don’t forget," she added with a soft laugh, her tone firm with expectation. "Dress nicely and wait for me at the hotel."
"Got it," Samuel replied smoothly, leaving one last mark on her neck as if claiming territory.
Satisfied, he adjusted his clothes and exited the office, feigning irritation to maintain the charade.
As he stormed out, muttering curses under his breath, a handful of colleagues gathered around him sympathetically.
"Don’t take it personally, Samuel. Madam Waterlow can be... difficult," one offered consolingly.
From my position, watching the scene unfold, their naivety felt like a cruel joke. For two years, they had been carrying on this elaborate pretense of discord, concealing their intimacy while toying with me under my very nose.
Lunch arrived as usual, Isabella’s dutiful hands delivering the tray she’d prepared herself.
"Darling," she said warmly, placing the dish before me. "Try the shrimp today. I know you prefer lighter flavors, so I improved the recipe just for you."
Her voice was honeyed, her smile radiant. Yet beneath her collar, the faint mark left by Samuel was unmistakable. The sight of it made my stomach churn.
"I don’t feel like eating," I murmured, pushing the tray away. "I need some fresh air."
As I rose to leave, Samuel’s voice followed me, carrying that mocking edge I had come to loathe.
"Mr. Smith, if you’re not hungry, could I have a taste?"
Isabella’s expression turned frosty in an instant, but Samuel pressed on, his tone daring.
"I envy you, Mr. Smith. Madam Waterlow’s cooking must be something else. I’d love to see if it’s better than my girlfriend’s."
His words were a game, a calculated attempt to provoke and I saw through it all. Without a word, I slid the lunchbox toward him.
"Eat," I said flatly and left the room.
Downstairs, I wandered to the underground garage, my steps purposeful as I approached Isabella’s car. I’d never felt the urge to invade her privacy before. Trust, I had believed, was the cornerstone of a good marriage. But trust had already been shattered and I was left with nothing but questions demanding answers.
I switched on the car’s dashcam, navigating through the stored files with practiced precision.
There it was. Evidence, undeniable and damning. The screen played back scenes of her and Samuel, their stolen moments of intimacy unfolding within the car’s confined space.
Voices spilled from the audio.
"Did you leave that in my pocket?" Isabella’s voice was sharp, almost accusatory. "Claude saw it. If he finds out, you’re finished."
Samuel’s response was whiny, contrite. "I forgot... I didn’t finish last time. I’m sorry."
Isabella sighed but said nothing and Samuel pressed on, his tone coaxing.
"I promise I’ll be more careful in the future. Don’t be angry, please don’t ignore me..."
Moments later, the audio dissolved into an exchange of hurried, intimate breaths.
I couldn’t bear to watch further. Enough. My suspicions had been more than confirmed. Shutting off the device, I closed my eyes and exhaled shakily.
Wandering outside, I pulled out my phone and dialed my father, who was far away in another country.
"Dad," I said quietly, "can you help me change my identity?"
There was a pause, then his surprised voice crackled over the line.
"Are you serious? My son has finally come around? You’re ready to leave and join me abroad?"
"Yes," I said simply. "I need a new identity and I want the Claude who exists here to... disappear."
My father chuckled, though his tone remained curious. "Of course, I can arrange that. But what about Isabella? She adores you—always by your side. Won’t she stop you?"
"She doesn’t know," I replied, my voice calm but resolute.
For a moment, the weight of my promise hung between us. I had told Isabella once, on the day of our wedding, that if she ever betrayed me, I would vanish from her world without a trace. Now, I intended to keep my word.
And I had prepared a final gift for her.
My disappearance.
