The Masseur’s Forbidden Touch - Chapter 5: Chapter 5
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The receptionist must have noticed the color draining from my face because her expression softened instantly.
She pulled up the service records for both the female masseuse and Male Masseuse No. 7.
The records didn't lie—during that time slot, they had only one client. Me.
She gave me a look that was equal parts pity and discomfort.
"Ma'am, I really think you should file a police report. It looks like your friend wasn't honest with you."
Her words struck like a physical blow.
I don't even remember leaving the spa. My fingers moved on autopilot, dialing Alina's number again and again.
First, silence. Then, the dreaded click of her phone powering off.
Even after a decade of friendship, the truth was staring me in the face—she'd set me up.
But why?
What had I ever done to deserve this?
I wandered the streets in a daze until the sun dipped below the skyline. When I finally dragged myself home, Adrian was waiting on the couch, his expression stormy.
The second he saw me, his lips curled into a sneer.
"Out screwing around again?"
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he cut me off.
"The divorce papers are ready. Sign them and get the hell out."
I walked over in silence and picked up the documents.
One glance, and my stomach dropped.
"No assets?"
Adrian let out a cold laugh.
"After what you pulled? You're lucky I'm not suing you for emotional distress."
My hands shook with fury.
We'd built this life together—no kids, just careers and shared dreams.
But the house? I had paid most of the down payment. I had shouldered the mortgage. And now he wanted to take it all?
"I'm not signing this."
Adrian stood and slapped me so hard my vision blurred.
"You don't have a choice." His voice was venomous. "Sign, and we walk away clean. Refuse? Don't say I didn't warn you."
I was pushing forty. If I walked away with nothing, what was left for me?
"Adrian, one mistake doesn't erase everything! I gave you my best years!"
He raised his hand again but stopped, smirking instead.
"Oh, so that's your excuse? Couldn't get pregnant, so you hopped into bed with some masseuse? Pathetic. You've got one week to sign. After that… don't blame me for what happens."
I couldn't lose the house. The savings, the investments—fine. But not our home.
A week passed.
Nothing. Maybe he'd been bluffing.
Then, during lunch, an email landed in my work inbox.
A mass message—Adrian's formal complaint.
Attached were explicit photos of me and Male Masseuse No. 7, screenshots from some hidden video.
His face was blurred. Mine was crystal clear.
The CEO was cc'd.
My world imploded.
"Sophia? Sophia!"
The HR manager shook my shoulder, her voice urgent.
"The CEO wants to see you. To… discuss this."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
How do you explain the unexplainable?
The woman in those photos was me.
Adrian hadn't just ended us—he'd destroyed me. And he'd done it without a second thought.
She pulled up the service records for both the female masseuse and Male Masseuse No. 7.
The records didn't lie—during that time slot, they had only one client. Me.
She gave me a look that was equal parts pity and discomfort.
"Ma'am, I really think you should file a police report. It looks like your friend wasn't honest with you."
Her words struck like a physical blow.
I don't even remember leaving the spa. My fingers moved on autopilot, dialing Alina's number again and again.
First, silence. Then, the dreaded click of her phone powering off.
Even after a decade of friendship, the truth was staring me in the face—she'd set me up.
But why?
What had I ever done to deserve this?
I wandered the streets in a daze until the sun dipped below the skyline. When I finally dragged myself home, Adrian was waiting on the couch, his expression stormy.
The second he saw me, his lips curled into a sneer.
"Out screwing around again?"
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he cut me off.
"The divorce papers are ready. Sign them and get the hell out."
I walked over in silence and picked up the documents.
One glance, and my stomach dropped.
"No assets?"
Adrian let out a cold laugh.
"After what you pulled? You're lucky I'm not suing you for emotional distress."
My hands shook with fury.
We'd built this life together—no kids, just careers and shared dreams.
But the house? I had paid most of the down payment. I had shouldered the mortgage. And now he wanted to take it all?
"I'm not signing this."
Adrian stood and slapped me so hard my vision blurred.
"You don't have a choice." His voice was venomous. "Sign, and we walk away clean. Refuse? Don't say I didn't warn you."
I was pushing forty. If I walked away with nothing, what was left for me?
"Adrian, one mistake doesn't erase everything! I gave you my best years!"
He raised his hand again but stopped, smirking instead.
"Oh, so that's your excuse? Couldn't get pregnant, so you hopped into bed with some masseuse? Pathetic. You've got one week to sign. After that… don't blame me for what happens."
I couldn't lose the house. The savings, the investments—fine. But not our home.
A week passed.
Nothing. Maybe he'd been bluffing.
Then, during lunch, an email landed in my work inbox.
A mass message—Adrian's formal complaint.
Attached were explicit photos of me and Male Masseuse No. 7, screenshots from some hidden video.
His face was blurred. Mine was crystal clear.
The CEO was cc'd.
My world imploded.
"Sophia? Sophia!"
The HR manager shook my shoulder, her voice urgent.
"The CEO wants to see you. To… discuss this."
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
How do you explain the unexplainable?
The woman in those photos was me.
Adrian hadn't just ended us—he'd destroyed me. And he'd done it without a second thought.
End of The Masseur’s Forbidden Touch Chapter 5. Continue reading Chapter 6 or return to The Masseur’s Forbidden Touch book page.