The Enemy I Called Husband

Isabella's POV

The first thing I noticed when I entered our bedroom was the smell. It was faint, almost unnoticeable, but I knew it didn't belong there. Adrian had always complained about strong fragrances, which was why I'd stopped wearing my favorite perfume three years into our marriage. Yet someone had been generous enough to leave the scent of expensive vanilla and jasmine lingering around my husband's side of the bed.

I stood by the doorway for a moment, trying to remember whether I'd used a different air freshener that morning. I hadn't. In fact, I hadn't been home since eight, when Adrian kissed me goodbye and reminded me not to forget our dinner reservation.

Seven years of marriage had taught me many things about my husband. He hated cold coffee, preferred his shirts arranged according to color, and couldn't sleep unless the curtains were completely closed. He also hated unfamiliar scents in his personal space. That was why the perfume bothered me, although I couldn't quite explain the uncomfortable feeling settling in my stomach.

I dropped my handbag on the dresser and slipped off my heels. My meeting with the event planner had ended earlier than expected, giving me enough time to freshen up before dinner. Adrian wouldn't be home until six, which meant I had nearly three hours to myself.

At least, that was what I thought.

I walked toward the bed and pulled back the duvet. The sheets were slightly rumpled, although I distinctly remembered making the bed before leaving that morning. Adrian had complained that I was wasting time arranging pillows nobody would see, and I'd laughed before kissing him.

Perhaps he'd returned home during the day. It wouldn't have been unusual. His office was only twenty minutes away, and he occasionally came back to collect forgotten documents.

I was reaching for the pillow when something black caught my attention.

At first, I thought it was one of my hair ties. I bent down and pulled it from beneath the bed, only to discover a delicate piece of lace tangled around my fingers.

Women's underwear.

For several seconds, I simply stared at it. The material was expensive, with tiny embroidered flowers along the waistband. There was a small golden butterfly stitched near the edge, an unusual detail that made my chest tighten.

I knew those panties.

Three weeks earlier, Vanessa had dragged me into a lingerie boutique after we finished lunch. She'd spent almost an hour trying on different sets, complaining that everything was either too plain or ridiculously overpriced. Eventually, she found a black lace collection that made her grin like a teenager.

"Now this," she'd announced, waving the underwear in front of me, "is what you wear when you want a man to forget his own name."

I'd laughed so hard that the sales assistant joined us.

Vanessa bought the set despite its outrageous price. When I teased her about spending so much money on underwear, she winked and told me there was someone special she wanted to impress.

Standing in my bedroom now, I remembered that conversation with disturbing clarity.

I turned the underwear over, searching for some difference that would prove I was mistaken. There wasn't one. The same golden butterfly stared back at me, small and unmistakable.

My phone began ringing inside my handbag.

I nearly dropped the lace.

It was Adrian.

"Hello, sweetheart." His voice was warm and familiar, the same voice that had comforted me through my father's funeral and whispered promises against my skin on our wedding night. "Are you still with the planner?"

"No. I'm home."

There was a brief silence.

"Home?" he repeated.

"Yes. The meeting ended early."

Another pause followed, shorter this time. I heard a muffled sound in the background, like a chair scraping against the floor.

"That's good, baby. You should rest before tonight. You've been working too hard lately."

I looked down at the underwear in my hand.

"Adrian, did you come home today?"

"Why?"

It was such a simple question, but something about how quickly he asked made me uneasy.

"The bed looks like someone slept in it."

He laughed. "I stopped by during lunch. Had a headache, so I lay down for a while. Didn't I tell you?"

"No."

"Must have slipped my mind. Anyway, I've got another meeting. I'll see you tonight, okay? Love you."

"I love you too," I answered automatically.

The call ended.

I remained standing beside our bed, wondering why my husband had sounded relieved when I told him I was home alone.

There had to be an explanation. Vanessa visited often, sometimes staying overnight when we watched movies until morning. Maybe she'd changed clothes in the guest room and somehow misplaced the underwear. But the last time she'd slept over was more than a month ago, and I'd changed our bedding several times since then.

I sat on the mattress, suddenly feeling foolish for trying so hard to explain something that should have been impossible.

My phone vibrated again.

This time, it was Vanessa.

Vanessa: Hey, babe! Are you home?

Before I could reply, another message appeared.

Vanessa: Please tell me you're not home yet.

I frowned. Vanessa had never cared what time I returned from meetings. She usually showed up unannounced, helped herself to whatever was in my refrigerator, and complained whenever I didn't have her favorite snacks.

Me: Why?

The typing indicator appeared immediately, disappeared, then appeared again.

Vanessa: Nothing serious. I wanted to surprise you with something.

I stared at her message, then slowly typed my response.

Me: I'm already home.

For nearly a minute, she said nothing.

Then my phone rang.

"Isabella!" Vanessa exclaimed the moment I answered. Her voice was unusually bright. "You're home already?"

"Yes. Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? Of course not. Why would anything be wrong?"

I swallowed. "Vanessa, when was the last time you came to my house?"

She hesitated.

"Last weekend, remember? I brought those cupcakes."

She was right. She had visited briefly, but we'd spent the entire afternoon downstairs. Adrian had supposedly been working in his study.

"Did you go upstairs?"

"What?"

"To my bedroom. Did you go there?"

The silence that followed was long enough for me to hear her breathing.

"Isabella, why are you asking me these strange questions?"

I looked at the black lace lying across my lap.

Before I could answer, I heard a man's voice in the background.

"Vanessa, have you found it?"

My fingers tightened around the phone.

I knew that voice better than my own.

It was Adrian.

And he had just told me he was attending a meeting at his office.

For seven years, I had believed there was no voice in the world I could recognize faster than my husband's. I knew how Adrian sounded when he was angry, when he was exhausted, and when he wanted to charm his way out of an argument. I had listened to that voice whisper promises against my skin, comfort me through my father's funeral, and assure me that no matter what happened, we would always have each other. So when I heard him speaking in the background of Vanessa's phone call, there was no possibility that I had mistaken him for someone else.

"Vanessa, have you found it?"

The silence that followed was almost unbearable. Vanessa had been talking excitedly about surprising me with something, but the moment Adrian spoke, she stopped in the middle of her sentence. I heard hurried footsteps, followed by what sounded like a door closing. When she finally spoke again, her voice had changed.

"Sorry, babe. My cousin is here, and he's driving me crazy looking for his car keys." She laughed nervously, then asked whether I had decided what to wear for dinner.

I stared at the black lace underwear resting on my lap. "Your cousin? That's strange because I could have sworn I heard Adrian's voice."

Vanessa laughed again, louder this time. "Girl, seriously? Why would Adrian be at my apartment when he's supposed to be working? You must be exhausted. Honestly, Isabella, you've been stressing yourself too much lately."

Perhaps she expected me to laugh along with her. Normally, I would have, but nothing about the situation was funny. I had known Vanessa since our university days, and I couldn't remember her ever mentioning a cousin who sounded exactly like my husband. Still, I forced myself to sound amused because something told me that confronting her over the phone would be a mistake.

"You're probably right. Anyway, have you lost anything recently? Maybe something you bought when we went shopping three weeks ago?"

"What?" Her response came so sharply that I almost flinched. After a brief pause, she cleared her throat and said, "No, I don't think so. Why would you ask?"

I looked at the little golden butterfly stitched into the lace. "No reason, Vanessa. I just found something interesting while cleaning." Before she could question me further, I pretended someone was at the door and ended the call.

For several minutes, I remained seated on the edge of our bed, unable to move. The room looked exactly as it had that morning, with our wedding photograph hanging above the dresser and Adrian's expensive watches arranged neatly beside mine. Everything around me represented the beautiful life we had spent seven years building, yet I suddenly felt like a stranger standing in someone else's bedroom.

My phone vibrated shortly before six. Adrian was calling to tell me he would be home soon, and his cheerful voice made my stomach tighten. He asked about my afternoon, reminded me about our dinner reservation, and told me how much he had missed me. I listened carefully, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but he sounded completely normal.

By the time his car pulled into the driveway, I had hidden the underwear inside an envelope at the bottom of my wardrobe. I had also taken several photographs of it, although I wasn't entirely sure why. Perhaps some part of me already understood that I would need proof before either of them admitted anything.

Adrian entered the living room carrying a bouquet of white roses, my favorite flowers. He smiled when he saw me sitting on the sofa and immediately came over to kiss my forehead. "There's my beautiful wife. I was going to take you somewhere special tonight, but you look exhausted. Are you feeling all right?"

I told him I had a headache, and he abandoned our dinner plans without complaining. Instead, he sat beside me, pulled my feet onto his lap, and began massaging them while asking whether I had eaten. His tenderness was so familiar that I nearly started crying. How could someone be this loving and still betray the woman he claimed meant everything to him?

Then he leaned closer, and I smelled it.

Vanilla and jasmine.

It was the same fragrance I had noticed on his pillow earlier that afternoon, the perfume Vanessa had worn for years. My entire body stiffened, and I immediately pulled my feet away from his lap.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Adrian asked, studying my face with genuine concern.

I swallowed before answering. "Did you see Vanessa today?"

He frowned slightly, although the expression disappeared almost immediately. "Vanessa? No, baby. Why would I see her?"

"I called her this afternoon, and I thought I heard your voice in the background. It sounded so much like you that I almost asked whether you were there."

Adrian stared at me for a moment before laughing. He leaned back against the sofa, shaking his head as though I had said something ridiculous. "Isabella, please tell me you're joking. You're not seriously suggesting that I'm sneaking around with your best friend, are you?"

His reaction made me feel foolish, which was exactly what frightened me. Adrian had always possessed an extraordinary ability to make an uncomfortable conversation seem unnecessary. Whenever I questioned something he did, he would patiently explain it until I wondered why I had been concerned in the first place.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," I replied quietly. "I only asked because I thought I recognized your voice."

He reached for my hand and pressed his lips against my knuckles. "Listen to me, sweetheart. I married you because you're the woman I want to spend my life with. Do you honestly believe I'd throw away everything we've built for Vanessa?"

I couldn't answer. His eyes were fixed on mine, and for one desperate moment, I wanted to believe every word. When he leaned forward and kissed me, I allowed it, even though the unfamiliar perfume clinging to his shirt made my skin crawl.

Later that evening, after we'd eaten, Adrian went upstairs to shower. I was clearing the kitchen counter when his phone vibrated beside his car keys. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have looked because we had never made a habit of checking each other's messages. But something about the afternoon had already changed me, and when the screen illuminated, my eyes moved toward it almost instinctively.

The message was from an unsaved number, and the words made my heart pound.

You need to be more careful. She almost caught us today.

I stood frozen, reading the message repeatedly until another appeared beneath it.

Please tell me you found my panties. I can't afford to have Isabella see them.

My fingers tightened around the edge of the counter. There was no longer any room for innocent explanations, yet I still couldn't bring myself to accept what was staring me in the face. Adrian had brought my best friend into our bedroom, and both of them had looked me in the eyes afterward as though nothing had happened.

Then a third message appeared, and the betrayal suddenly became something far more frightening.

Remember what you promised me. Once she signs those papers, you're getting rid of her.

I read the words twice, trying to understand what papers they were discussing and why my signature mattered. Adrian had recently mentioned some documents relating to his company's expansion, but he'd assured me they were routine and promised to explain everything over the weekend.

Before I could think any further, I heard footsteps upstairs. Adrian called my name from the landing, asking whether I had seen his phone. I picked it up, intending to leave it beside the staircase before he came down, but the screen illuminated again.

This time, the message came from Vanessa's saved contact.

Baby, delete our messages. Isabella called me earlier, and I think she's getting suspicious.

"Isabella?"

I looked up to find Adrian standing halfway down the staircase, wearing a towel around his waist. His eyes moved from my face to the phone in my hand, and the affectionate smile he had worn all evening slowly disappeared.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke. I could hear the television playing in the living room, and somewhere outside, a car horn sounded. Adrian took another step down, his gaze remaining fixed on the phone.

"Sweetheart," he said carefully, "why are you holding my phone?"

I opened my mouth, but before I could answer, another message flashed across the screen. This one made the blood drain from my face.

Adrian, your father just called. If Isabella refuses to sign tomorrow, he said we'll have to use the other plan. You know what happened to her father when he became difficult.

I looked up at my husband, suddenly remembering how my father had died.

And as Adrian stared at the message glowing between my fingers, I realized that whatever secret he was keeping might be far worse than an affair.

I had spent most of my life believing that fear announced itself through trembling hands and racing hearts. That night, standing in my kitchen with my husband's phone between my fingers, I discovered that real fear could make a person frighteningly calm. My father had been dead for five years, yet someone had just mentioned his death as though it were a warning.

"Isabella, I asked you a question." Adrian descended the remaining stairs, his expression hardening when I didn't respond. "Why are you holding my phone?"

I looked at him, searching for the man who had held me through countless sleepless nights after my father's funeral. Adrian had helped arrange the burial, handled the paperwork, and promised that he would take care of everything my father had left behind. Now, looking at his face, I wondered whether his kindness had concealed something terrible.

"It was ringing," I answered, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "I thought it might be important."

Adrian approached me and held out his hand. I passed him the phone, watching his eyes move across the screen. For one brief moment, the color drained from his face before he turned the device facedown against his palm.

"Did you read anything?" he asked.

"Was I supposed to?"

His jaw tightened. "That's not what I asked, Isabella."

I forced myself to shrug. "I saw a notification, but I didn't open your messages. Since when do you interrogate me over touching your phone?"

My question appeared to remind him that he was supposed to be the affectionate husband who had brought me roses an hour earlier. He softened his expression and pulled me against his chest, although his embrace felt unusually tight.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I've been dealing with some sensitive business matters, and I can't afford information getting into the wrong hands." He kissed my forehead before adding, "You know I'd never hide anything important from you."

I nodded against his chest, wondering how many lies a person could tell while holding someone they claimed to love. When he finally released me, I told him I was tired and wanted to sleep. He offered to accompany me upstairs, but I insisted he finish his work first.

I waited until I heard his study door close before locking myself inside the bathroom. My reflection looked pale beneath the bright lights, and I gripped the sink to steady myself. I wanted to call someone, but the only person I would ordinarily trust with something this frightening was Vanessa.

The thought made me laugh bitterly.

By morning, I had barely slept. Adrian left before seven, claiming an urgent meeting required his attention. He kissed me goodbye and reminded me that his lawyer would be bringing some documents home the following evening. According to him, they concerned a routine restructuring of the company, and all he needed was my signature.

Under normal circumstances, I would have signed without hesitation.

This time, I smiled and promised to look at them.

At ten o'clock, my doorbell rang. I was halfway through a cup of coffee when the housekeeper announced that Vanessa had arrived. Before I could object, my best friend swept into the living room carrying two shopping bags and wearing the brightest smile I had ever seen.

"There's my favorite girl!" she exclaimed, dropping the bags onto the sofa. "You sounded terrible yesterday, so I brought breakfast. Don't tell me you've already eaten."

I watched her walk into my kitchen as though she owned the place. She wore fitted jeans, a cream blouse, and the diamond bracelet I'd given her for her thirtieth birthday. Everything about her was familiar, yet I struggled to understand how I had missed the dishonesty beneath that cheerful face.

"You didn't have to come," I said, following her.

"Nonsense. What kind of best friend would I be if I couldn't check on you?" She opened a container of pastries and pushed it toward me. "Besides, Adrian mentioned you've been stressed lately."

My stomach tightened. "When did Adrian tell you that?"

Vanessa's hand paused above the container. "Oh, you know how he is. He worries about you, and sometimes he asks me to make sure you're taking care of yourself."

I picked up a pastry without intending to eat it. "That's sweet of him. Did you speak yesterday?"

"Not yesterday, no." She reached for her coffee, avoiding my eyes. "I think it was earlier this week."

I studied her face as she spoke. She had always been a convincing liar when we were younger, especially when we sneaked out of our hostel after curfew. Back then, I considered it an amusing talent. Now, I wondered how many times she had used it against me.

"Vanessa, can I ask you something personal?"

"Of course, babe. You know you can ask me anything."

"That man you told me about at the lingerie boutique. Are you still seeing him?"

Her smile faltered. She quickly recovered, stirring her coffee even though she hadn't added any sugar. "Why are you suddenly interested in my love life?"

"Because you're my best friend, and you've been unusually secretive about him. I thought things were getting serious."

Vanessa laughed softly. "Complicated is more like it. He's involved with someone else, but he keeps promising things will change."

I felt something inside me fracture. She was sitting across from me, discussing her affair with my husband as though I were a stranger offering relationship advice.

"Doesn't that bother you?" I asked. "Knowing another woman is waiting at home for him?"

Vanessa studied me for a moment before answering. "Sometimes relationships end long before people admit it, Isabella. Maybe the woman he's with simply isn't making him happy anymore."

I lowered my eyes to my untouched breakfast. "And you think that makes it acceptable to sleep with someone else's husband?"

Her spoon struck the cup with a sharp sound. Before she could respond, her phone began ringing. She glanced at the screen and immediately turned it over.

I recognized the photograph that briefly illuminated the display.

It was Adrian.

Vanessa stood abruptly, claiming she needed to use the bathroom. I watched her disappear down the hallway, then noticed that she'd left one shopping bag open beside the sofa. Inside was a small velvet jewelry box bearing the name of Adrian's favorite jeweler.

I opened it.

Nestled against black satin was my mother's emerald pendant, the one my father had given me before he died. I had searched for it for months after Adrian claimed it was missing from our safe.

Beneath the necklace lay a folded receipt dated three days earlier.

The purchaser's name was Adrian Bennett.

But it was the handwritten note attached to the receipt that made my breath catch.

For Vanessa. As promised, once Isabella is out of the way, everything that belongs to her will be yours.

I was still staring at the words when Vanessa returned.

She stopped in the doorway, her eyes falling on the open jewelry box. The smile vanished from her face, and for the first time since I'd known her, my best friend looked genuinely terrified.

Then she whispered something that made my blood run cold.

"Isabella, whatever you do, don't let Adrian know you've seen that necklace. His father killed yours over it."