All Yours, Daddies

The bedroom door clicks open. I freeze mid-step, my laptop bag still hanging from my shoulder.

They're tangled in sheets that aren't mine...Julian's bare chest gleaming under the afternoon light, my assistant's blonde hair spilling across his pillow. The pillow I haven't slept on in weeks.

Time stops. My heart doesn't.

It slams against my ribs like it's trying to break free, escape this moment, rewind to when I didn't know.

Julian's eyes find mine. No shock. No shame. Just irritation, like I've interrupted something tedious.

'Ilana.' His voice is flat. 'You're home early.'

My assistant...former assistant...pulls the sheet higher, but not before I see the bite marks on her collarbone. Fresh. Purple.

'I want a divorce.' The words come out steady. Too steady. Like someone else is speaking through my mouth.

Julian doesn't even bother to cover himself. He swings his legs off the bed, stands there in nothing but black boxer briefs. The body I once worshipped now makes my stomach turn.

'No.'

That's it. Just no. Like I've asked him to pass the salt.

'What do you mean, no?' My voice cracks. Damn it.

He walks toward me, and I step back. The hallway wall hits my spine.

'I mean,' he says, stopping inches from me, 'we're not getting divorced, Ilana. We're going to have an open marriage instead.'

I laugh. Actually laugh. The sound comes out broken, jagged.

'An open marriage.'

'Yes.' He crosses his arms, like we're negotiating a business deal. 'You can fuck whoever you want. I'll do the same. Everyone wins.'

'Everyone wins,' I repeat. My hands are shaking. I clench them into fists. 'You're insane.'

'I'm practical.' He leans against the doorframe. Behind him, the blonde is pulling on her clothes, moving fast. Smart. 'Think about Aethel, Ilana. Our company. Six years you poured into it. You really want to watch me take it all in a divorce?'

My blood goes cold.

'You can't...'

'I can.' His smile is knife-sharp. 'Check the paperwork. I made sure of it. You get the divorce, I get Aethel. Every client. Every contract. Every dollar you bled for.'

No. No, he can't. But even as I think it, I know he's right. I was so in love when we started the company, I signed everything he put in front of me. Trusted him with my whole stupid heart.

'And Rio,' Julian continues, his voice dropping to mock concern. 'Your dear brother. How's he doing? Still rebuilding after that scandal? Shame if something else went wrong. If someone, say, leaked information about his past mistakes to the right people...'

Rage floods through me, hot and vicious.

'Don't you dare bring Rio into this.'

'Then don't make me.' He straightens, walks past me down the hall. 'Open marriage, Ilana. Or I take everything. Your choice.'

I stand there for five minutes after he leaves. Maybe ten. The blonde is long gone. The sheets are still tangled, still warm.

My phone buzzes. A text from Julian: *Think about it. You have until tonight.*

I delete it. Then I walk to his side of the bed and start stripping the sheets.

My hands move on autopilot...pulling, yanking, throwing everything into a pile on the floor. The pillowcases. The duvet. All of it.

When I'm done, I sit on the bare mattress and finally, finally let myself feel it.

The betrayal. The humiliation. The rage.

Julian thinks I'm weak. Thinks I'll just accept this. Roll over and let him fuck whoever he wants while I smile and pretend everything's fine.

He's wrong.

I pull myself up, walk to the door. Turn back one last time to look at the room that used to be ours.

Then I head to the master bedroom...my bedroom now...and open my closet.

Way in the back, pushed behind conservative blazers and silk blouses, hangs a dress. Red. Tight. Scandalously short. I bought it on a whim three years ago, wore it once to a club with friends. Julian hated it. Said I looked like I was trying too hard.

'Perfect,' I whisper.

The dress fits better than I remember. Tighter. The red fabric clings to every curve, and for the first time in months, I don't feel like hiding.

I do my makeup heavy. Dark eyes. Red lips to match the dress. Hair down, loose waves falling past my shoulders.

In the mirror, I barely recognize myself. Good.

Julian's words echo in my head: *'You're boring. A vanilla pillow princess. No man would want you.'*

We'll see about that.

I grab my keys, my phone, and walk out. Don't look back.

The Onyx Lounge is the kind of place where the elite go to pretend they're normal. Where CEOs and celebrities hide in private booths, where nobody asks questions.

Perfect.

I park my car and step out into the cool night air. The bass from inside thrums through the sidewalk.

Tonight, I'm going to prove Julian wrong.

Tonight, I'm going to find someone who wants me.

Even if it's just for one night.