Elta POV:
Corbin returned from his "big meeting" with a flourish, his usual swagger amplified. He walked into my office, a designer shopping bag dangling from one hand, a wide, practiced smile on his face. The scent of an unfamiliar, expensive perfume clung to his tailored suit.
"Darling! You're still here!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with faux concern. He leaned in, attempting to kiss me, but I subtly turned my head, offering my cheek. His lips brushed against my skin, a fleeting touch that made my stomach clench.
"Just tying up some loose ends, Corbin," I replied, my voice smooth, controlled, a stark contrast to the tumult in my chest. I didn't look at him, my gaze fixed on the glowing screen of my laptop.
He chuckled, a sound that used to charm me but now grated on my nerves. "Always working, my brilliant wife. But even you need a break." He placed the shopping bag on my desk, the rustle of tissue paper echoing in the quiet office. "Look what I found for you during my trip. I know how much you adore Italian silk."
I glanced at the bag. It held a vibrant, floral-patterned scarf, undoubtedly exquisite and exorbitantly priced. A peace offering, a trinket to distract me from the gaping wounds he'd inflicted.
"It's lovely, Corbin," I said, my tone as neutral as I could make it. I didn't touch the gift. It felt tainted, a physical manifestation of his lies. It was a tangible reminder of the woman he bought gifts for instead of me, the woman he spent his "business trips" with.
He seemed to miss the icy detachment in my voice. "I saw it and immediately thought of you. So vibrant, so full of life, just like my Elta. And you know, I even got something for Kenisha. A little doll she's been wanting." He prattled on, filling the silence with his superficial affection, completely oblivious to the chasm that had opened between us.
My gaze drifted to his neck, then his wrist. A faint red scratch, barely visible beneath his cuff, a small, aggressive testament to the 'accident' I'd witnessed in the street. His "big meeting" had involved a dramatic car crash with his mistress, and he'd had the audacity to come here, smelling of her perfume, offering me gifts as if nothing had happened. The sheer arrogance was breathtaking.
He was a master of deceit, a performer of love. And I, like a fool, had bought every ticket to his show. The thought made my throat tighten, a bitter, metallic taste blooming on my tongue.
Just then, the door to my office opened. Byrd Weiss, looking demure in a beige power suit, entered, a stack of files in her arms. Her eyes, usually darting nervously, held a smug, knowing glint as they met Corbin's.
"Oh, Mrs. Richards, Mr. Potter," she chirped, her voice saccharine sweet. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important." She paused, her gaze lingering on the shopping bag on my desk. "That scarf looks absolutely divine, Elta. Corbin always has such impeccable taste, doesn't he? It's so thoughtful of him to remember you during his travels."
Corbin, ever the smooth operator, put an arm around my shoulder, his touch making me stiffen. "Of course not, Byrd. Just a little something for my wife." He squeezed my shoulder, a false gesture of intimacy.
I shifted, subtly dislodging his arm. "Byrd, I'm quite busy right now. Did you need something?"
She batted her eyelashes, a practiced innocent look on her face. "Oh, no, Mrs. Richards. I just finished compiling those reports you requested. I thought I'd bring them over personally." She placed the files carefully on the corner of my desk, her fingers brushing past the designer bag.
Corbin, catching my dismissive tone, quickly interjected, "Byrd is always so efficient, Elta. Such a dedicated worker." He shot me a glance, a silent plea for me to be 'nice'.
My stomach twisted. Dedicated worker? She was dedicated to ruining my life, to stealing my husband, to swapping my child. The hypocrisy was a suffocating blanket.
"Thank you, Byrd. You can leave them. I'll get to them later," I said, my voice cool, my eyes never leaving hers. A flicker of discomfort crossed her face, quickly masked.
She nodded, then turned to Corbin. "Well, Mr. Potter, it was lovely seeing you. I'll just get back to my desk." She began to leave, but not before exchanging a quick, almost imperceptible glance with Corbin-a secret language, a shared triumph.
Corbin, watching her go, let out a sigh. "Sometimes, Elta, you're a little hard on the staff. Byrd works very diligently for you."
My blood ran cold. He was defending her. Defending his mistress, the woman he conspired with to steal my life.
"Corbin," I said, my voice low, dangerous, "I think we've said enough for today. I have important work to do." I stood up, gathering some papers. "I'm going to step out for a moment. Please, make yourself at home, or leave."
I didn't wait for his response. I walked out of my office, a sudden, overwhelming wave of nausea hitting me. My body felt like it was rejecting the air he breathed, the space he occupied.
As I closed the door behind me, I heard his defeated sigh. He probably thought I was being difficult, that I was just 'in a mood.' He had no idea the storm that was brewing.
I walked straight to the security office. "I need full access to my office's internal cameras, past six months. And I need it now. Do not question me." My voice was quiet, but it held an undeniable authority. The security chief, a burly man named Frank, didn't hesitate. He simply nodded and typed furiously.
The footage would confirm what I already knew, but it would also provide the evidence I needed. Evidence to take everything from him. Everything.
