Scott POV
The front door clicked shut. It felt harder than a slam.
Scott stood in the hallway. His feet were bare on the cold marble. He watched the space where Audrey had just been.
His shirt was half-buttoned. His head felt heavy, like it was filled with wet concrete.
He went to the elevator and pressed the button. He pressed it again. The doors opened, but it was empty.
He pressed the lobby button and rode down. He was silent, trying to think of what to say, but the words wouldn't come.
The lobby was quiet. The doorman looked up, then quickly looked away, like he was paid not to see anything.
"My wife." Scott's voice was rough. "Did she take a cab?"
"She walked, sir. She went north."
North. In heels. At nine o'clock, on their anniversary.
He went back upstairs. Elena was in the kitchen. She had poured herself water. She stood at his counter in Audrey's silk robe.
She leaned against the cabinet, like she expected them to talk about something they had already decided.
"Get dressed," Scott said. "Get out."
"Scott." Her voice was patient, like she was talking to a child.
"You need to calm down before you do something you'll be sorry for."
"I need you out of my apartment."
She put the glass down slowly. "You don't remember tonight. I know that's scary. But you called me, Scott. You said you needed to see me. I have the messages."
He stopped moving.
"I can show you." She picked up her phone from the counter. "Your number. Your words. You said your marriage was a mistake and that you needed to talk."
He stared at the phone she held out. His own messages, his name at the top. Words he didn't remember writing.
"That's not possible."
"Look at the times."
He didn't take the phone. Something inside him pushed against it, against her calm voice, against her being there at all in a situation that couldn't be happening.
He had been at dinner with Daniel.
He remembered the restaurant, their table, and the first drink.
He didn't remember a second drink. He didn't remember leaving.
"I want you out," he said again. This time, she left.
He called Audrey as soon as the door closed. It rang four times, then went to voicemail. Her voice on the message was warm and clear, nothing like the woman who had just left. He called again. Voicemail. He sent a text. Then another. No reply.
He called Daniel.
"Where are you right now?" Scott's voice was even.
Daniel answered right away. This meant he was awake, and it meant he already knew. "Home."
"I need you to tell me what happened tonight. After dinner. Tell me everything."
A pause. "Scott."
"All of it, Daniel."
"We had dinner. Two drinks each. You got a call around eight.
You said it was your father, that something came up with a contract, and you had to go. You left. I stayed to pay." Another pause.
"That's all I know."
"I never went to my father's. I woke up in my own bedroom with Elena there, and I don't remember getting home."
Daniel was silent for a long time. It meant something.
"Did you drive?" Daniel asked.
"I don't know."
"Where's your car?"
Scott looked for his keys. They were on the entry table. This meant someone had brought him home.
He hadn't driven. His wallet was also there, untouched, with his cards and cash. His watch was still on his wrist.
Nothing was gone except three hours and his marriage.
"I don't know how I got home," Scott said.
"I need to make a call," Daniel said. "Don't talk to anyone else tonight. Not your father. No one."
"Audrey isn't answering."
"I know." His words were careful. "I'll take care of it. Don't sign anything tomorrow."
The call ended before Scott could ask what he meant about signing something.
He stood in the kitchen for a long time. The rose petals were still in the hallway. Audrey had put them there, and someone else had walked over them.
He bent down and picked up a handful.
Then he threw them in the trash, because there was nothing else to do.
He called his father at ten past nine. James Williams answered on the second ring.
"I already know," his father said. "Victoria called me an hour ago."
Scott gripped the phone tighter. "Victoria called you."
"Audrey's mother called me right after Audrey left. She wanted to keep things quiet."
His father's voice was calm and planned, like he was in a business meeting. "We can handle this, Scott. It doesn't have to become public."
"My wife left."
"Your wife is upset. That makes sense. What doesn't make sense is if this becomes a news story. Elena Chase is well-known.
If she talks about tonight, the newspapers will have it by morning."
"Then tell her not to talk to anyone."
"I already have." A pause. "There's a divorce lawyer who handles these things quietly. He'll prepare the papers.
Audrey will be taken care of, and everything will be sorted out before it affects the company."
The word 'divorce' hit him hard.
"I haven't agreed to a divorce."
"Scott." His father's voice got a little sharper. "You were found with another woman. Your wife saw it.
It doesn't matter what your side of the story is; the picture is the problem, not what really happened.
The company's board meets in three weeks. I won't have this brought up then."
"I'm going to find Audrey."
"You're going to let her calm down. Give her the weekend."
Scott hung up the phone.
He was at the door, jacket on, keys in hand. Then his personal email made a sound. He almost didn't check it.
He did it only because his company name was in the subject line, and it was ten at night, and only certain kinds of messages came at that time.
The sender was unknown. The subject line said: Before you look for her, you should know what she's already done.
The attachment opened to one document. It was a letter dated that evening, from forty-three minutes ago.
It was sent to Morrison and Drake, the company that had three of Williams Enterprises' most important contracts.
The letter was signed by Audrey Williams.
She had introduced herself as someone with secret knowledge about Williams Enterprises' upcoming lawsuits. She had asked for an urgent meeting.
Not a wife leaving in sadness. This was a move. Planned and already happening, just forty minutes after she left the building.
His phone rang. He looked at the screen. The number was blocked.
He answered.
"Mr. Williams." A woman's voice, quick and business-like.
"My name is Rachel Holt. I'm calling for Ms. Audrey Williams.
She wants me to tell you that she's getting her own lawyer, and all future talks should go through this office."
"She got a lawyer in the last hour."
"Ms. Williams is careful." There was a pause. "She also asked me to tell you, personally, that she won't be coming back to the penthouse.
The locks will be changed in the morning, as she owns part of the property."
The call ended.
Scott put down the phone.
The rose petals were in the trash. The champagne was still on the counter, unopened.
Somewhere in the city, his wife wasn't sad. She was getting ready for a fight.
And he still didn't remember how the night began.