Page 32 of Xander

Perhaps Xander had succumbed to a moment of alcohol-induced confusion. It was also likely his emotions were running high. How could he not be resentful? Relegated to his childhood bedroom like a misbehaving child, openly scorned by his father at every turn.

Everyone here walked a tightrope because any slip up left you on the receiving end of Henry’s wrath. Being happy with someone breathing down your neck and discounting your every action was difficult. And when people lived inside a pressure cooker, the stifled emotions were bound to explode.

What happened was a mistake, I decided, taking another long sip of the champagne and swapping out the empty flute for a filled one. Alcohol swam in my veins by the third glass.

Christ. I needed to shove the dirty secret deep inside me and focus on my marriage instead. Henry was my future. This was the perfect night to celebrate my renewed hope for a family, except where was my family? Where was Henry?

Finally—I caught a glimpse of his midnight blue suit. Italian-cut because of how it minimized the shoulders and made everything streamlined. He was migrating toward our grandiose corridor.

I had the staff build a champagne tower in that hallway because guests liked to take Instagram-worthy photos there. Paintings adorned both sides of the opulent walls, along with rich tapestries and gilded mirrors. The polished marble tiles and soft rugs added to the allure, though everyone had filtered out when I entered the empty corridor.

Henry was at the far end of the hallway. Relieved, I moved toward him… and then froze.

He wasn’t alone. He was with someone by the champagne tower, though I couldn’t see the other person without rounding the corner.

It felt as if I were being propelled by forces beyond my control to take the plunge and bear witness to the scene under the soft lights flooding the space.

Standing beside him was a slender brunette in her early twenties, wearing a sheer dress that left very little to the imagination. My husband’s hand was on her shoulder, toying possessively with the strap of her dress. I recognized the gesture; it was the same casual, fidgety way that he played with the wristband of his Rolex whenever he was bored.

He’s touched her like this before, I thought, feeling sick.

“—I can’t wait to take this off you later,” he murmured. “I was thinking I’d save a bottle of champagne to take to the office, maybe tonight. I could do shots of Dom off these big, perfect tits while you⁠—”

The blood in my veins froze. I cleared my throat. Henry and the brunette jumped simultaneously, her big, perfect tits jumping with them.

“Jordan!?” Henry quickly recovered. “This is my wife,” he said to the brunette, who hadn’t lost that doe-eyed look of shock. “I thought you were seeing to the guests, babe,” he said to me. He never sweet-talked unless he had fucked up.

I stood there, staring at my husband with another woman, my nails digging into my skin.

I should be devastated. After all I had done to gain my husband’s love, only to be left emptier than before, this should have knocked me to the ground, or I should have been crying my eyes out.

I did neither.

Given our rocky marriage, the adultery didn’t come as a surprise. I had an inkling he was no longer faithful to me. Of course, thinking about it and seeing it were two different things.

My insides were numb rather than exploding in pain. Oddly, I was more miffed than sad. He was flaunting his infidelity at the New Year’s party he made me put together at the last second.

Anger bubbled inside me like the champagne I drank. I strode up to them right as he had shoved his mistress aside. The brunette made a squeal of guilt.

“How could you do this at the party you asked me to whip up?” I hissed.

“We’ll discuss this later.” His eyes flicked over me dismissively. He was ending the discussion as if catching him with his mistress didn’t warrant a conversation.

“We’ll talk about it now!” Perhaps this was the alcohol talking, but I refused to be ignored. “What did you think you’d do? Sneak away to play champagne slip ‘n’ slide with your mistress?”

“Jordan,” he warned. The condescension dripped from him in spades.

But I was done. I hadn’t been happy for so long; this was the icing on the cake. Public humiliation turned out to be my breaking point. “You know what? I want a divorce,” I announced bravely.

Anger flashed in Henry’s eyes. “Excuse me,” he told the brunette without looking her way.

The brunette complied wordlessly, unsurely lingering on the sidelines.

“Do you remember when I rescued you from that looney bin?” He lowered his voice to cloak the menace hiding in his words.

My heart sank.

I tried lurching away, but he gripped my bicep. “Talk about divorce again, and I’ll ship you back to that nut house and keep you drugged up around the clock.”