Chapter 4She Paid 999 Dollars For A Cake, Yet I’m The One Being Judged

My mind relentlessly rehearsed the upcoming confrontation.

Should I burst in and shatter that bastard's jaw, or should I coldly record the evidence and force her to leave our marriage with absolutely nothing?

Neither felt like enough.

I wanted her on her knees, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. I wanted her to taste a fraction of the agonizing poison currently burning through my veins.

I gripped the flash drive in my pocket like a weapon. It held every single diary entry from her laptop. It was her one-way ticket to hell.

It was past nine by the time I arrived at The Grand Plaza.

Standing in the opulent, gold-trimmed lobby, a sudden wave of clarity washed over me. I couldn't just charge upstairs like a madman. The hotel had security. I wouldn't even make it past the elevators without a room key.

I needed a plan. Something foolproof.

My eyes fell on the Sweet Serendipity app on my phone. A wicked, venomous idea crystallized in my mind.

I moved to a quiet corner of the lobby and registered a new account using a secondary phone number. Then, I placed an order for the $999 "Afternoon Solace for Her."

In the special instructions box, I typed: "My husband is getting suspicious. Do not wear any kind of uniform. Come straight up and tell anyone who asks that you are a friend. I am in Room 1208."

Room 1208. Sarah's room.

I bought a black coffee, sank into a leather armchair in the lobby café, and locked my gaze on the elevator banks. I was going to see exactly what kind of man had the power to turn my gentle, perfect wife into a stranger.

I was going to film him walking right into her room.

The minutes dragged on like thick syrup.

At nine-thirty, a tall man in casual black streetwear walked through the revolving doors. He was incredibly handsome, carrying that same clean, effortless vibe as the men in the photos. He didn't pause at the front desk, walking with purpose straight toward the elevators.

That was him.

My heart began to hammer against my ribs, driven not by nerves, but by a volatile mix of rage and adrenaline.

I casually lifted my phone, aiming the camera lens right at him.

The man stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the twelfth floor. I quickly ducked into the adjacent car and followed him up.

I slipped into the stairwell, pushing the heavy fire door open just a crack, leaving one eye fixed on the door of Room 1208.

The man approached the room. He didn't knock. Instead, he smoothly pulled a keycard from his pocket.

A soft beep echoed in the hall, and the door clicked open.

A white-hot rage flared in my chest. I raised my phone, ready to immortalize this ultimate betrayal.

The door swung wide, and a strange woman wrapped in a plush white bathrobe practically leaped out to greet him.

She grabbed his hand, her voice dripping with playful affection. "What took you so long? I've been waiting forever."

I froze.

Why was it a different woman? Where was Sarah?

I leaned slightly further out of the stairwell, straining to see past the doorway.

That was when I saw her. My wife, Sarah. She was sitting dead center on the room's velvet sofa. She was fully dressed in a sharp, tailored business suit, her face completely devoid of emotion. She watched the couple at the door with the cold, calculating gaze of a queen surveying her subjects.

But what truly paralyzed me was the person sitting directly across from her.

Another man.

He was wearing the exact same jacket as me. He had my haircut. He even slouched his shoulders the exact same way I did. He had his back to the door, so his face was hidden.

Sarah's eyes flicked up, sensing the movement in the hallway.

She didn't react. She simply murmured something to the man sitting across from her.

Slowly, methodically, the man turned his head.

The warm glow of the corridor lights spilled across his features, and I finally saw his face.

In that fleeting second, I stood rooted to the spot, the blood turning to ice in my veins.