I never imagined I would go to a hotel to catch an affair, only to be assaulted by the mistress’ boyfriend in the hotel. It was a surreal thought as I stood outside the sleek glass façade of the hotel, a lone figure dominated by a tempest of emotions.
When I discovered my husband had a mistress, he was already transferring his assets. I had come to find that his business acumen had developed into something more nefarious; it felt like betrayal layered upon betrayal. As I replayed those moments in my head, my anger was an all-consuming fire, fueled by memories that felt more painful than the present situation.
“Ruthless and ungrateful,” I muttered under my breath, fists clenched. “After everything I did for him?” I recalled the early days, how I had stood by him, a background character in his rise from obscurity to success. My sacrifices had been stealthy but impactful, a web of support spun with dedication and love. But now, he was using my hard-earned money to build a life with another woman. Impossible!
Determined not to let him get away with it, I plotted my next move. The mistress had a boyfriend, a name I had learned through some meticulous digging into my husband’s recent phone records. His name was Edie Affleck, and if anyone could carry my burden of vengeance, it was him.
Pursing my lips, I picked up my phone and texted Edie, fingers trembling with anticipation. “We need to talk. I have something you want.”
When we finally met, the atmosphere crackled with tension. Edie's demeanor was guarded, a mixture of curiosity and wariness playing across his sharp features. "You said you had information," he started, his voice low, scrutinizing me, trying to gauge whether I was an ally or a threat.
I took a deep breath. This was my chance. “I know about your girlfriend. I know she’s with my husband.”
His brow furrowed slightly, then he sank back a little, crossing his arms as I unfolded the details. I shared the photos I had taken—snaps of my husband, Jack, and his mistress, wrapped up in a world where I no longer existed. I also told Edie that I had learned my husband was transferring significant assets to her.
Edie’s silence was deafening, and the muscles in his jaw tightened. “You’re serious?” he finally said, sounding almost incredulous.
“Absolutely,” I replied, my voice steely. “I want to do something about it.”
“Like what?”
A wicked smile danced on my lips as I leaned in closer, whispering my plan of revenge. “I want you to help me confront them. Together, we can make them pay.”
Two days later, I found myself at the hotel again, my heart pounding as I stared at the screen of my phone, waiting for Edie’s text. “Room 302,” it read. My blood boiled. How dare they? How could she flaunt my husband’s infidelity so brazenly?
Upon arriving at the hotel, Edie met me at the door. “They’re next door,” he said quietly, nodding towards Room 301. "Are you ready for this?"
I pressed my ear against the wall, straining to catch any sounds that might confirm my worst fears: laughter, whispers, the kind of intimacy I once shared with Jack that I felt had been so effortlessly stripped away.
“Why can’t I hear anything?” I questioned, frustration bubbling up within me.
Edie, standing a mere breath away, unexpectedly stepped closer. His breath was warm and caught me off guard. "They're probably busy, but you didn't actually think this was going to be easy, did you?"
Before I could react, he leaned in and kissed me—a bold move that sent shockwaves through my body.
“Let go!” I exclaimed, attempting to shove him away, my instincts flaring up with shocked resistance.
But his hands gripped my arms, holding me in place, exhilaration and confusion wrestling inside me. “You’re angry, Anna. That anger can be powerful.”
My stern resistance only made him more reckless, and the next thing I knew, he had bitten my ear—a playful yet utterly unexpected gesture.
“Stop!” I gasped, but it was too late for dismay now; the moment was shrouded in chaos. His lips brushed against my skin, and I shivered, torn between indignation and an unexplainable thrill.
Then, his words grabbed my full attention, twisting my insides into knots. “That woman is pregnant, and she is on bed rest to save the baby!”
My breath hitched, the words spiraling around my brain like a cyclone. “What?” I said, stunned.
He continued, “This is their second child. Three months ago, she talked about buying abortion pills.”
The chilling reality washed over me like cold water. Three months ago, I had also been pregnant, my hopes buoyed by the anticipation of a new beginning. But the moment had shattered when my husband, Jack, had his indifference laid bare during that heartbreaking miscarriage.
“Indifference,” I murmured, the weight of my grief resurfacing as memories flooded in: the empty stare of my husband, the dismissive wave of his hand as I cried silent tears. Suddenly, everything felt like a jigsaw puzzle missing its most vital pieces.
And now, there was a new child, a new life conceived while I had been struggling not just with loss but with the knowledge that my husband would rather be with her. My resolve began to tremble. Why should I remain faithful in the face of this betrayal?
Edie’s presence beside me became comforting, his determination igniting something dormant within me. He leaned in once more, capturing my lips with his as chaos formed a cocoon around us. I didn’t know how it happened, but soon, we were becoming candid with each other, surrendering to the moment in a haze of anger and sorrow.
When he entered me forcefully, a jolt of pain reverberated through my body, mingling with the devastation in my heart. The bed beneath us trembled violently, echoing my internal struggle. How could I give in to this?
In a flash of clarity, I pushed him away, scrambling to dress myself, my heart racing with panic. I couldn’t let my life fall apart any further. “What have we done?” I gasped, fear tightening my chest. I rushed towards the door, desperate for an escape.
But then, fate played its cruel hand. Just as I stepped outside, I collided right into him—my husband, his eyes widening in shock as they locked onto mine. Jack Albertson.
“Anna!” he exclaimed, his voice laced with panic.
In that moment, time slowed. I felt torn between wanting to scream at him and the instinctual urge to hide. The guilt swirling in his eyes sent a wave of sickening recognition through me, yet I was paralyzed.
“What are you doing here?” he stammered, scrambling for an explanation, which I had no intention of providing.
“I’m here to catch an affair,” I replied, bitterness creeping into my voice, my heart hammering wildly in my chest.
His face turned cold, the charming husband façade slipping away. “Stop this nonsense, I’m in the middle of something important!”
The indignation bubbling inside me threatened to overflow—he was still trying to lie! I was about to rail at him, but a soft, sugary voice drifted from the hotel room behind him.
“Honey, aren’t you leaving yet?”
There she was, the mistress, her familiar tones dripping with the false sweetness that always reminded me of honey laced with poison. My blood boiled, fury igniting like a match to gasoline.
I raised my hand and slapped Jack across the face, a calculated act that sent shockwaves through the air. “Jack Albertson, you’re really despicable!”
He didn’t flinch at the blow, but the mistress started to wail, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Why are you still pestering us after receiving the divorce fee?”
Her words echoed in the narrow hallway, igniting anger within me. The audacity! Jack’s face fell, defeat flashing momentarily across his demeanor as if he were regretting the very moment he had chosen her over me.
Divorce? What a beautiful dream he had. In this moment, the protector of false hope, he must have thought I was just going to meekly walk away from everything I had built.
I didn’t want to let Jack go—couldn’t let him go—but I felt a cold dread at the back of my mind. What if Edie suddenly decided to emerge from the room? The carefully orchestrated scheming would come crashing down, unraveling every piece of my plan.
“Anna, please,” Jack said weakly, his voice suddenly vulnerable.
But I stood firm, my resolve strengthening with every heartbeat. “You don’t get to beg for me now, Jack!”
Just smiling through the cracks, behind his mask, I could sense the realization struck him—this was it. “You can’t just walk away,” he snapped, anger flashing as the façade began to crumble.
I could feel the walls of his world tremble with imminent collapse—he thought he had it all under control. But deep down, so did I.
“No, I’m not walking away. Not this time.”
In that split second, I felt as if I was reclaiming my power; the shattered pieces of my heart began to reform, and I realized that everything I had thought I lost was lurking somewhere beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.
Suddenly, this battle wouldn’t just be for vengeance, but for my very essence—the woman I once was, before Jack had swept me into the storm of deceit. Little did they know I was just getting started.
