“I believe you know my husband, Daniel,” I gestured vaguely in his direction. “I apologize for interrupting such a beautiful celebration.”
Sophia’s face went pale. The guests around her exchanged confused glances. Her mother, a stately woman in blue, stepped closer, sensing the tension.
“I just needed a moment,” I continued, my voice steady, projecting just enough for the surrounding crowd to hear.
I reached into the gift bag. The rustle of the tissue paper sounded like a thundercrack in the silence.
Cliffhanger:
I pulled out the red lace lingerie. It hung from my fingers, stark and scandalous against the backdrop of the elegant party. Sophia’s eyes widened in horror. Her hand flew to her mouth. The jazz band stopped playing. The silence that followed was absolute, heavy, and suffocating. I held the garment out to her, and for a second, no one breathed.
Chapter 4: The Peak of the Storm
The room fell into a silence so profound you could hear the ice melting in the champagne buckets. Faces froze in various masks of shock and confusion. The red lace dangled from my hand, a flag of war in a room built for peace.
“Daniel left this in his car,” I said, my voice eerily calm, devoid of the hysteria they might have expected. “It’s a size small. Since it certainly doesn’t fit me, and considering the receipts I found, I believe it belongs to you.”
I extended my hand further.
Sophia didn’t move. She couldn’t. She looked like a statue carved from fear. Her perfectly applied blush stood out starkly against her blanching skin. Her mother gasped audibly, a sharp intake of breath that echoed through the foyer.
Daniel made a noise—a pathetic, strangled sound. “Emily, stop. Please.”
I turned to him then, slowly. I looked him up and down, seeing him not as the man I had loved for twelve years, but as a stranger in a cheap suit.
“I’m not doing anything, Daniel,” I said softly. “I’m just returning lost property.”
I turned back to Sophia, who was trembling now. Tears were welling in her eyes, threatening to ruin her perfect makeup. I didn’t feel pity. I didn’t feel triumph. I felt a profound sense of closure.
I gently placed the red lingerie into her shaking hands. She instinctively clutched it, as if holding onto the evidence of her own transgression.
“Happy Anniversary to your parents,” I added, nodding to the older couple who looked as if they had just witnessed a murder.
With that, I turned on my heel.
Gasps finally rippled through the guests. Whispers erupted like a swarm of angry bees. I heard a glass shatter on the floor. I heard Daniel calling my name, his voice rising in panic.
“Emily! Emily, wait!”
I didn’t wait. I walked back through the foyer, past the stunned servers, past the diamond chandelier, and out the front door.
The night air hit my face, cool and cleansing. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but my head was clear. I walked to my car, my legs feeling slightly like jelly, but I didn’t stumble.
