Chapter 4

"I want to sit in the back."

On the way to the hotel, Nico looked at me, confused. "Why? You always sit up front."

Because I couldn't stand sitting where that whore had sat a hundred times. The thought of Tiffany perched there, acting coy, begging him to pull over so they could hook up in the car—it made me want to vomit.

But I just said, "I want more space."

He didn't question it.

Nico walked me into the hotel, his arm around my waist, other guests casting looks of envy and awe. In their world, being Mrs. Moretti was the dream of countless women.

If only they knew the price. This crown was made of razor blades.

Family heads came over to greet us. Nico's hand never left my lower back. He poured my wine, whispered in my ear, "This bottle is two thousand dollars. Still doesn't compare to your beauty."

Once, words like that would've made me blush.

Now I just wanted to laugh. In his heart, I was clearly worth less than a twenty-two-year-old bartender. The irony.

The gala went smoothly.

I played the perfect wife: elegant, intelligent, engaged just enough but never overstepping. Every smile was precisely calculated.

Eight-twenty. Nico glanced at his watch. "Darling, I need to go downstairs to meet a business partner. Won't take more than half an hour."

"Of course." I smiled. "Take your time."

A few minutes later, I excused myself, claiming I felt unwell. Left the ballroom.

The moment I was out the door, I dialed Nico's number.

He picked up on the third ring.

"Hey, baby, what's up?" His voice sounded strained.

"I'm feeling a little dizzy. When are you coming back?"

"Soon. Give me... fifteen minutes."

His voice suddenly blurred, like he was suppressing something.

Then I heard it.

A woman's low giggle. Soft. Seductive. And the crisp metallic jingle of a small bell on some kind of toy.

Jingle. Jingle.

"Nico? Where are you?" I kept my voice worried.

"In... in the office. Partner just arrived."

"Mmm... Nico..." A woman's moan in the background.

I gripped my phone. My knuckles went white.

That voice. No mistake. Tiffany.

"Baby, you sound strange. Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Of course... ah... this partner is just... a little hard to handle."

"Oh, yes, Nico... right there..." Tiffany's voice was muffled. She didn't know he was on the phone.

"Come on, little wildcat, I need you now..."

Jingle, jingle. That damn bell, faster and faster.

I pressed the record button. Calmly documenting everything.

"Nico? Nico?"

"What? Oh, sorry, baby, bad signal. I'll be right up."

"Okay. I love you." I said it in my sweetest voice.

"I love you too."

The lie rolled off his tongue so easily, so practiced. Like breathing.

I hung up. Saved the recording. Walked back to the table as if nothing had happened.

Forty minutes later, Nico returned. Hair mussed. Tie crooked. A satisfied grin on his face.

"Sorry for the wait, baby. That partner was a tough bone to crack."

I turned to him, offering a perfect smile. "No problem. Business is important."

He took my hand. "You're the best wife in the world."

My phone vibrated.

Passport and flight confirmed. Active in five days. Everything in order.

I locked the screen fast, but Nico caught a glimpse.

"Passport? Olivia, where are you going?"

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