Page 81 of The Bad Husband

Anything’s possible in this house.

I crane my neck out and look down the corridor.

Things seem fine.

It only takes a moment before I hear Henrietta walking upstairs, and my first reaction is to pull back.

No way. I’m not getting back in that room.

What if the access code changes daily like that stupid gate’s access code and I stay locked in there for days?

She’s upstairs anyway, so she can’t see me.

She’s walking and talking to her husband.

I stealthily move away, take the stairs up, check the corridor––there’s no one in there––and then walk into my room.

Sighing with relief, I close the door, turn around, and kick off my shoes.

The room has never looked nicer. Everything is clean and neat. Fresh flowers fill a vase.

I don’t remember them being here.

I walk to the bouquet of roses and examine them. Underneath the vase, a folded piece of paper peeks out.

I slide it out and unfold it with a shaky hand.

‘I know what you’re doing with my husband.’

I step back as if bitten by a snake.

“What the…?”

My voice is shot, my knees shaking.

Is that her? Of course it’s her. Who else can it be?

Has she been in my room?

The idea that Henrietta has walked into my room without my permission makes my skin crawl.

Does she really know what I’m doing with her husband?

Something doesn’t add up.

She wasn’t in the house when we walked in. No one was in the house. She arrived just before he dragged me into that room.

Damon has the place under surveillance.

He’d know if Henrietta snooped on us.

She’s either bluffing––I think she is––or he is part of some creepy game that they’re both playing.

Again?

Please, I don’t want to go back to that scenario.

Disheartened and still holding the piece of paper, I slide into a chair.