Chapter 13 Chapter 13 The Plan Before Hand
Rebecca’s POV
People who bring unhappiness often don’t realize the depth of hurt they cause. Only the person suffering truly knows. And for me, the grief of my mother’s loss has yet to release its grip on my heart.
It should have been a clear, blue-sky morning—a refreshing one, filled with a solemn breeze and all. But it wasn’t. My emotions, my heart, and my soul were drowning in grief.
The night before, I dreamt about my mother. She appeared in my dream, smiling with her big heart and loving expression. She was a good mother. Even after all my disobedience and poor choices, she was there for me when I was at my lowest.
I wish I had listened to her warnings. If only I hadn’t disobeyed and married that son of a bitch. Perhaps she would still be alive, and we’d be living peacefully and in good health. But he killed her, indirectly yet absolutely. And he thinks I could forgive him so easily?
Last night, he sent me a text, and I could almost taste his desperation. For someone who tried to kill me and did kill my mother—though not directly—he should have known better than to try winning me over now. He should have realized I’m coming for him now that I have the power. But no! I guess he’s too dumb to see what’s coming.
Reading his message, I smirked and immediately showed it to Natasha. She smirked as well. What a fool. Don’t they say a foolish man at forty is a fool forever?
I texted him back, playing on his emotions: “Nice meeting you too, darling. See you tomorrow at 7 PM, Luscious Lounge.”
I threw in the word “darling” on purpose. A fool like him would think I’d already fallen for him again. He’d probably be thrilled, seeing butterflies and counting the minutes until we met.
As dusk set in, Natasha helped me choose a new outfit—a gown meant to make me look even sexier. And by sexier, I don’t mean one of those modest, noble dresses from a fairy tale.
No, I wanted a gown with a high slit up the thigh, one that gave a daring peek of cleavage, with no bra underneath and an open back.
To complete the look, I added a bold red lipstick that suited the occasion perfectly.
A few minutes before 7 PM, I was in the limo, my chauffeur driving me leisurely toward the Luscious Lounge.
I put on my customized earbud to keep in contact with Natasha. Twenty minutes later, we pulled up in front of the lounge.
The Luscious Lounge was the kind of place that didn’t have a set theme. Sometimes it was decorated as an open, airy space. Other nights, it transformed into a dim, intimate setting—almost like a place meant for hookups and casual flings. Tonight, it looked even more risqué, with dim red lights and waitresses dressed in bum shorts and bras.
As I stepped inside, I quickly spotted Gabriel. He was already there, sipping wine. His desperation clung to him like an unpleasant smell. I smirked, feeling a dark satisfaction.
The moment he saw me, he rose to his feet, smiling as if he’d just seen an angel, and walked over to hug me.
When he did, I hugged him back, making sure his chest didn’t touch mine. His cologne—or whatever he’d drenched himself in—was strong. He smelled decent, but if I cared about that, I’d be lying.
“I hope you don’t mind. I ordered a bottle of wine before you arrived,” he said with an awkward smile.
Did he really think I needed to hear that? “Of course, I can see that,” I replied, watching his expression falter slightly.
“Oh, of course you can. Please forgive me,” he apologized, acting as if he’d done something wrong.
Scoff.
He was trying so hard to please me now, in every possible way—in his words, his actions. And all it did was make me scoff.
When we were married, this bastard never put in an ounce of effort to please me. I was the one doing everything. I cooked for him, washed his clothes, adored his dead mother, and slept with him like there was no tomorrow. I was always the one tucking him into bed whenever he felt stressed.
After everything, he had the audacity to cheat on me, to try and kill me, and to drive my mother to her death. And he thinks he can win me back?
Scoff!
“A chicken pepper soup and a beer,” I said to the waiter passing by, catching a surprised look from Gabriel.
He had never seen me drink before. He probably didn’t even know I could drink. In all honesty, I hadn’t been the type. But things had changed. He had no idea what I was capable of now.
“So, how’s your wife?” I asked him suddenly, catching him completely off guard. His face fell as he froze, clearly not expecting that question, as if he had just lost his voice.
Silence hung between us, and I took in his reaction, savoring his shock. It was delightful to see him so rattled.
“It… uh…” he stammered, unable to form a coherent answer.
The very man who had once spoken so confidently is now stumbling over words. I watched him squirm, pretending to wait patiently for his answer, but inside, I was reveling in his discomfort.
“Well?” I prompted, raising an eyebrow, daring him to speak.
Finally, he managed to say, “We’re… not really together anymore.”
“Oh? How unfortunate,” I replied with feigned sympathy. “Seems like you’re paying for your sins after all.”
His expression grew tense, and I could see a flicker of guilt cross his face. This right here, was what I wanted. To see him crumble under the weight of his own decisions.
“Well, shall we toast?” I said, raising my glass. “To lost loves and broken promises.”
He clinked his glass with mine, his hand trembling slightly.
I took a sip, keeping my gaze locked on his.
As I took another slow sip, savoring the bitterness of the wine on my tongue, I leaned closer, letting him feel my breath on his skin. "I have a surprise for you," I whispered, watching his eyes widen, a flicker of hope surfacing in his gaze.
He stammered, "What... what kind of surprise?"
I smirked, leaning back and crossing my legs slowly. "Oh, Gabriel, it's something you've been waiting for." I paused, letting the silence hang thick between us. "But you’ll have to wait until our next meeting."
Leaving him visibly unnerved and hungry for more, I stood up without a backward glance. "Enjoy your night," I threw over my shoulder, feeling the thrill of control surge through me.
As I walked away, I heard his voice, uncertain and almost pleading, “Rebecca, wait… what do you mean?”
But I didn’t stop. Not yet. Let him wonder what’s coming next.