The Neglected Wife's Bitter Awakening

The bass from the speakers vibrated through the floorboards of The Elysium Club, traveling straight up Bianca's legs and settling in her chest. She sat in the corner of a curved leather booth in the VIP section.

A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the glass table in front of her. She picked up her glass and swallowed the amber liquid in one gulp. The alcohol burned a fiery path down her throat, hitting her stomach with a heavy, numb warmth.

Her head pounded in time with the strobe lights, but she poured another glass. She wanted the numbness to spread. She wanted to forget the image of Kahlil and Cassandra in that dining room.

A tall shadow fell over her table, blocking the harsh purple lights. Aydin Lee slid into the booth opposite her.

He wore a tailored casual suit, his posture relaxed. He reached across the table and smoothly pulled the whiskey bottle away from her hand. He poured a small amount into an empty glass.

"Rough night, princess?" His voice was a low, magnetic rumble that cut through the club's noise.

Bianca glared at him. Her vision was slightly blurred, but her tone was sharp. "What's it to you, Aydin?"

Aydin shrugged. He leaned back against the leather cushions. "Just making sure my favorite customer doesn't drink herself to death on my premises. Bad for business."

He lifted a hand. A waiter appeared instantly, placing a tall glass of ice water and a plate of small, elegant appetizers on the table.

Bianca ignored the food. She stared at her empty glass. Aydin didn't push. He just sat there, taking a slow sip of his drink, his presence a quiet anchor in the chaotic room.

After a few minutes, the alcohol loosened the tight knot in Bianca's throat. "Why do men always believe the worst?" Her words slurred slightly, heavy with a vulnerability she usually kept locked away.

Aydin raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly who she meant. "Which man? Your charming husband?"

Bianca let out a harsh, breathless laugh. "Charming? Ha. He thinks I'm incapable. Unfit. A burden."

Her chest heaved. The edges of her eyes burned with hot, unshed tears. "He'd rather believe a snake than see the truth."

Aydin's eyes darkened. He leaned forward. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. The movement was fluid, familiar.

"Then he's a fool, Bianca. And fools don't deserve you." His voice was dead serious.

Bianca flinched backward, but her reflexes were dulled by the whiskey. Aydin's fingertips grazed her skin. A wave of dizziness hit her. The room spun, the neon lights bleeding into one another.

"I... I should go." She pushed her hands against the glass table, trying to stand. Her knees buckled. She fell heavily back onto the leather seat.

Aydin was beside her in a second. He gripped her upper arm, his hold firm and steady. "You're in no state to drive. Or even walk straight. Let me take you home."

Bianca wanted to shake him off, but her muscles felt like liquid. Her head throbbed violently. She gave a weak nod.

Aydin pulled her to her feet. She swayed, her shoulder crashing into his chest. He wrapped an arm securely around her waist, taking most of her weight.

They walked through the crowded club. The smell of sweat and cheap perfume made Bianca nauseous. She rested her heavy head against Aydin's shoulder, her eyes slipping shut.

Outside, the cool night air hit her face. Aydin's black Maybach was parked at the curb. He opened the passenger door and carefully guided her into the seat. He reached across her, his chest brushing her arm, and clicked the seatbelt into place.

He closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. The engine purred to life. Bianca sank into the soft leather, her mind drifting into a dark, spinning void.

Aydin glanced at her. His jaw was tight. He merged the car into the sparse midnight traffic, heading toward Red Leaf Manor.

Bianca mumbled something incoherent. Aydin reached out and turned down the air conditioning.

Inside Bianca's clutch, her phone began to vibrate violently. The screen lit up the dark interior of the car. The caller ID flashed: Mrs. Gable.

Aydin looked at the glowing screen. He didn't touch it. He kept his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road, unaware of the explosive trap waiting for them at the end of the drive.