The clock struck midnight, and the city lights twinkled against the backdrop of the darkened sky. Lynam stumbled out of his car, his steps uneven and his breath reeking of whiskey. His suit jacket hung off one shoulder, and his tie was loosened to the point of falling. Behind him, Michelle followed with a sly smile, perfectly composed as if she hadn't had a drop to drink.
"Lynam," she cooed, steadying him as he leaned against the doorframe of the grand estate. "You're such a mess. Let me help you."
"I can manage," he slurred, fumbling with his keys. "Don't...don't need anyone's help."
But when the door creaked open, Michelle slipped inside without waiting for an invitation. "Let me just make sure you don't pass out in the hallway," she said sweetly, brushing past him.
Inside, the mansion was eerily quiet. Xanthe was away at a pack meeting that had run late, her duties as Alpha Luna taking precedence over everything else. Michelle took note of the empty house, her mind already scheming.
By the time Michelle coaxed Lynam upstairs, he was barely conscious. She helped him onto the bed, unbuttoning his shirt under the pretense of making him more comfortable. He mumbled incoherently, his head lolling to the side.
Michelle smirked. This was her chance.
She quickly removed her heels and slipped onto the bed beside him, arranging herself so it looked as though they had been intimate. Her dress was slightly unzipped, and she tousled her hair to add to the illusion. The dim light of the bedside lamp cast shadows that made the scene look all too convincing.
Satisfied, Michelle leaned back and waited.
Xanthe arrived just as the first rays of dawn painted the sky. She pushed open the front door, exhausted but relieved to finally be home. She called out for Lynam, but there was no response.
Her instincts flared with unease as she climbed the stairs to their bedroom. She opened the door...and froze.
The sight before her was like a dagger to the heart. Lynam lay sprawled on the bed, shirtless and clearly disheveled. Beside him, Michelle was nestled against his side, her dress rumpled and her lips curled into a smug smile as if she'd just woken up.
Xanthe's breath hitched, her vision blurring with tears. "What the hell is this?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak.
Michelle sat up slowly, feigning surprise. "Oh, Xanthe. I didn't realize you'd be back so soon."
"What did you do?" Xanthe growled, stepping closer, her fists clenched.
Lynam stirred, groaning as he blinked awake. His bleary eyes landed on Xanthe, and confusion flickered across his face. "Xanthe? What's going on?"
"What's going on?" she repeated, her voice rising. "You tell me, Lynam! Why is she in our bed?"
"I...I don't..." Lynam struggled to sit up, his mind foggy from the alcohol.
Michelle placed a hand on his arm, her expression one of fake concern. "Don't push yourself, Lynam. You were so tired last night...it's no wonder you don't remember."
Xanthe's heart shattered at the implication. "Don't you dare touch him!" she shouted, her voice breaking.
"I'm only helping," Michelle said innocently, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
Xanthe turned to Lynam, her pain morphing into fury. "I fought for us, Lynam. I gave everything to this marriage. And this is how you repay me?"
"It's not what it looks like," he said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't...I wouldn't—"
"Save it," Xanthe snapped, backing toward the door. "I can't do this anymore."
Without another word, she turned and stormed out, leaving Lynam to grapple with the wreckage of their relationship.
As soon as Xanthe was gone, Michelle let out a soft laugh.
"You're evil," Lynam muttered, rubbing his temples as he pieced together what had happened.
"Oh, darling," Michelle said, standing and smoothing her dress. "I'm just opportunistic. And it looks like your wife finally realized what a failure this marriage is."
Lynam's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His mind raced with how to fix the mess before it was too late.