In the Wake of Truth

(Jane's POV)

They say you remember moments of trauma in pieces-like glass shattering, each shard catching a different reflection. Maybe it's your breath hitching in your throat.

Maybe it's the sound of your own heartbeat turning into thunder. Or maybe it's the way the ground suddenly feels like it's tilting beneath your feet, and you're just... falling.

I wasn't supposed to be home tonight. My work trip to Boston was meant to last four days-stiff suits, bland hotel breakfasts, investor pitches. But I finished the presentation in half the time. Two days flat. Efficient. Strategic. I was proud.

I imagined Nathan's surprise when I walked through the door, maybe even a little turned on. I wanted to be spontaneous again. The wife who used to wake him with kisses, not reminders about dry cleaning.

So I went all out.

Merlot from the overpriced wine shop on 13th. The silky black nightgown he once said made me "too tempting to function." My heels in one hand, the wine in the other. My heart humming with hope, as I crept down the hallway of our apartment building, imagining the smile on his face.

The door creaked open with a gentle push. The living room, dim and bathed in the soft golden hue of the lamp, was wrong. Jazz played through the speakers. Nathan didn't even like jazz.

Something felt off.

I walked inside, my bare feet making no noise on the cold marble floor. The wine clinked softly in my hand as I moved closer ahead. The anticipation in my heart was strong-nothing like the gladness I'd visualized.

Then I heard it.

A moan.

Low. Deep. Female.

I froze. My mind scrambled for an explanation. A movie? His phone? Maybe he fell asleep to something inappropriate? But then I heard his voice-close, groaning.

And her again. Louder. More urgent. More intense

I dropped the wine.

The bottle broke, the red liquid content bleeding onto the marble floor like a wounded artery. I didn't even batter an eye.

Something inside me went dead.

I moved toward the bedroom, barely breathing. Each step felt heavier than the last. My fingers brushed the wall, searching for something solid to hold onto. But even the familiar texture of the paint felt foreign beneath my skin.

The door was slightly open, glowing with a sliver of golden light that spilled into the hallway like a secret. From inside, I heard it-soft gasps, breathless and intimate. The rhythm of bodies moving in synchrony.

Whispers of pleasure, like prayers at an altar of desire.

I wanted to turn back. To pretend I was still outside with the wine, still holding onto hope like a fool with a gift in my hand and love on my tongue. But something pulled me forward.

The truth, maybe.

Or the cruel part of my heart that needed to know.

I pushed the door open.

And my world... stopped.

Time didn't slow-it fractured.

There he was. Nathan. The man who had once sworn his forever into my hands beneath the soft petals of springtime roses. The man whose laughter had filled our home, whose touch had once been the only thing that quieted my racing mind.

Now he was a stranger.

Naked. Moving. Drowned in the kind of sexual drive that was supposed to belong to us-not borrowed, not stolen, not given away like an unbearable song. His back arched, muscles taut beneath a sheen of sweat dripping on his exerted body.

His hands held firmly to the sheets like he was holding onto life itself, knuckles white, desperate. And his mouth-oh My God-his mouth was pressed into her soft delicate neck, tracing down her skin with a reverence that killed something sacred on my inside.

She held unto him as though they were meant to be, her body a perfect expression to his lustful desires. Legs tangled at his hips, hands holding unto his backside. She moved with him-fluid, fevered, soft-as if they had rehearsed every moment, like their bodies had desperately wanted to be in sync for far too long.

I stood stupefied, eyes wide open and mouth ajar. My lungs failed me, my body a vessel of nothing but shock and disbelief. The air around me felt too thin, too unconducive.

The sound of their intimacy, once soft, now rumbled in my ears, drowning out the pounding of my heart.

I didn't let tears drop down my cheek. Not yet. Tears required belief, and all I had was disbelief-pure, undiluted, suffocating. As though it was all a dream.

And then-she turned.

Not fully. Just a part of her head, her eyes catching mine over Nathan's shoulder.

For a second, the world stopped spinning. Her face was a blur, but her eyes-shock, recognition, fear-flickered in them.

In a frantic movement, she shoved Nathan off her, limbs scrambling to cover herself. Nathan blinked, confused at first. His body still lost in pleasure, his gaze following hers-until it landed on me.

Everything changed in an instant.

He whispered my name, but it was too late. The damage had been done. The room, once ours, was now haunted, and I was the ghost.

"Don't," I choked, the words barely scraping past the rawness in my throat.

Nathan moved toward me, his eyes frantic, pleading. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. The woman-her-had already fled, disappearing into the night.

I hadn't seen her face, but the memory of her desperate flight was burned into my mind, her body twisting as she scrambled to escape what she knew was about to happen. Something fell off from her body.

I didn't even notice the woman's hasty departure at first, too stunned by the scene in front of me.

But what fell off...

A silver bracelet-her silver bracelet-lay abandoned on the marble floor, like a cruel reminder of everything I hadn't wanted to know.

I reached down with trembling fingers, the cold metal biting into my skin as I grasped it, the weight of it pulling me back into the moment. The bracelet was still warm with the heat of her skin. It felt wrong in my hand-foreign, yet too familiar.

Nathan stepped forward, his face a mask of panic and regret. His voice cracked as he tried to find words, but they faltered before they could take shape. "Jane... please, you didn't see her face." His eyes darted between me and the floor, as if searching for some way to undo what had already been done.

"I... I can't tell you who she is. I-" His words trailed off, a choked breath replacing any attempt at explanation.

His hesitation-his complete lack of clarity-cut deeper than anything he could have said. The silence that followed was worse than any confession. It was the absence of understanding, the failure to recognize the depth of the damage.

I wanted to shout at him, to fling the bracelet at his chest and demand answers. But my body betrayed me. The only thing I could do was clutch the bracelet tighter, feeling the cold metal dig into my palm, grounding me in the wreckage of a life I never thought would fall apart. At least even if it would not be in this manner.

Without uttering a word, I turned, each step heavy, like the floor itself was resisting me, pulling me back to that fractured moment. But I had to go. The dreadful silence in that room was too much, and as I stepped further away from him I knew deep within me that this situation was one that I couldn't salvage.

The one thing left in my palm was the cold, familiar bracelet-the one that had fallen off the mystery woman.

(Jane's POV)

I didn't remember how I made it down the stairs-or how I ended up outside, the city's breath slapping me in the face. I think I ran, but my legs moved on their own. The cold night air whipped against my skin, but I didn't care.

I just kept going-because if I stopped, the weight of what I'd seen would crush me.

Taxi lights blurred by. Somewhere behind me, I thought I heard Nathan call my name-but maybe it was in my head. I didn't look back.

I flagged down a taxi, told the driver to take me to the Musk Hotel. The ride was short. When we arrived, I paid the fare and walked straight to the entrance without hesitation. The doorman opened the brass-trimmed doors, and I stepped into another world-a cleaner, quieter one than the wreck I'd just left behind.

The lobby shimmered with light. Chandeliers hung like smug little stars, oblivious to my unraveling. My heels clicked against black marble, each step aching.

I pulled my coat tighter-not for warmth, but to keep from falling apart.

"Good evening, ma'am. Welcome to the Musk Suites. Do you have a reservation?" the concierge asked with a polite smile.

I almost laughed. Reservation? As if anything in my life was planned.

"No," I said quietly. "Just... an executive room. Somewhere secluded."

He typed quickly, avoiding my eyes. Maybe it was the way I looked-cocktail dress, streaked mascara, the emptiness in my voice. Either way, he asked no questions and handed me the keycard.

Minutes later, I was inside a suite with giant windows overlooking the city.

Lights sparkled from distant towers, but I felt hollow. I dropped my purse, slid down the wall, and sat there-gasping. Not crying. Just gasping for air.

The silver bracelet burned in my palm.

I'd held it so tightly that it left angry impressions on my skin. Slowly, I uncurled my fingers and stared at it-sleek, delicate... familiar. I'd seen it before.

This wasn't some stranger's jewelry.

No, the woman who wore this-she was someone I'd known.

Inside the band, etched in faint script, was a single word.

"To J. – Forever."

Forever......

The word echoed through my mind like a bad joke.

I let out a subtle laugh, then flinched at the sound. It was too loud. Too hurtful.

I stood and crossed the room, pouring myself a glass of water with shaking hands.

Then, without further thoughts, I dropped the bracelet on the golden hotel linen like it was an intriguing object. I stared at it, as though by so doing I would jug my memories as to whom it belonged to. Nothing came. No flashes. No revelations

Who was she?

What kind of woman slept with another woman's husband and left behind a token like a signature?

I paced through the right corner of my bed. Then stopped. Then sat. Then stood again.

"Get a grip of yourself, Jane," I muttered to myself. "Think."

But my thoughts were scattered-fragments of moments I didn't want to relive.

Nathan's eyes.

The way he hadn't chased after me.

The crack in his voice when he said, "I can't tell you who she is."

He was protecting her.

Why?

Maybe I should've paid closer attention to the woman as she fled-watched how she moved, what she wore, anything that could've helped me identify her. But I hadn't. I was too overwhelmed, too broken in the moment to see clearly. And now all I had was a bitter question that refused to let me be.

I grabbed my phone, my fingers hovering over Nathan's name. I wanted to return his calls. I wanted to scream until he gave me answers. But what if he didn't? What if he gave me more silence?

No.

The screen lit up again-his name flashing for the seventh time that night. He had been calling non-stop since I walked out. Each call I ignored was another nail in the coffin of what we once shared. I couldn't bring myself to answer. Not yet. Maybe never again.

Let him sit with the silence this time.

I needed to think. Strategize.

I opened the hotel's vanity drawer and pulled out a notepad. I wrote down the inscription. "J." That didn't narrow it much-Janet, Jessica, Jasmine, Joanna. It could be anyone.

But the bracelet looked expensive and finely crafted. Custom-made. The clasp was unique, almost vintage. I took a photo, then flipped it over and studied the engraving again.

I needed help.

But who would I even tell?

I had no best friend to call.

My sister had been missing for over four years now-I had no idea where she was, or if she was even still alive.

The irony hit me so hard, I nearly laughed.

No best friend. No sister.

No one.

The thought twisted my stomach into knots, so I pulled out my laptop and began a desperate search-Googling jewelry designers with similar clasps, scrolling through pages of images and obscure artisan websites.

Nothing matched. Nothing turned up in the first few minutes.

And I was already running on fumes.

A sharp knock on the door jolted me.

My heart leapt into my throat.

I wasn't expecting anyone.

"Room service," came a muffled voice.

"I didn't order anything," I said, my voice stern.

A brief pause. Then, "Compliments of the Musk Suites. A small refreshment tray for our exclusive guests."

I hesitated, then cracked the door open just enough to see a young man in a crisp uniform standing there with a silver tray. I stepped aside, letting him in, my eyes never leaving him as he placed it gently on the table.

"Need anything else, ma'am?"

"No. Thank you."

He left with a polite nod, and I sank into the chair, staring at the untouched arrangement of fruit and sparkling water. Tucked beneath the edge of the glass was a folded note. My breath caught.

I picked it up.

But it was just a printed welcome message. Generic. Harmless.

I let out a shaky breath. I was getting paranoid.

I covered my face with both hands and groaned. Then I whispered, trying to anchor myself to something that made sense.

"Okay. Tomorrow. You'll go to that custom jewelry store on Freedom drive. Someone has to know where this bracelet came from."

Even as I spoke it aloud, the words felt like a fragile thread-something to cling to in the wake of everything that had unraveled.

But the ache was already setting into my bones.

A slow, gnawing grief. Not just for the betrayal.

But for the life I thought I had-the marriage, the trust, the warmth of knowing someone and being known.

Gone.

I lay on the bed in the soft dim light, the bracelet beside me on the pillow. Its surface gleamed like a secret in the dark. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the muted hum of the city outside the window, wishing I could silence the storm inside me.

At some point, when sleep refused to come, I whispered the question that had been clawing at me since the moment it all fell apart.

"Why me?"

The silence didn't answer.

Only the bracelet shimmered in response.

Just as I reached for it again, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Nathan.

This time, it wasn't a call. It was a message.

Jane,

I know you won't take my calls, and I understand why. I don't deserve your voice after what I did. I don't know what to say that could ever undo what you saw, what you felt.

But please believe this-I am sorry. From the deepest part of me. Not just for the act, but for the lies, the silence, the pain I caused you.

I've been sitting here, drowning in guilt, knowing I can't fix it. And maybe that's the worst part-realizing I destroyed something beautiful because I was too weak to face the truth myself.

Maybe it's best we go our separate ways. Maybe the divorce will give us both the peace we can't seem to find together anymore.

But I will always regret this. And I will always remember you as the best part of my life.

Please take care of yourself. You deserve more than I ever gave.

-Nathan

I stared at the screen long after the message faded.

Hot tears streaming down my cheeks...........

(Jane's POV)

I stared at the screen long after the message faded, spit trailing down my mouth as hot tears streamed down my cheeks, smudging the already ruined mascara. My fingers clenched around the phone, knuckles aching.

"Maybe the divorce will give us both the peace..."

The words hung in the air like the stench of something decayed.

It was one thing to be lied to, to walk in on the man you swore you could vouch for buried in someone else's arms. But this?

This was him giving up.

And maybe that was what hurt the most.

Not the act itself-

But how easily he was unwilling to take responsibility for his actions.

If anyone should be asking for a divorce, it ought to be me. I'm the one who's been hurt here.

I paced the room like a woman on the brink-six steps to the window, six steps back. The city glittered beneath me in a thousand indifferent lights, each mocking my unraveling sanity. Just outside my door, the faint murmur of heels clicking and laughter echoed through the hallway.

"Girl, I swear Club Mevron is just a block from here," one woman's voice drifted through the corridor.

"Ugh, thank God. I need a drink and a distraction," another giggled.

I stood stupefied. Club Mevron. A block away.

A distraction.

It wasn't a plan. It was an impulse. And right now, that was all I had.

I didn't think-didn't want to. I grabbed my clutch, slipped into the red cocktail dress I'd never worn, and left the hotel like my sanity depended on it.

The night air slapped me in the face, but it was better than the heaviness weighing down inside me. The doorman barely glanced up as I stepped onto the sidewalk and followed the pulsating sound of bass and laughter down the street.

Five minutes later, I pushed through the gilded doors of Club Mevron.

The bass thrummed through the walls like a second heartbeat. Velvet lounges, silver-trimmed tables, and mirrored ceilings gave the place an illusion of grandeur-like money had dressed up pain and called it a party.

I slipped into a booth at the far end. The red dress clung to me firmly, putting my curves on full display. I didn't care how many people stared. Let them. Let them wonder what kind of woman comes alone to a place like this-eyes dead, lips tight.

"Double gin. No lime," I told the bartender when he stopped in front of me.

He raised an eyebrow, probably noticing the damage. "Rough night?"

I laughed-hollow, sharp. "You could say that again."

He didn't press. Just nodded and slid the glass toward me.

I downed the first sip like it owed me something. The burn hit hard, and I welcomed it. It was familiar, the kind of pain I could control. I wasn't the type to drink like this, but right now, my body felt like a stranger's.

Within minutes, two men approached. Slick suits. Colognes that screamed distaste.

"Hey there, pretty thing," the first one drawled. "What's a beauty like you doing all alone tonight?"

"Plotting a murder," I said flatly.

They laughed-one nervously, the other still cocky. "Feisty. I like that."

"I don't like you," I snapped, eyes flashing. "Now run along before I pour this drink on your stupid face."

They got the message. Mumbled something about 'crazy women' and drifted away.

I ordered another drink.

"You really do know how to clear a room."

The voice came from behind me-deep, amused, male.

I turned.

A man stood there, tall, rugged in a suit that didn't try too hard. He didn't smile like the others. He watched me like he already knew the story.

"And you are?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

"Andrew," he said. "Andrew Dole."

The name clicked in my head like a drawer I'd long forgotten slamming open.

"Nathan's friend?" I asked, blinking harder now, trying to focus on the man sitting across from me.

The club lights shimmered off the whiskey in his glass, off the sharp edge of his jawline. Everything about him was too put-together for someone supposedly estranged.

He gave a wry smile, the kind that suggested history-deep, bitter, complicated. "Used to be. Childhood friend, yes. 'Estranged' would be the polite term now."

I narrowed my eyes. "And you just happened to be here tonight?"

"No," he slid into the booth without asking, the scent of something expensive and dangerous trailing behind him. "I saw you walk in. Recognized you immediately. Couldn't resist."

I scoffed. "Well, congratulations. You found the broken wife."

"No," he said, voice softer, deliberate. "I found the woman he didn't deserve."

That silenced me.

I stared at him. He stared back.

Something in the way he looked at me-steady, unflinching-made me feel seen in a way Nathan never had, not even on our best days. And that terrified me. "How much do you know?" I whispered, my voice barely above the pulse of the music.

He tilted his head, eyes dark with something unreadable. "Not enough to have all the pieces... just enough to know you shouldn't be here alone."

I narrowed my gaze. "That's not an answer."

He shrugged, sipping his drink. "Nathan and I haven't spoken in years, but people talk. And when they do, they talk to me. Your name came up. Rumors. Whispers. Something about a woman storming out of the Frank estate......"

I blinked back another wave of dizziness-equal parts alcohol and emotion. "So what, you came to play knight in shining armor?"

He leaned in, close enough for his cologne to drown the rest of the room. "No. I came because I know exactly what betrayal tastes like. And because I figured... you might want someone who understands. Even if only for tonight."

He smirked, the kind that made it impossible to tell if he was flirting or scheming.

"By the way, I have a proposition for you."

That pulled me back to full alert. "A proposition?"

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, eyes never leaving mine. "More like a contract. Between you and me. One that could change everything-if you're willing to play."

I tilted my head, the gin buzzing beneath my skin. "I'm listening..."

He leaned in, elbows on the table, his voice smooth but firm. "We get married. For two years. Publicly. Legally. The whole deal."

I blinked. Then laughed-a short, breathless sound. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

"You want to marry me?" I asked, barely believing the words coming out of my mouth.

"Not out of love," he said quickly, eyes never leaving mine. "This is strategy. Optics. Leverage."

"Against Nathan?"

"Partly," he admitted. "But it's more than that. You need protection right now-real protection. Nathan's got resources, connections, lawyers who would bleed you dry in a real divorce. I have more power than he realizes. We use my name, my assets, my reputation. You become untouchable."

I stared at him, my mind racing back to Nathan's text. "And in return?"

He didn't flinch. "You help me break into the circle Nathan's spent years protecting. His investors, his board, his empire. He's not as clean as he pretends. I've been gathering proof. But I need someone close to him.

Someone he still watches... obsesses over."

"Me," I murmured.

He nodded. "You were always the part of his life he couldn't fully control. Now, you'll be the key to bringing him down."

My stomach swirled with the alcohol and the weight of his words. "So... I'd be your pawn."

"No," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face with an ease that sent a flutter through my throat. "You'd be my partner."

I stared at him, stupefied. "Two years?"

"Two years," he said. "After that, we part ways. Cleanly. No pressure. No strings. But by then... you'll be standing stronger than ever."

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then Andrew reached for my hand-not boldly, but gently, like he was testing if I'd flinch.

I didn't. "Why are you doing this?" I whispered, my voice barely above the pulse of the music. "You barely know me."

He didn't break eye contact. His thumb moved in slow, feather-light strokes over my knuckles, grounding me in a moment I hadn't expected to need.

"Because I've been where you are," he said quietly. "And because... I think you deserve someone in your corner. Someone who isn't trying to fix or claim you. Just-see you."

My throat tightened.

A part of me wanted to pull away, retreat into the safety of sarcasm or silence. But another part-one weary from pretending to be okay-leaned forward.

Our lips met, tentative at first. No urgency. No fire.

Just warmth.

Just human.

He cupped my jaw, fingers trailing behind my ear, and I let myself sink into the kiss-soft, steady, like the kind that whispered you're safe here.

For one breathless moment, Nathan didn't exist.

The betrayal didn't exist.

Even the bracelet

I'd found didn't exist.

It was just him and me.

And the quiet question hovering between us.

But just as I let myself begin to breathe-

BUZZZZZ.

The phone vibrated on the table, loud against the polished glass.

I glanced down.

[CALLER ID: JULIA]

My breath caught in my throat.

No.

No, no, no.

This had to be a dream.