Chapter 2
Instinctively, I pulled out my phone and swiped the screen.
"Unknown Sender."
No subject.
There was just a single line of preview text.
That line of text was like a poisoned dagger, stabbing right into my eyes.
My heart skipped a beat.
Roxy asked, "Who's the email from? Is it urgent?"
Her voice sounded far away.
I didn't answer. My fingers trembled as I clicked into the email.
The email was disturbingly simple.
A picture and a few lines of text.
The picture was of Roxy.
No, it wasn't the Roxy I knew.
She was wearing a black lace slip I'd never seen on her before.
It was skimpy, barely covering the essentials.
The background was an unfamiliar hotel room, messy sheets and soft, suggestive lighting.
She was lying on her side on the bed, her gaze hazy. There was a faint, teasing smile on her lips, and she was looking straight at the camera like she was inviting me in.
It was a kind of sultry allure I'd never seen on her face before.
It was so unfamiliar and blinding, stabbing into my heart like a needle.
My mind went boom, like something just exploded inside me.
Dizziness crashed over me all at once.
Everything in front of me started to twist and blur. Even Roxy's worried face was getting fuzzy.
Below the photo, there was a chilling line of text.
[Your wife's pretty hot. Shame she's stuck with you.]
Every word branded my heart like a red-hot iron, leaving a sizzling burn.
Was it really a shame she was with me?
Shame?
To her, I...
No, was that really how pathetic I looked to this sender?
Rage and humiliation all mixed together, erupting in my chest like a volcano, scorching hot and impossible to contain.
Blood pounded in my head, my temples throbbing so hard it felt like they might burst.
Every muscle in my body tensed up.
My nails dug deep into my palms, almost drawing blood.
"Darling? What's wrong? You look really pale. Are you feeling unwell?" asked Roxy.
She sounded anxious as she reached out to feel my forehead.
I jerked back, dodging her hand like she had the plague.
Her eyes flashed with hurt and obvious confusion.
I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I was scared I might snap and start yelling, or do something even crazier.
I pulled out my pack of cigarettes with trembling fingers, barely managing to get one out and clamp it between my lips.
Click.
The lighter's flame flickered in the dim living room, briefly lighting up the twisted look on my face.
I took a deep drag. The harsh smoke burned down my throat and into my lungs, making me cough so hard my eyes watered.
But no matter how much I smoked, it couldn't drive away the chill in my chest or the fury threatening to swallow me whole.
"You're smoking again? Didn't you promise me you'd quit?"
There was a touch of surprise and a subtle hurt in Roxy's voice.
Quit?
Yes, I really did try to quit, for her and for the family I once believed would be happy.
But now? It felt like a cruel joke. I was the biggest joke of all.
I just couldn't shake off what I saw on my phone screen earlier.
That photo was like a venomous snake, all bright colors and flicking tongue, sinking its fangs into my sanity and tearing it apart.
I slammed the reply button, my fingers jabbing at the virtual keyboard, shaking with rage.
[Who are you?]
[What exactly do you want?]
[If you've got the guts, show yourself and say it to my face!]
I hit send.
An icy notification flashed across the screen: [Email failed to send. Invalid sender address. Untraceable.]
A deep sense of helplessness gripped me again, even stronger than when I'd heard Howard's name in the meeting room that afternoon.
I felt helpless, rage, and that sickening sense of being played for a fool.
That unseen hand, lurking in the dark, was mocking my weakness and humiliation with smug satisfaction.
"Damn it!" I finally lost it.
I smashed my fist hard into the wall beside me, a heavy thud echoing through the room.
Bits of plaster flaked off and rained down to the floor.
Roxy shrieked in fright. The spatula she was holding clattered to the floor with a loud bang.
"Mitchell, are you out of your mind?" she cried.