Chapter 20 Mutual Infidelity
Elizabeth pushed Timothy away.
He let her go without resistance. She was ready to snap at him, but then her eyes caught the faint smear of her lipstick on his mouth.
"What's that supposed to mean? Trying to wreck Armando's marriage?"
Her tone dripped with sarcasm.
Timothy leaned back on the sofa, a lazy smile curling his lips. His white robe hung loose, revealing a sculpted chest that drew the eye.
"You want to crash here, isn't that what you're after? Seduce me, cheat on him? He just called—what did he say? Something that got under your skin?"
Elizabeth stayed silent. He was annoyingly perceptive.
The truth was, for a fleeting moment, she had thought about revenge.
Women could be petty that way.
"It's not just me cheating," she said finally, her voice cool. "He's already cheated on our marriage. We're just leveling the playing field."
The defiance in her eyes was new, born from weeks of being cornered by Armando and his circle.
Timothy stared at her, half amused, half exasperated. And maybe, just maybe, he liked it.
"Hold on."
He picked up his phone and called someone. "Bring me a crown… No, make it one with fake jewels."
Elizabeth blinked. "A crown?"
Ten minutes later, Nico arrived, panting, with a gaudy plastic tiara glittering under the light.
Timothy pressed her down into the sofa, slipped it onto her head, and chuckled. "Queen of Infidelity. You should wear it every day."
Elizabeth's lips curved into a frosty smile. Her neck arched like a queen's. "Maybe I was just born beautiful."
Timothy let out a low laugh. "Yeah… you were."
"Elizabeth, why don't you be with me?" The question came out of nowhere, direct and sharp.
It caught her off guard.
"With me, you'd outrank Armando. You could hold your head high. And I'm a decent guy."
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Decent?"
He nodded, dead serious.
She decided not to crush his self-image—at least not yet.
"First, I've already been married once. That comes with baggage. Second, you're Armando's elder. People would raise eyebrows if you both married the same woman. And last… my heart isn't capable of loving anyone right now."
She plucked the crown off her head, her smile turning wicked. "From now on, I'll take men only for physical pleasure. I make a million dollars a year. When I'm bored, I can keep a young, handsome man on the side."
Timothy froze, her words slamming into him. "Only for physical needs?" he repeated.
She nodded firmly. "Yes."
"A million a year… and you'd keep a young guy for fun?" he echoed again.
Her cheeks flushed but she didn't look away. "Yes."
"Elizabeth, you're something else," he said, laughing darkly.
He scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom, his grin edged with danger. "Let's see if you like my flavor."
Timothy's stamina was brutal, relentless. By the end, Elizabeth was drained, but still clung to the thought that she needed to wash up and remove her makeup.
He kissed away the last of her lipstick before taking her to the shower.
The next morning, she woke alone. Relief washed over her.
On the nightstand lay a neatly folded long-sleeved dress and matching undergarments. She dressed, glanced in the mirror, and winced at the marks on her skin.
Stepping out, she found Timothy in the middle of a video conference. He looked up briefly.
She pointed at the door. "I'm leaving."
Without missing a beat, he said, "Don't forget to transfer my… sponsorship fee."
Elizabeth stared at him, speechless.
On the other end of the call, the men in the conference paused. None reacted beyond a respectful silence.
"Got it," came her husky reply.
"There's breakfast on the table. Eat before you go."
She nodded and left him to his meeting.
Halfway through her meal, she decided she'd better leave quickly. Timothy's face darkened when he saw her rush out—it felt too much like she was walking away from what had happened without taking any responsibility.
At the Johnson Group, Elizabeth had been absent for days. Now, the backlog was crushing, and she was spinning from one task to the next.
Armando's tense expression had finally eased. A good secretary could make a boss twice as efficient—that was why he'd insisted she return.
While she was buried in work, Tom approached her desk, his face grim. "Ms. Penrose, book six tickets to Oceancrest City immediately. The plant there caught fire."
"On it." She booked the flights, then prepared to collect their things from Emerald Park and pack emergency supplies.
The fire was devastating—nine dead, fifteen seriously injured. Money losses were secondary.
Timothy texted her, asking if she wanted to grab lunch. She was already boarding the plane.
Elizabeth: [On a business trip. Can't.]
For the next several days, Timothy heard nothing from her. He caught sight of her on the news instead—standing tall in a crisp shirt and tailored pants beside Armando.
A reporter shoved a mic toward Armando. Elizabeth stepped forward, shielding him. "Thank you, everyone. Please make way. The interview is over."
Timothy raised an eyebrow and sent her a message.
Timothy: [So... have I slipped your mind?]
Elizabeth was too busy to check her phone. She was juggling angry families, injured workers, and relentless media.
"Mr. Johnson, Mrs. Johnson… my daughter Pippa is so young, and now she has no father. My health is failing—if I die, what happens to her?" cried Kaia, a middle-aged woman in the crowd.
Her voice was raw, breaking. Moments later, she collapsed.
Chaos erupted. Tom called for an ambulance.
Armando leaned close to Elizabeth. "Get in the car. I'll handle this—it's too dangerous here."
Meanwhile, Sherry was watching a broadcast, her eyes fixed on Armando and Elizabeth speaking together. Her jaw tightened. She picked up her phone.
"Tatum, book me a ticket to Oceancrest City. Today."
She was going there herself.