The Betrayed Wife's Spectacular Cold Comeback

Kaya Harper stood in the center of the mahogany-paneled study, a soft velvet cloth gripped in her right hand.

She rubbed the fabric over the silver edge of a framed photograph on the massive desk. The picture showed her and her husband, Grady Kelley Maddox, on their wedding day. She looked perfect. He looked perfect.

Kaya set the frame down. She gathered a stack of scattered financial reports from the polished surface. She turned to her right and pulled the heavy brass handle of the bottom drawer.

The drawer slid out two inches and stopped with a hard thud.

Kaya frowned. She pulled harder. The wood groaned, but the drawer refused to open further. Something was wedged deep inside the metal tracks.

She dropped to her knees on the Persian rug. She reached her hand into the narrow gap, her fingers blindly searching the dark space at the back of the drawer.

Her fingertips brushed against something cold and metallic. It felt like a small button. She pressed it.

A soft click echoed in the quiet room.

The false bottom of the drawer popped upward, revealing a hidden compartment.

Kaya blinked. She hooked her finger under the wooden panel and lifted it away completely.

A stack of loose Polaroid photos lay scattered in the dark recess. The top one had yellowed edges.

Kaya reached in and picked up the top photo.

Her eyes focused on the image. Her lungs stopped working.

It was Jasmine. Grady's adopted sister. Jasmine was wearing a sheer, black lace bra and matching panties. She was lying on the very desk Kaya was currently kneeling beside. Her lips were parted, her eyes staring into the camera with raw, naked invitation.

Kaya's fingers started to shake. The tremor moved up her arms, into her shoulders.

The Polaroid slipped from her grip and fluttered onto the rug.

She reached into the compartment again, her hands moving frantically now. She pulled out the rest of the photos. Dozens of them. Jasmine in the shower. Jasmine in Grady's bed. Jasmine wearing Grady's dress shirts, unbuttoned to the navel. Every single image dripped with a suffocating, secret lust.

Beneath the photos lay a small, black leather diary. The edges were worn.

Kaya's stomach twisted into a tight, painful knot. She swallowed hard, forcing down the bile rising in her throat. She opened the diary to the first page.

Grady's sharp, slanted handwriting filled the lined paper.

I can't stop looking at her. It's sick. She's my sister. But she's not blood. I want to ruin her.

Kaya flipped the pages, her vision blurring. She stopped on a date from two years ago. The day of their wedding.

I married Kaya today. She is quiet, obedient, and comes from a good family. My mother loves her. She is the perfect shield. As long as I have a wife, no one will ever look too closely at me and my little Yue. Kaya will be the perfect shield. With her as my wife, I can protect my little Yue from everything. This marriage is a necessity, nothing more.

A violent wave of nausea hit Kaya. She clamped a hand over her mouth. Her chest heaved as she fought the urge to dry heave onto the expensive rug.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

Heavy, masculine steps mixed with the light click of heels. Low voices drifted through the heavy oak doors.

Panic spiked in Kaya's veins. She shoved the photos and the diary back into the hidden compartment. She slammed the false bottom down and shoved the drawer shut.

She scrambled to her feet. She darted across the room and slipped behind the heavy, floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains just as the brass doorknob turned.

The double doors swung open.

"I don't care, Grady!" Jasmine's voice whined, thick with fake tears. "She completely ignored me at afternoon tea. She thinks she's so much better than me just because she's your wife."

"Shh, baby, stop." Grady's voice was a low, soothing rumble. It was a tone Kaya had never heard him use with her.

Kaya held her breath. The dust from the curtains tickled her nose. She pressed her back flat against the cold glass of the window.

Through a narrow slit in the fabric, she saw them.

Jasmine stood in the center of the room. Grady wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest.

Jasmine went up on her tiptoes. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Who do you love, Grady? Tell me."

"You," Grady said instantly. He buried his face in her neck. "Only my little Yue. Always you."

"Then why won't you divorce her?" Jasmine demanded, her fingers digging into his hair. "Have you touched her? Tell me the truth."

Grady let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "I haven't laid a single finger on Kaya in two years. I swear it. She's a prop, Jasmine. A perfect, boring little shield so the old woman leaves us alone."

Behind the curtain, Kaya bit down on her lower lip. She bit down hard.

The sharp sting of pain grounded her. The metallic taste of warm blood flooded her tongue.

Grady scooped Jasmine up into his arms. She giggled, wrapping her legs around his waist. He carried her toward the inner door of the study, the one that led to his private resting room.

He kicked the door shut behind them. The heavy wood muffled the sound of Jasmine's moans.

Kaya stepped out from behind the curtain.

She stood in the dead silence of the study. Her heart wasn't racing anymore. It felt completely still. The warm, devoted wife who had walked into this room ten minutes ago was gone.

Kaya wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand. She turned her back to the closed door, placed one foot in front of the other, and walked out of the room.