My Parking Spot, His Secret Lover's Alibi

Victor's voice cut through the silence from right behind me.

I jumped and spun around in fright.

He stood there holding a peeled apple, his eyes fixed on the phone in my hand.

I forced myself to look calm, though my throat felt tight and dry. "When did you… start putting a passcode on your phone?"

"Oh, around Christmas," he replied smoothly as he handed me the apple.

His tone was perfectly casual. "Remember when we visited Zaire? His kid got hold of my phone and sent a bunch of random emojis to my clients and friends. I got tired of it and just set a passcode."

"I see…" I gripped my glass tightly, pressing further. "Have you been using my body wash lately?"

He blinked, then let out a chuckle. "Oh, that? Yeah, I knocked it over the other day. A bunch of it spilled out when the cap popped open. Come on, Mrs. Blake, you're not going to get mad at me over a little soap, are you?"

As he spoke, he reached up and scratched his ear.

My pupils dilated at the gesture.

"Of course not."

I forced a tight smile and handed the phone back to him.

It had been eight years. I knew his quirks inside and out.

Whenever Victor was hiding something from me, he would subconsciously scratch his ear. It was a nervous tic he didn't even know he had.

Five years ago, his parents disapproved of my family background and refused to let us marry. They locked him in the house and even beat him, but he never gave in.

When he finally snuck out to see me, he had scratched his ear, smiling as he casually said, "Jane, I'm fine. My parents actually love you. They've already given us their blessing."

The lie happening right before my eyes felt like a knife driving straight into my heart.

I couldn't bring myself to believe it.

We had built everything from scratch over the years. We supported each other, stayed fiercely loyal, and gritted our teeth through every single hardship.

Victor had always been so incredibly good to me.

I hated pain. Whenever I had to get a shot, he would cover my eyes, but his own body would tense up more than mine.

I didn't want children. He took all the heat from his parents and told them we were staying child-free.

Behind closed doors, he would pull me onto his lap and tease, "You're my baby. Having you is enough. If we have another, I'll just have to compete with them for your attention."

Even at business dinners, he always maintained strict boundaries with other women.

Our friends constantly teased me about it, saying Victor's favorite line at the table was, "My wife keeps me on a short leash. If I make her mad, she'll kick me out of the house."

He loved me so much. He treated me as if I were as vital to him as life itself.

And now, he was lying to me.

Once suspicion took hold, it would feed on itself until it consumed everything.

…

A few days later, I wrapped up a project early, packed up my things, and left work ahead of schedule.

As I drove toward our usual parking spot, I immediately spotted Victor's black Maybach. The car was angled sharply across the white line, aggressively taking up two spaces.

Without any expression, I parked my car somewhere else.

The moment I got out, I headed straight for the building's management office.

In the office, Javier Dawson was glued to his computer screen, drowning in paperwork.

When he saw me, he greeted me with a warm smile. "Jane, what brings you here?"

I made up a quick excuse about needing to check the security footage.

Javier nodded quickly, asking me to give him just a second. Once he finished his immediate task, he'd look it up for me.

I glanced around the monitoring room and asked, "Are you working the shift alone today?"

"No," he replied without looking up, clicking his mouse rapidly. "Abigail and I are on duty. She got an upset stomach from some boba tea and went to the restroom."

I nodded.

I waited for about five minutes. Just as Javier was about to pull up the logs for me, my phone suddenly blared.