C2: Confirmed betrayal

He wouldn’t do this to me…they are just rumours…I can’t doubt him…

She repeated the words over and over as if to convince herself that she was overreacting.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to rationalize the situation.

They had been together for ten years and married for seven. Trust was the foundation of their marriage.

If she baselessly accused him and shattered the trust they had built all these years all because of some unfounded rumours, there would be no going back.

”Phoebe, what are you doing? What’s gotten into you?” She frustratedly questioned herself, running her hand through her hair. They were all groundless rumours. Gael had never given her a reason to doubt him.

It was unfair on him and it wasn’t fair on their marriage either.

”Get a grip, Phoebe” she muttered under her breathe.

Taking a deep breathe, she lifted her foot, guilt etched on her face as she approached him.

Just as she was about to call out to him, an elderly woman, equally dishevelled and nervous, pushed her way through the second throng of people walking out of the building, calling his name.

The woman was barefoot, her pale rose silk blouse was tucked on one side with a few undone buttons. It was stained with blood and one of its sleeves was torn and tied around her arm as a badge. Her blonde hair spotting streaks of grey looked like a birds nest.

Nasty looking bruises marred her exposed skin on her face, arm and legs.

Her dishevelled appearance caught the attention of the office workers. Her unkept appearance as well as that of the CEO piqued their interests. They begun to whisper among themselves as others took out their phones to take pictures.

The woman paid them no mind. She limped out carrying a striped navy blue and white maternity bag, calling his name.

Gael, his face a mixture of worry and guilt turned towards the direction of the voice.

”Gael,” the woman called out, ”the baby’s bag. Bianca might need this when the baby is born.”

Phoebe frowned at the intimate way she addressed him. As far as she could remember, whether in public or private, she had always addressed him as ‘Mr. Villacorta.’

The elderly woman was Kimberly Jones. Gael’s secretary of nine years.

Before Phoebe could decipher when her tone of address had changed, Kimberly’s next words made Phoebe pause mid stride and knocked the wind out of her lungs.

”What are you still doing here? You should follow them. Bianca might be anxious when she wakes up and you are not there.”

”The baby…” he trailed off, his voice choked with emotions. ”Am afraid she will hate me when she wakes up.”

Kimberley stepped forward and rubbed his arm comfortingly. ” Bianca loves you, she did what she did out of love.”

Phoebe stumbled back.

” I don’t know what I will do if I lose either of them,” Gael’s voice trembled as he gazed at his blood stained hands.

”Hey, no one is dying today, Bianca is a fighter and so is your son,” Kimberly said firmly. She reached for his trembling hands and held them steady, ” But, if worst comes to worst, God forbid, you can always try again. You two are still young.”

Boom!

The contents of their conversation was akin to a bomb exploding in Phoebe’s ears.

Phoebe stumbled back in shock. It was all true… He had betrayed her.

A knot rose in her throat as her body trembled ever so slightly. A suffocating wave of despair washed over. She clenched her hand so tightly the nails dug into her skin.

It felt like someone was slowly twisting a knife in her chest.

Maybe he was.

Never had she ever thought that there would be a day when she would bear witness to her husbands heartbreak over another woman.

Their voices, though not loud, could clearly be heard by those near by. The crowd was larger than the first one and their gossipy antennae tingled with anticipation for more juicy details.

However, the ever-composed CEO and his secretary stood in their own world, oblivious to the crowd forming again-until an onyx black Mercedes-Benz S-Class pulled up.

The door opened, and the chauffeur stepped out.

“Sir,” he said respectfully.

Kimberley handed a leather bag to the chauffeur, who placed it on the passenger seat.

“Go on,” she urged Gael with a gentle, encouraging smile. “Your family is waiting.”

Gael hesitated, casting a murderous glare toward the top floor of the building.

“I’ll handle the aftermath,” Kimberley promised, patting his arm. “That scumbag won’t get away with this.”

Gael gave a short nod, then stepped toward the car-just as Phoebe stepped forward.

“Gael!” she called, voice trembling, tears brimming in her eyes.

Her heart broke at the sight of his anguish-anguish not for her, but for another woman.

A flood of resentment surged within her.

All three turned, shocked t see her standing there.

“Ms. Roux,” Secretary Kim said, before glancing worriedly at Gael.

“What are you doing here?” Gael asked, unrepentant, pulling at his tie in frustration.

Phoebe’s chest tightened. That was it? That was his response?

“You’re seriously asking me that?” she said, voice cracking. “What’s going on?”

“You should go home,” Gael replied coldly. “We’ll talk later.”

But Phoebe refused to be dismissed.

“Gael!”

Gael turned to her sharply, his frown like a blade.

“Who is that woman? Is she your mistress?” she demanded.

“Ms. Roux,” Kimberley interjected with a tight smile. “Why don’t I have someone take you home-”

Phoebe whirled on her.

“Ms. Roux?” she laughed bitterly. “Funny. You’ve never called me that before.”

Kimberley froze, blinking awkwardly.

“Sorry…I misspoke.”

Phoebe sneered. Misspoke? She wasn’t a fool. Kimberly had the gall to act like this because Gael’s betrayal had given her permission.

In her eyes, Phoebe was no longer his wife.

Ms. Roux.

Even Phoebe had almost forgotten that name once belonged to her.

“I’m speaking to my husband,” she spat. “It’s not time for mutts to butt in.”

Kimberley flinched. Her eyes flicked to Gael with a wounded look.

“Why won’t you answer me?” Phoebe asked Gael, her voice rising, cracking. “Who is she?”

“Stop causing a scene and go home,” Gael said icily, not even looking at her.

Around them, the crowd had reassembled. Their gossip-hungry antennae perked with excitement. Gael scowled and nodded at Kimberley to take care of it. Then he slipped into the car, and the chauffeur shut the door.

The chauffeur-a man Phoebe had known since Villacorta Group’s earliest days-acknowledged her with a nod.

She ignored him.

In her mind, everyone around Gael was complicit. They all knew. They all kept quiet.

The car pulled away, speeding in the direction the ambulance had taken.

Phoebe stood there, trembling. She had been abandoned. In public. With nothing but humiliation burning in her chest.

Where would she even put her face now?

The crowd, now fully invested, turned their curious gazes toward the abandoned wife-waiting for a meltdown.

“How long?” Phoebe demanded, turning to Kimberly.

“This… Ma’am…” Kimberley began hesitantly.

Phoebe stalked toward her. Her glare akin to a dagger.

“How fucking long has this been going on? Who the fuck is she?”

Kimberley dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but it’s not my place to divulge such-”

Phoebe cut her off with a sarcastic scoff. “You really are a loyal dog.”

Kimberley’s smile stiffened.

Phoebe turned to leave-but Kimberley rushed forward, blocking her way.

“Ma’am, please… let me have someone drive you home,” she pleaded, waving over a security officer.

Phoebe chuckled in disbelief as she stared at the woman trying to corral her like a child.

Did she think she would just leave quietly? Let Gael play house with his mistress?

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow.

“You’re not in the right state to drive,” Kimberley coaxed.

“Is that so?” Phoebe snapped.

“It’s better to be safe than-”

SMACK.

Phoebe’s hand flew across Kimberley’s cheek. The older woman’s head snapped to the side.

“Ms. Roux-”

SMACK.

Phoebe slapped the other cheek before she could finish.

Kimberley staggered, clutching her face, fire burning in her eyes.

When had she ever been humiliated like this?

Cameras crackled like popcorn, capturing every charged second. The gossipers’ fingers couldn’t move fast enough.

“Kimberley Jones,” Phoebe snarled, venom in her voice. “Stay in your damn lane. You’re nothing but my husband’s loyal mutt. This is my family. Not your place.”

She shoved Kimberley aside and marched straight to her car-head high, pride in place, rage undiluted.