Chapter 5 The Perfect Facade

~Angela Pov~

Two months into our marriage, life seemed to fall seamlessly into place, very easily. If anyone asked me, I'd say Gary and I had the perfect arrangement, we weren't bound by love or emotional expectations, which, surprisingly, made things smoother than I had imagined.

Mornings of 'coffee' shared in the kitchen, his guffaw at my sharp remark on his choice of tie for that day, used to his lousy food since he was not that good a cook, but at least he had tried, which had sufficed to amuse me till lunch.

He was my perfect PA in the office, with his sharp suit, quick wit, and that ever-present smirk that kept things...interesting. Of course, the staff whispered about us: "The boss and her husband," they'd say with knowing grins. But no one dared question me.

And the nights were for tangled sheets, soft moans, and whispered challenges on who would break first. For a marriage of convenience, we sure made the most of our benefits.

He would stare at me through meetings as if his eyes were full of promises that only I could decipher.

He sat on the other end of the table, his laptop open, fingers poised over the keyboard to start typing. But he didn't look at the screen. It was on me, my movement, the sound of my voice, and the curl of my lips while speaking.

He'd follow me into my office after everyone else had left, closing the door softly behind him.

"You know," he'd say, leaning against the doorframe with that infuriating grin, "it's hard to concentrate when you're sitting there like that."

"Like what?" I'd ask, feigning innocence.

He'd walk closer, loosening his tie as he spoke. "Like you're daring me to do something about it."

And he usually did.

It was the secrecy, the taboo of our office trysts that kept the spark alive. He was mine, and I liked to remind him often.

It was on a quiet Thursday afternoon, two months into what had seemed like an everyday routine, that the first crack in our perfect façade appeared.

I was in my office, just flipping through emails. Gary had gone off on errands for me. The sun shone in through the high windows, warming the room. Or so I'm sure it did.

One email was highlighted. The subject was innocuous enough: FYI – Thought you should see this.

I frowned as I opened the email. It contained only a single line of text and an attachment.

"Angela, none of my business, but I thought you should at least know what is going on."

Attached is a screenshot of a message exchange.

I stared at the image. My heart rate was steady, but my mind had honed into a blade. This was not the kind of reaction most women have: no instant fury, no broken heart, quiet curiosity.

The messages were between Gary and someone listed only as "F."

F: Can't wait to see you again. Last night was incredible.

Gary: Soon. You know how careful we have to be.

I leaned back in my chair, my lips twitching into something close to a smirk. The audacity.

The possibilities weighed for one moment, it could be a misunderstanding; "F" was perhaps some colleague, and they were talking about-anything but what it sounded like. Deep inside, I knew better.

Still, I wasn't really angry. More curious.

I whispered the word to myself as the word felt out of place in my mouth: "Cheating? He wouldn't do that, would he?"

Almost immediately, I dialed Skye.

Detective Skye was no amateur, and she was ruthlessly efficient, sharp, and got the dirt where others couldn't. I had previously employed her on smaller matters, background checks on prospective employees, and discreet investigations into rival companies, but this was the first time I would employ her for something on a personal level.

She was no different when she came to my house a few hours later, tall, commanding, and in black from head to toe. Her hair was cropped and framed her face in sharp angles, while her eyes seemed to miss nothing.

"Miss Angela," she greeted me with a slight inclination of her head. Her voice was low and even and as no-nonsense as ever.

"Skye," I said, nodding for her to have a seat. I poured her a glass of wine and took one myself.

She took the glass but didn't drink from it, her eyes scanning the room already as if it held answers to questions I hadn't asked yet. "What's the situation?"

I handed her my phone email and the screenshot was already open. "I got this today. It would appear my husband has been. Distracted."

Skye's eyes flickered across the messages, unreadable. "And you want me to confirm this?"

"Not just confirm," I said, swiveling wine in my glass. "I want to know it all. Who she is, how long this has been going on, where they meet. I want details, Skye. Every detail."

She nodded once, pursing her lips into a thin line. "Consider it done."

But the fact that she seemed so confident was comforting, although, if anything, it was her competence for which I was grateful. Skye didn't ask too many questions, nor did she judge based on morals. She did what she was being paid to do.

Standing, I couldn't help the slight curve of my lips. "Skye," I called to her.

She turned one eyebrow raised in question.

"Be thorough," I said, my voice light, and with an edge.

Her lips twisted wryly to what might have been a smile. "I Always am."

It was long after she was gone that I settled onto the plush couch in the living room, my glass of wine clutched in my hands. It was a very still room; the only sound was the soft ticking of an antique clock on the mantel.

I leaned my head back against the cushions and let my mind wander.

"Gary." The man who shared my bed, my office, my life at least for now.

Did he think that I wouldn't notice? Wouldn't care?

I drank more wine, feeling its rich, velvety taste linger in my mouth. My lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile as my gaze fell upon the empty fireplace.

"Cheating?" I exclaimed once more, almost to myself, this time. "He dares?!