Catching Him

It was 2:24 PM in mid-July, and we had just woken up inside my husband's luxurious, opulent villa.

"Good afternoon, darling. Did you enjoy last night's variety of positions? Thanks for an unforgettable night," I purred.

"It wasn't bad… but I've had better," he muttered with a frown.

I said nothing and made my way to my room to get ready. I slipped into my tailored Percy jacket—a gift from my husband's colleague for our wedding anniversary—and began applying my makeup. That's when I heard his irritated voice from the first floor.

"Hurry up! We're running late—we have to meet Camila after lunch," he barked impatiently.

I agreed, but I deliberately took my time just to get under his skin.

Once I was ready, I headed to the garage and saw Jeff on a call.

"Who could he possibly be talking to at this hour?" I thought suspiciously.

As soon as I got into the car, he hastily ended the call.

"Oh, by the way, I've been meaning to tell you something," I said excitedly.

"What now? Don't tell me you're pregnant… or that your family needs money again," he sighed, exasperated.

I dodged the subject and changed the conversation.

We arrived at Golden Gallery, the restaurant where I had first told him I loved him. As we walked in, I noticed an extra chair at our reserved table.

"Who's joining us? Is Steve coming? Or maybe Mark?" I asked warmly.

"No, Camila said she's never been here before and really wanted to come along," he responded cheerfully.

"Didn't you say you had a meeting with her after lunch? So why is she joining us now?" I asked, my voice tinged with sadness.

Camila was Brazilian, and before Jeff and I had met, they had been involved—but not in a typical relationship. Their connection had been purely physical. Every now and then, they'd sleep together, and Jeff never missed an opportunity to praise her delicate, alluring body in front of me.

I had never met her in person, only heard about her through him.

During lunch, she ordered Wagyu steak with Turkish oysters.

After the meal, Jeff arranged for a car to take me back to the villa while he and Camila headed to the office together.

Jeff's old phone was still connected to the company's security cameras, and I knew the passcode. I had never suspected them—until neither of them answered my calls.

With trembling hands and growing unease, I rushed to Jeff's drawer, found his old phone, and tried to unlock it.

The passcode had been changed.

Jeff had a peculiar habit of using the same code for everything: 0121. I never understood its significance, but I knew it was the combination for his safe and computer. I took a chance and entered it on his phone.

It worked.

I accessed the security cameras… and saw that the office was completely deserted.

A wave of unease washed over me. Had they already left for home?

I called Jeff. "Sweetheart, are you done with work? Should I prepare dinner for you and Camila?"

"No, no… we're still at the office. Work is taking longer than expected," he responded hastily, his voice laced with anxiety.

My heart pounded. Something was off.

"What are they really doing?" I whispered, my throat tightening with emotion.

I called my best friend, Sarah. "Sarah, I think that bastard is cheating again! What should I do?" I snapped, furious.

"Leave him. How many times have I told you?" she replied heatedly.

"Sarah… I think I'm pregnant," I admitted, tears streaming down my face.

"Then get rid of it. I'm telling you, that man will never be a good father. Listen to me," she urged, her voice filled with frustration.

I sobbed silently.

Then the doorbell rang.

The maid, Elizabeth, answered it. I quickly wiped my tears and composed myself before heading downstairs.

"Hello, darling! How was your day?" I asked with a smile.

He didn't even acknowledge me and went straight to the bedroom.

"Elizabeth, bring me a fresh pair of boxers. Wash these for me," Jeff ordered.

Wait… wasn't he already wearing boxers? How did they get dirty?

I said nothing and focused on preparing dinner with Elizabeth's help.

Elizabeth had been our maid since Jeff and I started our life together. She was more than just a housekeeper—she was the mother figure I never had. Unlike my own mother, who spent her life chasing rich men for attention, Elizabeth had always cared for me.

After dinner, she prepared our bedroom—fresh sheets, soft pillows, and dim candlelight.

Jeff usually asked me to pleasure him before bed, but tonight, he fell asleep almost immediately. I was exhausted as well, so I didn't press him.

3:00 AM

A sound woke me.

"What could that be at this hour?" I mumbled, still half-asleep.

I went to check what was causing the noise.

"Yes, yes, yes—pour it on my breasts, harder, I want another one, oh, ah—harder!" came a familiar voice from the dressing room.

With doubt and hesitation, I proceeded to investigate.

"What the hell are you doing? Jeff! Camila! I can't believe this, Jeff!" I exclaimed furiously.

"I'll explain—it's not at all as you think," Jeff replied, his tone strained.

"I always knew that filthy scum," I seethed with anger and revulsion as I glared at him before adding, "I cannot fathom that the man I once adored, my life partner, could betray me…"

"No, wait—hold on, let me explain, please just listen. It's nothing like you imagine, Lana—I truly love you, my crazy one."

Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face—what did I lack?

I could almost see that look of mockery and sneering derision on the face of that promiscuous Camila.

I had no time to gather my belongings; immediately, I descended, grabbed the 918 Porsche I had bought for his birthday, and drove toward the Atlantis Palace Hotel—a journey of roughly thirty minutes, even though I was uncertain of the funds remaining on my card.

All the while, my phone incessantly rang. Glancing at the caller ID, I recognized that bastard, so I promptly cut off the call and hurled the phone out of the window near the shore. My speedometer soon registered nearly 243.

I remained in a daze until I finally awoke with my eyes opening in a hospital bed…