The Billionaire in Disguise

დ Elara დ The moment I pushed open the apartment door, something felt wrong. It wasn’t the smell. It still smelled like us. His cologne tangled with that overpriced cinnamon candle I swore I hated but always relit. It wasn’t even the quiet. Matthew was always the quiet sort, especially when he was mad, which lately felt like always. No. It was a sound. A faint, rhythmic noise. Barely audible over the hum of the fridge and the low whirr of the ceiling fan. I froze halfway into the entryway as I let the door click softly shut behind me. My keys dangled loosely from my fingers. I didn’t call out to him. I should have. I always did. But this time, something stopped me. Some primal, cold thing at the base of my spine that gave me pause. “What the f**k?” I whispered as I slipped off my shoes without looking. The carpet was cold beneath my feet as I moved silently toward the hallway. The sounds were clearer now. Unmistakable. My chest squeezed. Air that caught somewhere between my ribs. I wasn’t ready. Whatever this was, I wasn’t ready. But my body kept moving. A slow walk down the hall, I had walked a thousand times. Past the bookshelf I built. Past the framed photo of us at the vineyard. Past the stupid hanging succulent, Matthew never watered. I reached the bedroom door. It was slightly open. A triangle of light stretched across the hallway floor like some cruel invitation. My hand trembled as I reached for it, and the doorknob felt cool under my palm. For a second, I hoped, hoped, it was something else. Possibly p**n. A TV show or movie. Even music. Some horrible misunderstanding. Something I could laugh about in ten years. Then I pushed the door all the way open. And the world stopped. Matthew. Naked. Between the thighs of someone who was not me. The rhythm of betrayal was in full motion. Her back arched, lips parted, his mouth at her neck, his hands on her hips. Lost in it. So lost, he didn’t hear me at first. It wasn’t until I screamed. A raw and guttural scream that tore them apart. That’s when I saw who it was. Scarlett. Scarlett-freaking-Aimes. His secretary. My legs gave out before my voice did. I stumbled backward into the hall. My hand caught the doorframe as the bile surged into my throat. Matthew jumped up and fumbled for the sheet. The look of guilt smeared across his face like blood. “Elara, wait—just wait—” he pleaded, but I didn’t wait. I couldn’t. I turned and ran. My heartbeat sounded like it was crashing in my ears. The hallway blurred. The cinnamon candle mocked me as I passed. I yanked open the front door with my fingers shaking and slammed it behind me. I didn’t even grab my phone. I didn’t grab anything. I just needed out. The night air hit me like a slap. Cold and too real. I sucked in a breath that cut my lungs and stumbled down the stairs like I was fleeing a fire. My vision blurred, hot and wet. Every step farther from that apartment was a step away from everything I had thought was real. Nothing but a lie. I don’t remember unlocking my car. I don’t remember the drive. All I remembered was the sick roar in my head and the way my hands couldn’t stop shaking. The Rusted Fig’s neon sign flickered as I pulled into the dirt lot. Small towns don’t have many sanctuaries. But this place? This place always had a drink strong enough to make you forget who you were. Even if only for a night. I pushed through the door and slid onto a barstool before the bartender even noticed me. David turned, and his eyes went wide. “Elara? s**t. Are you ok?” he asked, but I didn’t answer. I just lifted a hand. “Vodka,” I said. “Something strong. Just…don’t talk,” I didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. David hesitated, and then he nodded. A glass clinked in front of me thirty seconds later. I drank like it was water, not poison. It burned going down. Good. “Rough night?” David tried again, quieter this time. I gave him a look. Just a single, sharp look. He raised his hands and stepped back. The bar was half-full. The usual suspects. Farmers blowing off steam. A couple arguing in the booth near the jukebox. A guy playing pool with himself. Nobody cared about the girl at the bar losing her entire life. I slammed the glass down and gestured for another. Matthew. Scarlett. His hands on her like they belonged there. How long? How long had it been going on? I could still hear it. The moaning. The creaking mattress. And then my own scream that split the air like glass under pressure. I downed the second drink faster than the first. The pain didn’t fade. I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something. I wanted to smash every glass behind the counter. I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. But I stayed silent. All I did was down the drinks David kept refilling as per my request. “f**k,” I muttered softly. I should have called Aria, my best friend. I should have told her what had happened. But she wasn’t here. She was gone for the week. Some family trip to the mountains, no signal. The fifth drink hit harder. The world started to fuzz at the edges. Warmth crawled into my limbs. Not comfort. Just numbness. Close enough. I didn’t even notice how many I had had until David leaned across the bar again. “You should slow down,” he suggested, but I shook my head. “I don’t…I don’t wanna rem…remember…ber…” I managed to get out. David stared at me closely. “Is there someone I can call?” he asked, but I shook my head again. “No…no one…” I looked past him and saw my reflection in the mirror of the bar. My eyes were red, smudged with mascara. My lips were swollen. I groaned as I looked away. I reached for my drink, but I missed. Everything suddenly lurched, and I slipped off the barstool. The floor spun, and I tried to grip the bar top. I missed. “Ok, Elara…I have called an Uber to take you home,” David said as he came rushing around the bar to help me get to my feet. He held out his hand. “Keys. Now,” I fumbled around in my pocket and handed him my car keys. He led me over to an empty booth, and as soon as I was seated, I closed my eyes. “Drink this,” “What?” “Come on, Elara,” he urged, and I opened my eyes to see a cup of strong coffee in front of me. “The Uber is on the way,” he said again. I wrapped my hands around the large cup and cried. დ დ დ