My Husband's Brother Owns My Secret

Faye Hartman POV

The receiver clicked into place, severing my connection to the outside world. I stepped out of the phone booth, the cold Chicago wind biting at my exposed skin, but it did nothing to cool the fire of betrayal burning in my gut.

I slipped back into the estate through the side entrance, intending to retreat to the sanctuary of the guest room. But the moment I stepped into the foyer, the air felt different. The heavy silence from earlier had shattered, replaced by a frantic, electric tension.

Joshua was pacing the black-and-white marble floor, his phone clutched in a hand that was visibly trembling. He looked up as I entered, his eyes wide, the pupils blown with pure terror. The arrogance he had worn like a suit of armor this morning was gone, stripped away to reveal the shivering coward beneath.

"Where have you been?" he hissed, crossing the distance between us in two long strides. He grabbed my upper arm, his fingers digging into the tender flesh. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I went for a walk," I said, wincing as I pulled my arm from his grip. "What is wrong with you?"

"He's back," Joshua whispered, the words choking him. "Anthony is back from New York early. He's summoned us."

The name hung in the air like a guillotine blade. Anthony Caldwell. The Don. The head of the family, the man who held the leash to the monster I married. I had never met him—he had been in Italy and then New York since our arranged marriage—but his shadow loomed over every corner of this house.

"Now?" I asked, a cold knot forming in my stomach.

"Tonight. Dinner at the Lakefront Estate. It's a command, Faye. Not an invitation." Joshua ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his breathing shallow. "You need to go upstairs and change. Wear something elegant but conservative. And the ring. Make sure you're wearing the sapphire."

"I'm not going," I said instinctively. The thought of sitting at a table with Joshua, pretending to be a happy couple while his mistress carried his child, made bile rise in my throat.

Joshua's face twisted. He stepped into my personal space, his voice dropping to a menacing low that was far scarier than his shouting. "You don't get a choice. No one says no to Anthony. If we aren't there, if we look like anything less than the perfect, loyal family unit, he will tear us apart. Do you understand? He smells weakness. He smells lies like a shark smells blood in the water."

"Go," he shoved me toward the stairs. "Thirty minutes."

I climbed the stairs, my legs feeling like lead. I entered the master bedroom, the scene of our earlier argument, and went straight to the vanity. My hands were shaking as I opened the velvet jewelry box.

I needed to play the part. The dutiful wife. The trophy.

I reached for the pair of diamond studs Joshua had given me for our first anniversary. They were cold, impersonal stones, but he insisted I wear them for family events. It was his way of branding me.

My fingers brushed the velvet lining.

One stud sat there, glittering under the chandelier light.

The other slot was empty.

My heart stopped. I froze, staring at the small indentation in the fabric. I tipped the box over, shaking it. Necklaces and bracelets spilled onto the marble top, a chaotic cascade of gold and silver. I frantically patted the surface, then dropped to my knees, scanning the thick carpet.

Nothing.

Panic, sharp and suffocating, clawed at my throat. I replayed the last twenty-four hours in my mind. The gala. The fight. The drive to the hotel. The penthouse.

The penthouse.

I squeezed my eyes shut, a wave of nausea hitting me. I must have lost it there. In the bed. Tangled in the sheets with the stranger whose face I had barely seen in the dark.

If that man found it... it was a direct link to me. A diamond stud wasn't just jewelry; it was evidence. Proof of my infidelity. Proof that could get me killed in this world.

"Faye! We're leaving!" Joshua's voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs, laced with panic.

I couldn't find it. I couldn't go back for it.

I scrambled to my feet, shoving the remaining diamond stud deep into the back of the jewelry box, burying it under a tangle of chains. My hands trembled as I grabbed a pair of simple pearl earrings instead. They were modest, unassuming. Innocent.

I fastened them to my ears, staring at my reflection. The bruise on my neck was covered. The fear in my eyes was masked. The missing diamond was a ticking time bomb left in a stranger's bed, but I had no way to defuse it now.

I smoothed down my dress, took a breath that rattled in my lungs, and walked out of the room to meet my husband, praying that the Don's nose for lies wasn't as sharp as Joshua claimed.