Trapped by My Husband's Best Friend

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Since we're all here, why don't we put two more suites on the Amex black card for the double points? We can swipe together, Callum drawled, shattering the dead silence.

The air in the luxury hotel corridor turned lethal. The tension was thick enough to choke on.

After six years of marriage, Silas had told me we needed "personal space." He wanted a trial separation to chase that teenage heartbeat again. So, he hooked up with Sydney, the girl I used to mentor.

And I? I booked a room with Callum, his best friend in the world.

Running into them in this hallway definitely wasn't on the itinerary. Silas's face drained of color, his jaw clenching so hard I thought his teeth would shatter.

Three months later, Silas finally cut ties with his little side piece. He called me, practically begging to come home so we could finally have an heir.

Callum was the one who answered my phone. "Sorry, man, but we really can't cut ties over here," Callum laughed lazily into the receiver. "She just got pregnant a few hours ago."

Chapter 1

I called Silas in the middle of the night. "Are you coming home tonight?"

"Didn't we agree on a three-month separation?"

"Right."

"You're not upset, are you? The therapist suggested this space. Our marriage hit a roadblock, and we need to follow professional advice."

"Just stick it out a little longer. It's for our own good, okay?"

"Okay. So where are you tonight?"

"I'm out celebrating my buddy's birthday. Callum. You know him."

My fingers tightened into a white-knuckled grip around my phone. He completely forgot today was my birthday, too.

"Goodnight. Go to bed early, baby."

"Goodnight."

I ended the call and stared blankly at the dark screen.

The man next to me finally lost his patience. His fingers dug lightly into the curve of my waist.

"Are we still doing this, Stella?"

I snapped back to reality, dropping my gaze to the guy pinned beneath me. "Is it your birthday today?" I asked him.

His dress shirt was rumpled and half unbuttoned. I had already shoved his pants halfway down his thighs. A faint flush spread across his cheekbones. The visual of it sent a spike of guilt straight through my ribs.

Callum stared at me for a beat, letting out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Yeah. It's my birthday."

"I recall you celebrating a birthday six months ago."

"Your husband just loves me that much. He insists on throwing me two a year. What can I say?"

A dead silence settled over the bed.

Silas clearly forgot he had already pulled the "Callum's birthday" card six months ago, the last time we got into a massive fight and he disappeared for the entire night.

Callum pushed himself up on his elbows. He lit a cigarette, taking a drag before shooting a pointed look down at his lap. "So. What's the verdict?"

"I ordered room service."

"I don't know the rules for this ultra-luxury penthouse," Callum drawled, "but the room service guy who rolled the champagne cart in earlier didn't ask me to take my pants off, Stella."

He grabbed his pants and started pulling them back up, the movements jerky with irritation.

Right as he fastened his belt, a discreet knock sounded at the door. I opened it, grabbed the delivery, and brought it back into the room.

"Is this the room service you ordered?"

I stared blankly at the small black velvet box resting on the silver tray. Catching sight of the "ultra-thin ribbed" label printed on the side still made a muscle twitch in my jaw. "Are we consuming this?" I asked.

"Fuck," Callum muttered. "I guess I do need to take my pants off for this kind of room service."

He tossed his cigarette aside. In one fluid motion, he hooked an arm around my waist, hoisted me up against his chest, and kicked the bedroom door shut behind us.

It was a stark contrast to the sloppy, drunk persona he had been playing all night.

Our mouths collided. He backed me up against the plush velvet sofa, dropped down, and pulled me squarely onto his lap. His face buried into the curve of my neck, his lips searing the hollow of my collarbone.

"Did he kiss you here, too?" he murmured against my skin.

"Who?"

"Him."

"Probably."

I had downed a lot of alcohol tonight. Sober, I would have never possessed the reckless nerve to pull a stunt like this. I didn't know which specific word set him off.

The soft, teasing rhythm of his mouth instantly sharpened. His teeth caught my lower lip, biting down hard enough to leave a sting.

A soft gasp punched out of my throat.

Callum let out a low, raspy chuckle right by my ear. "Stella. I haven't even started yet. You falling apart on me already?"

The friction of his words made my ears burn.

That was exactly when his phone lit up on the cushions. The screen flashed a single name: Silas.

The air vanished from my lungs. My pulse hammered against my ribs.

Callum kept one heavy hand anchored to my waist while his other reached for the vibrating phone.

"Don't pick it up." I lunged for the device to hit decline. My shaking finger grazed the screen.

The call connected.

Callum looked down at me, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Stella. You play dirty. Is this what gets you off?"

"No."

He completely ignored my denial. He tapped the speaker icon and tossed the phone onto the cushion right next to my hip.

"Callum. I need a favor, man." Silass voice echoed through the suite.

"Yeah?" Callum drawled.

My teeth sank so deep into my lower lip I tasted copper. I didn't dare breathe.

"If Stella calls you, just tell her I'm with you."

Any lingering, pathetic shred of hope I was harboring turned to ash in my throat.

"Oh?" Callum dragged the syllable out, his tone dripping with lazy sarcasm. "Playing around again? Aren't you worried she's going to file for divorce?"

"Ugh, don't even start. The girl is clinging to me, demanding round two. Stella won't dare divorce me. She's more obedient than a golden retriever."

"What about you, man? It's your birthday. Didn't you bring a girl back to a hotel?"

"Me?" Callum locked his dark eyes on mine, a predatory smirk curving his lips. He forcefully thrust up against me. "She's eavesdropping right now."

Chapter 2

I didn't expect him to pull a move like that. My body jolted, nearly slipping right off his lap, and a sharp gasp tore from my throat.

On the other end of the line, Silas let out a knowing groan. "Fuck, man. My bad. I won't interrupt."

"Yeah." Callum hit end. His dark eyes locked onto mine, dilated and heavy. "Stella, you're hurting me."

"What? Where?"

"Everywhere. If you don't kiss me right now, I'm going to feel like I'm just a pawn in your little marital game."

I hated how easily his little act worked. "Of course you're not." I leaned down and captured his lips.

"No? Then you're going to divorce him, right?"

I didn't answer. The playful heat in his eyes vanished. I couldn't comprehend where this sudden burst of possessiveness was coming from. Tonight was purely an act of vengeance for me.

To him, I was just another body in a long line of rich-kid flings. We were both getting exactly what we needed. Anything beyond that was crossing a dangerous line.

"No answer? Then there's no round two."

"Don't" I hissed, trying to push myself up, but his large hands clamped onto my hips, forcefully pinning me back down against his thighs.

My senses redlined.

The friction, the sharp sting of reality, the sheer gravity of what I was doingit all crashed into me at once. The air thinned in my lungs. My vision blurred as hot tears spilled over my eyelashes.

Callum froze. "Shit. Sorry. I lost control for a second. Did I hurt you?"

"I need to go."

"You're just going to sleep with me and run? What about me?"

"You're a grown man. You can sleep in a hotel bed by yourself."

"Wow. Okay you're unbelievable."

I scrambled to gather my clothes, shoving my arms into my sleeves, and practically fled the luxury suite.

Silas finally came home on Saturday morning. He picked me up to head over to his parents' estate for lunch. He was in a suspiciously fantastic mood the entire drive. The Spotify playlist he hadn't updated in years was suddenly blasting the latest Top 40 hits.

"Since when do you listen to this?"

His fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the leather steering wheel. "My assistant probably updated the synced account." He quickly tapped the dashboard screen, switching it back to the old, familiar jazz tracks we used to listen to.

"So, why the sudden urge to have me come home on Wednesday? Missed me?"

"Something like that."

He still hadn't remembered. Wednesday was my birthday.

"See? I told you this separation was a good idea. Before, we couldn't even sit in the same room without suffocating in silence."

A bitter, mechanical smile stretched across my face.

We pulled up to the family estate. The moment we stepped onto the sweeping front porch, the high-pitched, saccharine sound of a girl's laugh drifted out, followed by the booming laughter of his grandfather.

"Silas!" A girl in a designer sundress practically skipped out onto the patio, launching herself right into his personal space. Her eyes were locked onto him. I might as well have been a ghost standing next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Silas furrowed his brow, his gaze instinctively darting sideways to gauge my reaction.

I let my eyes sweep over the girl. So this was her. The reason he was suddenly so eager to separate. The reason he was humming pop songs in his luxury SUV.

I had to admitshe was undeniably stunning. Fresh, vibrant, and bursting with youth.

"Grandma said you guys were throwing a backyard BBQ party today. I smelled the ribs grilling and just had to come over!"

She rambled excitedly for a few seconds before finally pretending to notice me. "Oh! You must be Stella, right?"

"Show some respect," Silas warned her lightly.

"But Mrs. Vance makes her sound so old! I'd rather just call her Stella. We're practically the same age anyway."

Sydney. 24 years old. The granddaughter of Silas's grandfather's old business partner. Freshly graduated from an Ivy League and immediately handed a cushy job at Silas's firm.

Mathematically, she was only four years younger than me. But standing next to her, I felt like I had aged a decade.

While I was out on the terrace helping toss the salad, Sydney kept hovering around my elbow with a glass of champagne, pretending to be absolutely fascinated by the diamond ring on my finger.

"Can you stop bothering Stella?" Silas snapped, clearly on edge about her being in such close proximity to me.

"If I can't bother Stella, does that mean I get to go bother you, boss?" she teased, her voice dripping with fake innocence.

"Get lost."

"No way. I like hanging out with her. We're bonding." She practically leaned her shoulder into mine.

Their little bantering routine was so perfectly synchronized, it belonged on a CW teen drama.

"Stella, you're so chill. How do you even put up with Silas? He's such a control freak. His temper is the worst."

"He's fine," I replied mechanically.

"Fine, my ass! I made one tiny typo on a pitch deck, and he dragged me into his private office just to yell at me. He even tapped my knuckles with his pen! You really need to keep your husband on a tighter leash."

Chapter 3

The audacity of the information dump left me mute.

My mind drifted back to how Silas and I first met. It was during an Ivy League business simulation project. I had messed up his core data set, and he relentlessly grilled me in front of the entire cohort for half a month. He was rigid, ruthless, and pushed me until my eyes welled up.

But the second that first tear fell, his rigid posture fractured. After that, he never raised his voice at me again.

Everyone in our class used to joke that I had the campus ice king wrapped around my finger. Around me, he was a completely different person. He really did love me back then. But people change.

"Stella, are you and Silas still not planning on starting a family?" his grandmother asked. It was the mandatory interrogation point of every weekend visit.

"We're prepping for it. Sometime this year," Silas answered smoothly.

Crash. A porcelain serving dish shattered across the hardwood floor.

Sydney dropped to her knees, her finger grazed by a sharp edge.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I dropped the plate."

"Oh dear, you're bleeding! Don't worry about the china," his grandmother fussed. "Silas, take her upstairs and get that bandaged right now."

Just like that, the pregnancy conversation was cleanly assassinated. Sydney practically skipped up the grand staircase, trailing right behind Silas.

His grandmother leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You need to be honest with me, Stella. Is Silas having performance issues? How else could you two be married for six years with no heir to show for it?"

My breath caught. I genuinely had no idea if his equipment worked. He hadn't touched me in over two years.

But judging by his phone call the other nightbragging about needing "round two"the hardware was fully operational. If there was a problem, it was strictly a me problem. He once told me I felt like family to him now. And stripping your family naked felt like a sin.

"No issues there," I replied flatly.

"Thank goodness. You know I'm just dying to hold my great-grandson!"

The family luncheon finally concluded. Silas was driving me back to our townhouse. But Sydney had already claimed the shotgun seat.

"Stella, my lipstick smudged. You don't mind if I use the vanity mirror up here, do you?"

I stood frozen by the passenger door, running the timeline in my head. Her lipstick had already been "smudged" when she came back downstairs from Silas's childhood bedroom. I watched her reapply it right in front of me thirty minutes ago.

"What brand is that? It fades awfully fast. I need to make sure I never buy it." I stood there, patiently waiting for her to finish her little performance.

"Get in the back." Silas's patience snapped. He aimed a dark look at her.

"Always barking orders. Fine, I'm moving." She pouted. "Look at him, Stella."

"Take it easy on her," I said deadpan. "You're going to make her cry."

Sydney begrudgingly slid into the back seat.

For the rest of the drive, Silas was uncharacteristically chatty. He kept asking where I had been these past few days, what I had eaten, where I wanted to go for our next vacation. To an outsider, it looked like the meticulous care of a devoted husband. Every time Sydney tried to interject from the back, Silas shut her down with a sharp glare.

I sat quietly in the passenger seat, absorbing his sudden surge of attention. But my chest felt hollow. Did he actually love me? Everything blurred out of focus.

Honestly, my head was just looping the filth Callum had been whispering in my ear the other night. It was my first time realizing that every polite, familial title in the English language could be weaponized in bed. It was a busy night. No wonder his exes kept coming back for more, maintaining his flawless five-star rating.

Callum really was on another level.

"Where did you go? Did you hear a word I just said?" Silass voice dragged me back to reality.

"Oh. What?" I blinked, registering our surroundings as the car idled in front of my place. "You aren't coming inside?"

"I have a board meeting this afternoon."

"I'm pretty sure your schedule is clear today," the words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Silas went rigid.

"Are we really doing this again? You're monitoring my movements?" He pressed the heels of his hands hard against the steering wheel. "Didn't the therapist specifically tell you to let it go? To stop checking up on me and focus on your own life?"

"You bullied my assistant into sending you my itinerary again, didn't you? What am I supposed to do with you?"

I sat frozen. In the rearview mirror, I could see Sydney shrinking back into the leather seats, finally too intimidated to interrupt our crossfire.

"I didn't," I heard my own voice say, mechanical and distant. "Your assistant sent me the monthly overview on the first. I deleted it. But I just have a good memory."

I honestly didn't know how I had mutated into this pathetic version of myself. Over the past two years, I had turned into a walking bundle of paranoia and shattered nerves.

Chapter 4

Every month, I'd force his assistant to send me his itinerary. If he didn't pick up my calls and it wasn't a scheduled meeting block, I would blow up his phone. Then came the endless, screaming arguments.

After the dust settled, the reality of my behavior would hit me. I'd drown in regret, apologizing profusely, practically begging him to make up.

After starting therapy, the doctor told me to stop monitoring him. No checking schedules, no snooping through his phone. I tried to restrain myself. I deleted his calendar.

I forced myself not to call, not to text, not to look at his screen. But then he would just vanish for days on end, and it was driving me completely insane.

"This board meeting was just scheduled last night. Of course you didn't know," Silas said smoothly. "Alright, go inside and get some rest. After I wrap up at the office, I'll come back and take you to that concert."

"Okay."

Feeling like a complete joke in front of his little audience in the back seat, I hurried out of the car and offered a stiff wave goodbye. I had just reached the elevator banks in the lobby when I pulled out my phone and saw a new notification light up the screen.

[You're so annoying. Why didn't you wear anything last night? Go buy me the pill.]

I stared at the message for a solid minute before it fully registered. This wasn't my phone. It was Silas's. A cold numbness spread directly from my chest down to my fingertips.

Silas jogged back into the lobby a few minutes later to retrieve his device. "Why do you look so pale? Are you sick?"

His relaxed posture made it clear he was confident I hadn't seen anything. He obviously didn't realize I could read a fresh text right off the illuminated lock screen.

"Probably just low blood sugar."

He didn't suspect a thing. I had barely walked through my front door when a delivery arrivedelectrolytes, painkillers, and a huge assortment of expensive organic herbal teas, all sent by his assistant. It was a miracle he remembered after all these years that I couldn't stomach black coffee.

Sitting alone in the empty house, I pulled out my own phone and tapped on Callum's contact. His profile picture was pitch blackfitting, since I only ever seemed to see him under the cover of night. I hesitated for a long time before finally sending a text.

[Are you awake yet?]

[The screen flashed a harsh red "Not Delivered" under my message. Okay. He had blocked me.]

Fuck. Was I really that repulsive? Silas refused to touch me. I sleep with a younger guy, and he blocks my number the very next morning?

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I requested to be unblocked and added him back.

Callum accepted within a single second.

[?]

[Are you awake yet?]

[? It's been three days. If I wasn't awake by now, I'd be in a pine box.]

The conversation flatlined immediately. I had no idea what to type next.

[You add me back just to give me the silent treatment?]

[Why did you block me?]

[Preventative measures. Can't let a bad girl play me twice.]

Oh. Well. That shut me up.

[Oh. So what are you doing right now?]

[Street racing.]

[Can I come find you?]

[Don't.]

[Oh.]

[Why do you even want to come here? Aren't you refusing to get a divorce?]

I honestly didn't know what I was doing. I just needed to do something. Anything to take the edge off this suffocating anxiety. Anything to stop picturing Silas and Sydney in his private office, wondering exactly how many times her lipstick needed "reapplying."

[Cat got your tongue?]

[You're making things really difficult for me, Stella. Silas is my best friend. We grew up together. If he finds out, I'm a dead man.]

[Plus, the guy is loaded and decent-looking. Why do you two insist on torturing me?]

[But you're hotter than him.]

[A location pin instantly popped up on my screen.]

[You're so annoying. Get over here.]

[But we're strictly just talking.]

[Deal.]

I slipped into a dangerously short, skin-tight slip dress, called an Uber, and headed out. Halfway up the winding mountain roads, the freezing wind whipping through the cracked window violently snapped me back to reality. I was already regretting this.

If those rich trust-fund kids recognized me as the "best friend's wife," Callum's entire social circle would explode tonight. My reputation would be burned to the ground.

I agonizingly debated telling the driver to turn around, but before I could pull the trigger, we pulled up to the location. I figured since I was already here, I'd just say hi and immediately dip.

But as someone pointed me toward Callum's spot, I saw a massive, chaotic crowd swarming the area. It looked like a full-blown brawl had just broken out.

Chapter 5

"Callum. Your girl is here."

The moment the words dropped, the chaotic energy in the area flatlined into silence.

"You look busy. I'll just go." I scrambled for any excuse to bolt.

Callum pushed himself up from the center of the crowd. He locked eyes with me, his expression immediately shifting into an exaggerated, pitiful pout.

"Stella. I got jumped. It hurts right here." He pointed a finger at his knuckles.

That was when the visual finally registered. His knuckles and the sharp cut of his cheekbone were heavily smeared with fresh blood. What the hell was going on?

"Back off! I'm calling the cops." I stepped squarely in front of Callum, throwing a hand up to block the other racers.

The entire group stared at me in stunned silence.

"Don't." Callum reached out, wrapping his large hand over my phone to lower it. "No cops."

"They're clearly not going to listen to reason. We're leaving," I insisted.

The crowd stared in muted disbelief.

"Holy shit. Give the man an Oscar."

"Unbelievable."

Callum shot a lethal glare over my shoulder. The peanut gallery instantly shut their mouths.

I dragged him back to a luxury hotel suite and started cleaning him up with a first-aid kit. His dark, heavy gaze stayed pinned to my face the entire time, making the fine hairs on my arms stand up.

"What are you staring at?"

"Just wondering how someone so jumpy had the nerve to step in front of me tonight. You weren't scared of them?"

"Of course I was. But I couldn't exactly just leave you there bleeding."

"Oh? Does my Stella feel bad for me?"

"Not really, it's just"

"Kiss me, Stella."

I paused, the iodine swab hovering in the air. "I thought we were strictly just talking."

"We can talk in bed."

He kissed me. Hard. I kissed him back, entirely matching his reckless, frantic energy. We ended up smearing half the lipsticks in my purse across his skin.

I didn't recognize the reckless woman I was becoming.

"How does the lipstick taste?" I breathed against his jaw.

"Spicy as hell. It's killing me, Stella," he rasped.

He completely ignored his bruised ribs. He just kept pressing me into the mattress, demanding over and over, "Does it feel good? If it feels good, you're strictly forbidden from going back to him."

"Okay."

Younger guys really did have insane stamina. Bruised, bloodied, and he still managed to keep going until well past midnight. Naturally, I completely overslept.

When my eyes finally snapped open, the digital clock on the nightstand glared 6:00 AM. I unlocked my phone to a solid wall of notifications. Dozens of missed calls. All from Silas.

He had called me more times tonight than he had in an entire year.

Callum was still dead asleep. Or so I thought. The second the heavy hotel door clicked shut behind me, the sharp shatter of a phone exploding against drywall echoed from inside the room.

I grabbed an Uber back to the townhouse.

The second I kicked off my heels in the entryway, I froze. Silas was sitting in the dark, leaning back against the living room sofa. At the sound of the door, his eyes slowly opened.

"Where were you last night?"

For the first time in years, my pulse spiked.

"Out on a date," I tossed back, aiming for a half-joking tone.

His expression went dead serious. "Who could you possibly go on a date with? Look, I admit work has been crazy lately. I've neglected you."

"But you don't have to lie just to try and piss me off."

I didn't say a word. Oh, he was definitely busy. Busy going for "round two" with his little intern.

"I checked with April," Silas continued smoothly. "She said you crashed at her place. Next time you guys do a late-night movie marathon, don't stay over."

"She lives with her boyfriend now. It's inappropriate for you to crash there."

My hand tightened around my purse strap. April was my best friend. Whenever Silas and I got into a blowout argument, her apartment was my designated safe house. I just didn't expect Silas to actually check up on me.

And I definitely didn't expect April to flawlessly cover my tracks without even knowing where I actually was.

Part of me almost wished he had caught me. It would force the ugly truth out into the light, shatter the facade, and finally end this suffocating charade. But letting him off the hook that easily felt too cheap.

He gets bored, runs off to play with a fresh twenty-four-year-old, and I'm just supposed to quietly step aside so he can live happily ever after?

Divorce? Not a chance in hell. I was going to stay right here and drag him down into the misery with me.

"Did you come straight here from the hotel this morning? You're up early," I said casually.

"The hotel? What are you talking about?" His posture instantly stiffened.

"Sorry, slip of the tongue. I meant the office."

"Yeah."

"I just don't get it. You're the CEO. Why are you constantly pulling all-nighters like a junior analyst?" I smiled at him, all teeth.

"Martha told me you haven't been back to your place for several nights this month. I assumed you were just practically living at the office."

Silas and I were officially separated. He had moved into a luxury condo downtown, closer to his corporate headquarters. Paralyzed by the thought of him not taking care of himself, I had personally hired Martha to keep the place running, and I still regularly dropped off his favorite meals and dry cleaning.

Chapter 6

Every time I dropped by the condo, Martha would casually let his whereabouts slip over small talk.

"You're monitoring me again? Stella, didn't we agree to stop this?"

"I didn't ask. I dropped off some things, and Martha brought it up herself."

His jaw tightened, a cold shadow crossing his face. "You know what? The more you pull this neurotic crap, the less interested I am. What man can get hard for an unreasonable psycho?"

I stood frozen, the air knocked cleanly out of my lungs.

"So who do you get hard for? Little interns?"

He froze, the muscles in his neck snapping taut. "What kind of nonsense are you spouting?" He pulled out a pair of glossy VIP tickets, slapping them lightly against his palm. "I waited for you all night at the venue yesterday. Your phone was completely off."

"I had someone pull strings to get passes for tonight's show. You're being ridiculous."

"Thanks."

"I was planning to take you, but I have a business dinner tonight."

"Fine."

He was lying. He was dressed in a casual designer polo, explicitly styled to go to a concert with me. The sudden cancellation? He was pissed that Martha had leaked his schedule.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes after he walked out the door, Martha called to tell me she had been fired.

Sitting alone in the empty house, I stared blankly at the tickets. Finally, I snapped a picture and sent it to April.

[Concert tonight. You in?]

[Christ!!! Nice of you to finally text me. Where the hell were you last night? You almost gave me a heart attack.]

April and I ended up going to the concert. She spent the first twenty minutes telling me I was clinically insane for pulling an unannounced disappearing act. When Silas had called her, her heart practically leaped out of her throat, terrified she'd slip up and blow my cover.

"Who were you actually with last night?" she demanded over the roaring bass.

"Callum."

"Callum? Holy shit. Silas's playboy best friend?" April stared at me like I had lost my mind. Why on earth would I provoke a guy like Callum? "Is Silas messing around again?"

"Yeah."

"Which number is this one?"

"I lost track."

April let out a heavy sigh. "No wonder you've snapped."

"You tell me he doesn't love me anymore, but then he suffocates me with care. Every time he flies out for business, he brings back these insanely expensive gifts. The second I get a migraine, he panics and immediately dispatches his private concierge doctor to the house."

"Aside from my parents, no one treats me like such a queen when it comes to material luxury and health. But he refuses to touch me, and goes off to sleep with a twenty-four-year-old. Why?"

"Because he cares about you so much, he's scared of hurting you," April scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I'm being sarcastic. Do you actually believe that cheater's bullshit? How long has it been since he touched you?"

"Over two years. I can't even remember."

"Jesus. And you still aren't planning to file for divorce?"

"I'm not leaving. I refuse to be the loser in this. Why should I make it easy for him?"

We had been together since freshman year. A whole decade. The day we graduated, he got down on one knee on the campus lawn, voice shaking, telling me I was his angel. That memory felt like it happened yesterday. So how did I suddenly become an unreasonable psycho?

"Maybe you should sit down and have a real talk with him."

"He says he's too busy."

"No one is too busy to carve out an hour. And listen, stay the hell away from Callum. His family is deeply tied to both old money and the underground. They're terrifying. They could make any of his little flings disappear without a trace."

"I know."

I couldn't focus on the concert at all. The deafening music just became background noise to my racing thoughts. I pulled out my phone, fully intending to delete Callum's contact. Though, knowing him, he had probably already blocked me again.

I tentatively tapped his profile icon to double-tap a message. It went through.

[What?]

[Mistap.]

[Bored? Suddenly remembered your favorite toy? Well, the toy is booked today. Not happening.]

So arrogant. I wasn't even trying to hook up with him.

[Fine. Should we just block each other then?]

[]

[I'm legitimately busy today. Also, do you know that being this constantly thirsty is bad for your health?]

[Had no idea. Bye then?]

[Bye my ass. What the hell are you doing right now?]

[At a concert.]

[Then wait right there. Unbelievable.]

I had no idea what he wanted me to wait for. Probably for him to hit the block button? Whatever.

Chapter 7

I blocked him back. He was a notorious playboy. He wasn't a good guy, and I was no saint either. It was perfectwe both got exactly what we needed. A clean cut. No baggage.

After a moment of hesitation, I sent Silas a text.

[Can you come home tonight? We need to talk.]

Whether it was divorce or just officially living separate lives, I needed an exit strategy. I couldn't keep suffocating like this.

[Alright. I'll come pick you up.]

After the concert, I stood at the intersection waiting for Silas. Just as I spotted his SUV pulling up to the curb, my phone buzzed.

"Stella. Turn around."

I whipped around. Callum was idling on a matte-black Ducati just a few yards away, backlit by the harsh streetlights. He killed the engine and walked toward me, a lazy smirk on his face. Didn't we just block each other? Why the hell was he adding me back?

He reached out, his hand aiming for my hair. My stomach dropped. I violently flinched back.

Silass SUV had just braked sharply right in front of me. Callums smirk froze. The tinted passenger window rolled down smoothly, revealing Silas staring dead at him.

"What are you doing here?" Silas demanded.

Callum ignored him. His dark eyes locked entirely on me.

"He he's here to pick me up." April, standing next to me frozen, finally jumped on the grenade.

"How do you two even know each other?" Silas furrowed his brow, his gaze darting between them.

"Mutual friends," April blurted out.

Throughout the entire agonizing exchange, Callum didn't utter a single syllable. His eyes never left my face.

I slid into the passenger seat of Silas's car. Through the side mirror, I watched Callum strike a lighter. He stood there, enveloped in smoke, long after we drove away.

"What are you looking at?" Silas asked.

"Nothing."

"Tell April to keep her distance from Callum. She has a boyfriend. Besides, Callum is a sick bastard. Lately, hes been messing around with a married woman."

"A married woman?"

"Yeah. Told me he's obsessed with some woman who's married but on the verge of divorce. Asked me for advice."

"Oh?" A cold tremor shot down my spine. My fingers clamped tightly onto my purse. "What did you tell him?"

"What could I say? Told him not to get scammed and to make sure the husband doesn't catch them. He plays around too much. This is just karma catching up to him."

My pulse pounded in my throat. I had never bothered checking Callum's Instagram stories. I never had a reason to. But hearing Silas say that, I quietly accepted Callum's friend request under the dashboard and pulled up his profile.

His latest post was uploaded exactly five minutes ago.

[I can get played by three different women, but I refuse to let the same woman play me three times.]

Right beneath it was a comment from Silas: [Karma's a bitch, man. Lmao.]

I was still staring at the screen when a hand suddenly reached over, grabbing for my phone. Panic seized my muscles. I yanked the device out of his reach.

"I just need to use your navigation," Silas said, pulling his hand back in surprise. "There's a pile-up ahead from the rain." He stared at me, his eyes narrowing. "You're acting like you're hiding state secrets in there."

"Didn't you say we needed to respect each other's privacy? I'll type it in." My knuckles were white as I quietly blocked Callum again, forcing my hands to steady before finally pulling up the GPS map.

Sitting perfectly still in the leather seat, a sharp realization hit me. Was this exactly how Silas felt every time I reached for his phone? The paralyzing panic? The cold sweat dripping down his spine? Knowing that even if you deleted the evidence, handing over the device still felt like walking to the gallows?

We never ended up having that talk. Halfway home, his phone rang. He dropped me off at the townhouse and immediately kept the engine running.

"I'll be right back."

"Okay."

His "right back" translated to walking through the front door at five in the morning.

I had spent the entire night curled up on the sofa. The click of the deadbolt woke me. He loosened his tie, looked down at me, and asked what it was I wanted to talk about last night.

"I forgot," I replied.

I hadn't forgotten. But the window had closed. There was simply no point anymore. He didn't press the issue. He just showered, changed, and went straight back to the office.

I laid alone in the painfully quiet house. My phone buzzed with texts from April.

[Callum is out of his goddamn mind. He's blowing up my phone asking when you're finally getting a divorce.]

[Soon, probably.]

[Is that really the point here? The point is the guy is a psycho! What does he want? To wreck a home?]

[Can't really wreck something that's already rotting from the inside.]

Chapter 8

The weekend rolled around again, which meant another mandatory visit to the Vance family estate.

Silas picked me up early, as usual. I didn't expect the house to be so packed. When I saw Sydney, I managed to keep my composure. But when my eyes landed on Callum, my brain practically short-circuited.

"What are you doing here?" Silas and I demanded at the exact same time.

"You two really are a married couple. Am I that unwelcome?" Callum leaned against the doorway, smirking.

Silas shot me a weird look. The air in the room turned to concrete.

"I'm obviously here to see you."

My heart leaped into my throat. But Callum smoothly clapped a hand onto Silas's shoulder, making it clear the comment was directed at him.

"I'm a grown man. Go entertain yourself," Silas brushed him off.

"Oh? We're brothers. Just checking in. Did you get that mess from the other night sorted out?"

Silas shot him a lethal glare, a silent warning to keep his mouth shut.

Callum just blinked, the picture of innocence. "Stella, he's being mean to me."

"Stop calling her that. Call her Mrs. Vance," Silas rubbed his temples, already looking exhausted.

"Right. Mrs. Vance," Callum flashed me a wicked grin. "I don't think I have your number, Mrs. Vance."

"Leave her alone. She's not giving you her number," Silas snapped.

"Noted."

The second Silas stepped away to greet his uncle, Callum leaned in. His breath brushed my ear. "Does he know we've bruised each other's lips in private, Mrs. Vance?"

"You"

"You blocked me again," he whispered, a mock pout in his voice. "Waking up to a blocked number? Truly devastating, Stella."

Goosebumps erupted down my arms. I had no idea what sick game he was playing.

Once we were seated for dinner, his real reason for being here became painfully obvious. It turned out the patriarch of the Vance familythe man who controlled the massive family trust fundwas trying to arrange a commercial marriage between Sydney and Callum. He used this family dinner as a front to push them together. He even expected Silas and me to play wingmen.

Black spots danced at the edges of my vision.

"They they're a great match." It was the only lie I could force through my teeth.

"Forget it. If it's Callum, absolutely not. I'll introduce Sydney to someone else later," Silas objected, his voice tight.

"And exactly who are you going to introduce me to, Silas?" Sydney challenged him right across the dining table. Her voice trembled, thick with unshed tears.

It hit me instantly: they had gotten into a massive fight. Oh, this is going to be a spectacular trainwreck.

"There are plenty of single guys at the firm."

"Does he have to be single?" Sydney fired back.

The absolute audacity of that sentence caused the patriarch to pause, adjusting his reading glasses to hide the sheer awkwardness rippling across the mahogany table.

"Don't just watch the drama, Stella. Eat," Callum murmured right beside me. He smoothly slid a small porcelain plate toward my hand.

"Callum, what the hell are you doing?" Silas demanded. He was actively arguing with Sydney, yet his radar still picked up on Callum's every move.

Callum leaned back casually. "I just meticulously picked the meat out of this imported blue lobster claw before I remembered I'm strictly allergic to seafood. Can't let it go to waste."

"You don't mind taking it off my hands, right, Stella? Don't worry, I used the dedicated silver cutlery."

A cold sweat broke out on my neck. He was out of his mind.

"Thanks."

Right as I reached for my fork, Silas leaned over, snatched the lobster meat, and swallowed it whole.

"Aren't you allergic, too?" Callum smirked.

"Back off and behave yourself," Silas warned, his patience completely shredded.

Callum just shrugged, dropping the subject.

The elders were still aggressively pushing Sydney and Callum to "get to know each other." They were from the exact same elite circle; a merger made perfect financial sense.

"Honestly, Grandpa, there's already someone I'm in love with," Sydney rejected the idea softly.

"And frankly, she isn't my type anyway," Callum shot it down even faster.

"Then what exactly is your type, boy?" the patriarch demanded.

Callum's dark eyes slid directly to me.

The moment his gaze locked onto mine, raw panic seized my chest