Roxanne offered him a sharp, teasing smile. "You are absolutely dying to know, aren’t you?" she said, her tone taunting. "Why don’t you let me worry about that part. Just give me the video."
Christian’s brows knit into a tight scowl. "Then I don’t want the job anymore. I don’t give a damn about it," he barked. "I just want my wife back under my roof. I want you, Roxanne."
"And how exactly do you plan to afford this roof without an income?" Roxanne asked smoothly. Her smile widened as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs to look him directly in the eyes. "I know exactly why you’re panicking like this, Christian. Because for the first time in all these years, I am no longer beneath you. In fact, you desperately need me just to keep your life from falling apart."
Christian’s jaw clenched hard. "Stop talking down to me like that," he hissed.
Suddenly, the sharp vibration of a smartphone broke the heavy silence of the living room. Roxanne didn’t flinch, her gaze remaining locked onto his. Christian frowned deeply, reaching into the pocket of his robe to pull out his own device. He glanced at the blank screen, then looked back at her bag.
"It’s not mine," he said, his jaw hardening instantly. "Is that him calling you right now?"
Roxanne glanced toward her purse, then back to his angry face. "Yes," she answered simply. "He is calling to get your answer. What should I tell him?"
"Tell him that he will never have you! Not as long as I am breathing!" Christian roared, jumping to his feet. "I will do whatever it takes to drag you back to the woman you were before you met him. I will make sure you are mine and mine alone!"
Roxanne stared up at him for a long beat. Years ago, she would have given her absolute soul to hear him say he wanted her that fiercely. But now? The words just made a sick wave of nausea rise in her throat.
She stood up smoothly, lifting her leather bag and draping the strap securely over her shoulder. "It’s clear we aren’t even speaking the same language anymore," she said quietly. "I’m leaving."
Christian stepped directly into her path, his chest heaving. "No! You are not walking out that door!" he commanded, his hands visibly trembling. "I am not letting you run straight into his bed. You belong here, with me, as my wife. I don’t care what it takes."
Roxanne studied his ragged breathing and the desperate, wild look in his eyes. She knew him inside out; he was completely unravelling, driven by a toxic mix of panic and ruined pride.
Before she could utter a single warning, Christian lunged forward, throwing his arms around her waist and burying his face into her shoulder. Roxanne went entirely rigid, her spine straightening like steel, a mask of discomfort settling over her features as his weight crowded her.
"Have you completely forgotten how we started? How happy we were when we first fell in love?" Christian pleaded, pulling back just enough to grip her upper arms before burying himself against her neck again. "Remember, Roxanne. My Roxy. I am the love of your life. The only one who truly knows you."
Roxanne remained wooden in his embrace, her eyes wide, staring blankly at the wall behind him.
Suddenly, Christian pulled back entirely, a frantic look in his eyes. "Wait, there is something I need to show you. Just wait right here."
Before she could even reject the offer, he turned and sprinted up the hardwood stairs, his robe billowing behind him. Roxanne let out a long, shuddering breath, pressing the palm of her hand against her throbbing forehead.
"I need to get out of this house right now," she whispered, turning toward the locked front door.
But as she took a step, a faint, rhythmic buzzing caught her ear. She stopped, turning back to look at the sofa cushions where they had just been sitting. There it was. Christian’s smartphone lay face down on the leather.
She looked up at the empty landing of the stairs, then back down at the device, her fingers instinctively twitching against her bag.
Don’t do it, Roxanne, her mind screamed. Just leave. But a sharper voice cut through the panic. This is the only shot you will ever get.
Before another doubt could paralyze her, she darted across the room and snatched the phone off the cushion. An unrecognized number was actively lighting up the screen. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs, her eyes widening.
What if this is the person who filmed us at the villa?
Working purely on survival instinct, she quickly memorized the digits, pulled her own phone from her purse, and typed the number into a blank draft message. Once saved, she went to drop his phone back onto the sofa, but the dark temptation hit her again. The video.
She glanced frantically toward the staircase, her fingers shaking as she swiped Christian’s screen open. She hesitated for only a second before entering the familiar birthday she’d watched him use for years and dived into his messaging apps.
Nothing. No attachments in his recents. Her heart thudded violently in her throat as she opened his media gallery instead.
Right there, at the very top of the download folder, was a raw video file.
Roxanne tapped it, and the screen instantly filled with a high-definition view of the villa corridor. Her face went entirely bloodless as she watched the footage of herself pinned against the wall, lost in Richard’s embrace. She slammed a hand over her mouth, a heavy wave of disbelief knocking the wind right out of her lungs. It was real.
The sound of a heavy door shutting upstairs snapped her back to reality. Footsteps heavy on the floorboards above. He was coming back.
With trembling thumbs, she hit the three dots in the corner of the video player and smashed the delete button.
A prompt popped up instantly on the screen: Are you sure you want to permanently delete this file?
She lifted her thumb, her heart roaring in her ears as she aimed for the word Yes. Her thumb hovered over it. One tap. One tap and the leverage was gone forever.
"What are you doing with my phone?" Christian’s voice sliced through the quiet room like a razor, freezing her finger a mere millimeter above the glass.
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