THE BILLIONAIRE'S MIDNIGHT QUEEN

(Claire POV)

Even before I reach the door, I hear a sound, a soft moan coming from our room. My feet slow down without me even thinking about it.

My body reacts before my brain can even keep up. For a moment, I think I must be imagining things because of the silence that greeted me when I came in tonight. Silence sometimes has a nasty habit of playing tricks on us.

Then I hear that sound again, not loud but enough to make my heart skip a beat.

I stop in front of our bedroom door, a cake box and white roses in my hand. Everything stops within me, as if the whole world is holding its breath with me.

No, there must be an explanation. My fingers are gripping the cake box tightly; I don't want to ruin the icing.

I stare at the door, our bedroom, we've been married for seven years.

Another moan escapes from our room, and this time I don't pretend I didn't hear it.

It's softer now, I blink, confused. I recognize that voice, it's Damien's.

I grip the cake box tighter; it tilts slightly before I manage to steady it. My breathing slows as my heart races with anxiety.

A shock overwhelmed me; I already knew what was happening before I even saw it.

For our seventh anniversary, I absolutely had to go to the store to buy some delicious fragrant white roses and a cake to celebrate with my husband, Damien.

Something that expresses "I love you" without needing to say much.

I almost laughed in disbelief, almost became hysterical, while silently praying that it was just a dream.

Seven years ago, Damien and I had nothing. No money, no security, no guarantee that things would get better.

Before, we knew each other, that was enough, now things are different.

I know this because I've been feeling it for weeks in the way Damien looks at me and talks to me.

The distance between us grows with every passing second; I was hoping to rectify the situation on our anniversary.

I try to stop myself from listening, but the moans and groans coming from our room echo in my head.

I close my eyes for a moment, tears are flowing. This feeling that I ignored for weeks is finally real.

I open my eyes, my hand is on the door handle, then I stop for a moment.

There is still time to leave and pretend nothing happened, but I cannot, because if I leave now, I will always wonder what happened.

I'm tired of asking myself questions, so with a sudden push, I push the door open.

The room is messy, the curtains are half closed and the sheets are all wrinkled.

Then I see everything clearly, another shock hits me more violently this time, the room starts to spin before my eyes.

Damien is in bed with another woman; she is under him, her red hair covering the pillow.

He rubs his hips against her, their skin slapping against each other as she continues to moan, his fingers digging into her back.

I swallow my saliva, my chest tightens as I see my husband stabbing me in the back by bringing in another woman and sleeping with her.

The cake I am holding in my hands feels heavy, as if I were holding something that does not belong to me.

My fingers press on the box, nobody notices me at first.

I don't know how long I stay there before Damien finally looks at me, our eyes meet.

Everything stops, I wait for him to do something, to look shocked. To say my name as if he still cared about me.

Instead, he looks at me as if I'm bothering him and I'm the problem; my heart sinks.

The woman beneath him looks at me curiously, without any embarrassment. In moments like these, I expect her to at least try to flee. But she seems so at ease, as if she were at home.

Something inside me twists my heart, making it bleed with pain.

"Damien," I whisper, in shock.

He exhales slowly, his eyes shining with anger. Then he straightens up nonchalantly, without the slightest shame.

"Claire," he muttered. "You came home early."

My lips trembled as I tried to speak, I managed to take a wobbly step forward.

"What is it, Damien?" The question comes out in a whisper.

He runs his hand through his hair as if he's been waiting for this moment.

"Listen, I was just about to tell you," he said, gesturing with his hand.

I stare at him, pain mixed with anger evident in my voice. "Tell me what?"

"That it doesn't work, Claire."

Those words hit me like a punch to the face, echoing loudly in my head.

"That," he said, pointing at us. "That's not working, I need to let off some steam, okay?"

My fingers tighten on the cake. "This?" I cry out anxiously, looking at the woman in our bed. "Is that how you're telling me?"

"Claire, be realistic. Don't complicate things unnecessarily. Things are constantly changing," he said with cold indifference. "We've been together for years, you can't expect everything to stay the same."

I feel something break inside my chest. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Well, perhaps you should have been more careful."

I want to scream in pain at the top of my lungs because I know how much I have sacrificed.

"What are you saying?" My voice takes on a sad tinge.

He looks at me calmly. "I think we should have an open marriage."

For a second, the world falls silent.

"Open marriage?" My knees buckle, but I manage to straighten up.

"Yes. It's practical, without lies or drama. We both get what we want."

I almost want to laugh, because he's the only one who gets what he wants. I look at the cake, so perfect and so carefully chosen, but now it has no meaning whatsoever.

I take a deep breath, something changes inside me. The pain transforms into a cold rage and bitterness.

I take a step forward, and suddenly, a flicker of concern appears in Damien's eyes, confusion is written all over his face. The red-haired woman quickly walks away.

"Claire, what are you doing?" Her voice is filled with fear.

I don't answer, I lift the cake and then smash it in his face.

The impact is sudden and brutal; a cold satisfaction washes over me. I must teach him a lesson.

Cream and strawberries cover its skin, the box crumples in my hand then falls to the ground.

Silence reigns in the room and the woman pants softly, pulling the sheet up around herself.

Damien stares at me, completely stunned.

GOOD.

I drop the box, the roses are still in my hand. I look at them for a moment, how soft and untouched they are.

I glare at him and throw flowers at him with a force fueled by rage.

They hit her shoulder, then fall onto the bed, the petals flying onto the sheets.

Without another word, I turn towards the door and leave the room, even though I feel like something inside me is breaking.

"Claire." Damien's voice follows me. "We need to have a real conversation, don't you dare let me down!"

His words pierced me; I stopped dead in my tracks, turned slowly, and fixed him with a piercing gaze. "You're playing with fire, and I'll make sure it consumes you."