My Hot Wife's Double Life - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

First off, Emily looked absolutely stunning like this. Second—and maybe more importantly—I needed to see if she was lying to me.
After we finished, I propped myself against the headboard to catch my breath.
Emily curled up against me, her almond eyes wide as she fake-pouted. "I hate you. You have zero chill."
I smirked. "Whose bright idea was it to ambush me like that? Pretty sure that makes it way hotter."
"Ugh, you're the worst!"
She swatted my arm playfully, then added, "Oh, by the way, my company's throwing some event this weekend. Might be gone all day."
"What kind of event?" I asked, half-distracted.
"Just some developer's property launch. Don't stress. Probably won't have my phone on me, so no blowing it up, okay?"
"Where's it at?"
"Some hotel. Vienna Marriott, I think?"
Boom.
My brain short-circuited.
Vienna Marriott Hotel. Masquerade ball night.
Wasn't that exactly what Lucas had just warned me about?
An event where female agents dressed like they were auditioning for a music video and got to pick their dance partners.
No way this was another coincidence.
Rage burned through me. I was ready to call her out right then—except she'd already dozed off mid-conversation.
After a tense pause, I decided not to wake her. Instead, I grabbed her phone and unlocked it with her face ID.
I scoured every app, every folder. Nothing sketchy. Just a ton of new contacts—all property clients—with completely normal chats.
Her work group had one new announcement:
Property launch @ Vienna Marriott, Sunday 7 PM, 1st floor.
Below were pricing sheets and some manager rant about "closing techniques." Everything looked legit. Plus, Lucas had said the event was on the third floor.
Maybe I was just paranoid.
Thinking about how hard Emily had been grinding this past month—running herself ragged to help with bills—guilt twisted in my gut.
I shouldn't have doubted her.
Next day, I wrapped up deliveries early and decided to surprise Emily at work.
I waited outside her sales office. No sign of her.
Finally, I walked in.
A female agent in a tight blazer pounced instantly, flashing a toothpaste-commercial smile. "Looking for your dream home, sir? Let me give you the VIP tour!"
Before I could react, she'd latched onto my arm, her chest pressing way too close for professional comfort.
Since when did realtors turn into used-car salesmen?
"Actually, I'm here for Emily. She around?"
Her smile dimmed. "Oh, her? Probably out showing listings." Then, perking up: "But hey, if you know anyone buying, send 'em my way. I'll make it worth your while."
She winked. I didn't wanna know what that meant. Nodding vaguely, I bolted.
So much for surprises.
Outside, I called Emily. "Hey, where you at?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Sophia's place. Teaching her yoga. Why?"
"Nothing. Just come home soon."
I kept my visit to myself.
Sophia lived in some bougie villa—I knew the address. Hopped on my bike and headed over.
Front door was unlocked. Lights on. A faint buzzing hummed from upstairs—probably their workout.
Quiet as hell, I crept up. Living room: empty. Headed straight for the bedroom. Door slightly open.
Grinning, I prepped my best jump-scare.
Then—BAM!—I kicked the door wide.
"AH—!"
The second it swung open, my whole body locked up.