A Strange Woman Texted My Husband

The view from our Bellevue penthouse duplex usually calmed me, but tonight, a lingering tension still hung in the air.

"This Angus ribeye is incredible, Elena," Julian said, slicing the meat with practiced ease. "Perfectly medium-rare."

"I wanted to make up for my behavior in the car," I told him, swirling the Bordeaux in my glass. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

"Let's forget about it." He reached across the table and placed a tender piece of steak on my plate. "The stress of the merger got to both of us. End of story."

"Are you sure you aren't still angry?"

"At you? Never." He flashed a flawless smile. "Besides, Marcus gave me enough of a headache at the office today."

"Did the valuation fall through?"

"He tried to undercut us by two million. I told him to walk."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. He caved by three o'clock. We sign the papers on Monday."

"That's amazing, Julian."

"It pays for that vacation we talked about. Just you, me, and a beach in Maui. No cell service. How does that sound?"

"It sounds exactly like what we need."

"Good. Then we have a plan." He raised his glass. "To us."

"To us," I echoed, tapping my rim against his.

The conversation flowed easily from there. He was charming, attentive, and entirely relaxed. He joked about his assistant's terrible coffee order and complained about the local traffic. It felt like the terrifying standoff in the Audi had just been a bizarre hallucination.

Approaching midnight, I finished washing up. I changed into a silk nightgown and climbed into the large bed in the master bedroom.

Julian walked out of the bathroom wearing a pair of grey cotton sweatpants, his eyes glued to his phone screen. A deep crease formed between his brows, projecting a perfectly measured look of exhaustion and annoyance.

"What's wrong, honey?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbows.

"The European merger just hit a technical glitch." He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing heavily. "The partners won't stop emailing me for a solution. The pressure is insane."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow morning?"

"They're six hours ahead. Their tomorrow is right now." He shook the pack of Marlboros in his hand. "My head feels like paste. I need to go out to the balcony for a smoke to clear my mind. You go to sleep, baby."

"You know my asthma has been acting up," I reminded him gently. "The smell always makes my chest tight."

"I know, I know. I'll keep the glass shut tight. I won't bring the smoke inside."

"Don't stay up too late," I said, pushing the blankets aside. "It's bad for your health."

I sat up and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his bare chest.

He let out a soft, affectionate chuckle. He leaned down, pressing a warm kiss to the crown of my head.

"I know," he murmured against my hair. "I'll be good and stay right here at home to wait for you to wake up. I'll be back in bed before you know it."

As his embrace enveloped me, my right hand slid down his broad back. I shifted my weight, reaching toward the armchair where he had tossed his suit jacket earlier. My fingers brushed the wool fabric. I found the inner pocket.

Silently, I slipped the lipstick-sized, voice-activated noise-canceling micro-recorder deep into the dark lining.

"Go on," I told him, pulling away and offering a tired, obedient smile.

Julian grabbed his phone and cigarettes, turning toward the sliding glass doors.

I lay back against the pillows, watching his retreating figure.

Just as his foot touched the balcony step, he whipped his head around without warning.

My heart slammed into my ribs. Pure muscle reflex forced my eyelids shut. I kept my breathing entirely flat, feigning a deep, heavy sleep.

The seconds stretched into an agonizing eternity.

*Click.*

The heavy soundproof glass door locked into place.

The metallic scrape of the curtain rings followed immediately. He dragged the thick velvet blackout drapes across the glass, sealing off the outside world entirely.

He closed the door. He even pulled the curtains.

I balled my hands into tight fists under the sheets. I pressed my fingernails into my palms until the tender skin yielded. The sharp physical sting was the only thing suppressing the violent terror trembling in my chest.

Fifteen agonizing minutes dragged by.

The lock clicked again.

The glass door slid open. A rush of freezing night air and the harsh stench of burned tobacco flooded the bedroom.

"Elena?" Julian's voice cut through the shadows. It was low, probing, testing the waters. "Are you asleep?"

I didn't move a single muscle. I kept my exhales long and rhythmic.

The mattress dipped slightly as he brushed past. His footsteps moved toward the closet to change, then headed for the bathroom.

The door shut. The shower turned on.

I bolted upright.

My heart exploded against my sternum. My legs felt weak and useless as I scrambled off the mattress. Moving like a thief in my own home, I sprinted toward the laundry hamper in the closet.

I grabbed his discarded suit jacket. My hands shook so violently I nearly dropped the fabric. I shoved my fingers into the inner pocket.

Cold metal met my skin.

I didn't have the courage to open the file right now. I gripped the tiny tube so hard my knuckles ached. I ran to my vanity, grabbed my leather work briefcase, and shoved the recorder into the deepest zipper compartment.

I zipped it shut just as the water in the bathroom stopped running.

I scrambled back to the bed and dove under the blankets, rolling onto my side.

The bathroom door swung open. Julian walked out, smelling strongly of fresh cedar body wash.

He lifted the duvet and slid in behind me. His warm, heavy arm wrapped around my waist. He pulled my back flush against his chest, resting his chin in the crook of my neck.

"Goodnight, my girl," he whispered into my skin.

Less than five minutes later, a steady, heavy snore vibrated against my spine.

I stared at the cold shadows on the ceiling. I kept my eyes open all night, tears spilling over my lashes, completely and utterly doomed.

Tomorrow morning, I would plug that recorder into my laptop, to see if my perfect life would shatter.