Part 3The Stranger in My Bed

Over dinner, Leo mentioned he was taking a few days off. He asked if I wanted to go visit my father.

According to my original plan, I would have presented him with the divorce papers before going home. My dad hadn't been well since his business went bankrupt. He’d moved back to our hometown, renting a small house where he spent his days gardening. It was his therapy. He was slowly getting better, but he was under the impression that Leo and I were happy. I hadn’t found the words to tell him the truth.

If I went home with Leo, the divorce would have to wait.

He was waiting for my answer. I forced a smile. "Sure. If you're not too busy, that sounds nice."

As we were leaving the restaurant, Leo stopped at the door.

I looked at him. "Did you forget something?"

His gaze, dark and unreadable, fell to my shoulders. "Put your shawl on." His tone was so sharp it was almost a command. Then, as if realizing how harsh he sounded, he softened his voice. "It's cold outside."

"..."

After my shower that night, I stared at the clothes in my laundry basket, thinking of my most recently vanished bra—a low-cut style, trimmed with white lace. I really loved that one. I wondered where Leo had hidden it.

An idea formed. I deliberately left the nightgown I’d just taken off on the floor of the bathroom. Leo would be coming to use the shower again tonight.

If the nightgown disappeared, I’d have my proof.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, there was a knock on my door. It was Leo, his face as cool and unreadable as ever.

"Sorry to bother you again tonight."

I smiled at him, a picture of generosity. "It's no problem. Go right ahead."

Listening to the sound of the running water, I felt like every second was an hour. I stared at the same page of my book, not reading a single word.

Finally, he emerged. He looked completely normal. "Sleep well, Audrey. Goodnight."

"You too. Goodnight."

The moment he was gone, I bolted into the bathroom.

And there it was. Or, rather, there it wasn't.

My nightgown.

Gone.

I was a mess of humiliation and anger. I stormed to the guest room door, my hand raised to knock. But then I heard it—a low, muffled sound from within. A strained, guttural groan.

Oh my God.

He wouldn't be… right now… would he?

My face was burning. Terrified of what I might see, I spun around and fled back to my room.