My Husband’s Massage Betrayal with My Best Friend - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Sophia Valentine was the kind of woman who lived for male attention—flirting, teasing, leaving every man she met wrapped around her finger. But the way my husband looked at her? That was... different. Wrong.
I caught them before I walked in, pausing just outside the door as something sour and unfamiliar hung in the air.
Sophia sauntered over, lips curled in that infuriating smirk. "Vivian, you and your husband really know how to have fun, huh? Next time there's action like this, you better invite me."
She winked, but it was stiff—like she was forcing the act. Like she was hiding something.
After they left, Daniel practically buzzed with satisfaction.
"Baby, I don't know what it is," he murmured, voice thick, "but just imagining you and Nathan in that room—even though he's my best friend—it drives me wild."
I shot him a look. Was he seriously implying something had happened between me and Nathan?
The accusation sat like acid on my tongue.
I dragged my fingers over his chest, forcing a smile. "If it worked so well, maybe we should try again right now—"
He stiffened. "I mean, it helped, but not that much. Maybe we need a few more sessions first?"
I tried again. Nothing. No reaction.
Try? Try what, you pathetic bastard?
He got his kicks while I got nothing.
Then it hit me—that nagging feeling I couldn't shake.
Last time at the spa, something had felt off.
And just now, I remembered—the masseuse's voice had sounded exactly like Sophia's.
Identical.
A sick, impossible thought slithered into my mind, ice flooding my veins.
"Sweetheart? You okay? I said we could try again later—"
I snapped back, nodding coolly. "Sure. Or maybe we invite Claire next time. How about her?"
"I don't know Claire like that. Sophia's better. But it's not about me—this is for you."
"Right." I kept my face blank. For now, I'd play the fool.
But once that suspicion took root, Nathan's words suddenly dripped with double meaning.
I waited until midnight, when Daniel's snores filled the room.
Then I snatched his phone and ducked under the covers.
I'd never invaded his privacy before, but if I didn't check now, my own mind would tear me apart.
It took less than a minute to find exactly what I feared.
The messages between Daniel and Sophia burned into my vision, each one a knife twisting deeper.
Sophia: You were insatiable today. Who knew you had such a dirty mind?
Daniel: You started it. Next time, let's do it right in front of her. Even hotter.
Sophia: Trying to get your husband killed? She's clueless, but not blind.
Daniel: You're the clueless one. Just slip her something to knock her out.
Sophia: True. You're evil. I'm gonna be the death of you.
My hands trembled as I scrolled further.
The flirting never stopped.
I had no idea how long this had been going on.
These two had gotten bored with sneaking around, so Sophia had cooked up something even sicker—doing it right under my nose.
It started with lingering looks, then secret touches under the table at our dinners. Once they got a taste of that twisted thrill, they couldn't stop.
That "expert advice"? A complete lie.
I hadn't misheard at the spa. Behind that screen, it wasn't a masseuse—it was Daniel and Sophia, fucking while I lay clueless inches away.
And now they'd done it in our home.
Sophia's own words: Same place, new game. So much hotter.
I wanted to puke.
My husband. My best friend.
They'd made me their joke.
And now? They weren't even hiding. They were planning to drug me—getting off on their sick game while I lay unconscious beside them.
This wasn't betrayal.
This was war.