Chapter 3-
Around 3 PM, the phone in Matheo’s study rang. Colette, though reluctant to get out of bed, felt a flicker of hope. Maybe it was Matheo calling to talk to her. She forced herself up and walked to the study, her heart pounding with a mixture of hope and dread. She picked up the receiver, her voice shaky. “Hello?”
It wasn’t Matheo. “Is Mr. Angelis there?” a hurried voice asked. The man introduced himself as Dereck.
“No, Matt isn’t home. He’s in Brisbane until tomorrow,” Colette replied, her tone flat and resigned. She was ready to end the call and retreat back to the comfort of her bed when Dereck’s response froze her in place.
He laughed. “Oh, is that what he told you?”
A cold drop of fear slithered down her spine. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of fear and anger lacing her words.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Colette could almost hear the gears turning in Dereck’s mind as he realized his slip. “What?” he stammered, before abruptly cutting the call.
Colette stood there, feeling foolish with the receiver still clutched in her hand. She stared at nothing in particular, her mind racing. She wanted to shout, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” into the dead line, to curse and scream to her heart’s content. But she knew it would be futile. The truth was already unraveling before her eyes, and it was ugly.
Matheo wasn’t in Brisbane. He had lied to her. The cold, hard reality hit her like a punch to the gut. He was back and somewhere close, likely with Iris. The thought of them together, preparing for another function, while she was left in the dark, was a bitter pill to swallow. The betrayal was suffocating, the pain unbearable.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she sank into the chair, the phone slipping from her grasp and clattering onto the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to hold the pieces of her shattered heart together. The walls of the study seemed to close in on her, the silence of the empty house amplifying her anguish.
Memories of happier times flooded her mind—their whirlwind romance, the passionate nights, the promises of forever. How had it all come to this? The man who had once showered her with love and attention now treated her like an afterthought, a disposable accessory. She felt a deep, gnawing emptiness inside her, a void that seemed impossible to fill.
She had always feared this day would come, but a part of her had clung to the hope that things could change, that Matheo would come to his senses and realize what he was losing. But now, the final thread of that hope had snapped. He was with Iris, and they were probably laughing at her expense, reveling in their secret while she was left to pick up the pieces of her broken life.
The realization was crushing. Colette’s sobs echoed through the study, each one a testament to the pain and betrayal she felt. She had given everything to Matheo—her love, her trust, her life—and he had thrown it all away for a lie.
It was the night of the St. Anthony Gala, a high-profile charity event run by some of the most powerful multibillion-dollar companies in Sydney. Charity, however, was merely the event’s secondary function. The real purpose was to gather A-list celebrities and wealthy business tycoons, those who could effortlessly spend a few meager millions on bite-sized hors d'oeuvres while networking and discussing business. For men like Matheo, this was where deals were made, alliances formed, and fortunes expanded. His company, still relatively new despite his billionaire status, thrived on these opportunities. He never missed such events, always striving to extend his empire, secure new clients, and accumulate even more wealth.
When Matheo had left the previous night, Colette had naively believed he would miss this year’s gala. She had clung to the hope that their marriage, their love, might finally take precedence over his relentless ambition. But the brief, revealing comment from Dereck on the phone had shattered that illusion. “Is that what he told you?” Those words echoed in her mind, each repetition a dagger to her heart. Matheo was back in Sydney, and he would be attending the gala, but not with her. He would be there with Iris.
Something inside Colette died at that moment. This was a new low, even for Matheo. Now, he had started lying to her outright. She knew why he had done it, though. If he had told her the truth, she would have insisted on attending the gala with him. He would have had to endure her presence, her attempts to reclaim some semblance of her place in his life, and the inevitable fight that would follow. Matheo didn’t want her anywhere near anything that was important to him. Colette was better locked away in the house, taken out only when he needed her, like a toy he could use at his convenience and then put back in her place.
Stupid Colette, she thought bitterly. Stupid Colette wasn’t allowed anywhere near his business, his office, or his clients. Those were precious and secret, reserved for him and his beloved Iris. The memory of the last time there had been such a gala was still vivid. She had begged and fought with him to let her go. At first, he had been adamantly against it. But when she had threatened to withhold the nightly sex that he so eagerly sought, he had reluctantly agreed.
Colette had arrived at that gala full of hope, determined to prove that she was more than just a trophy wife. She had dressed impeccably, wearing a dress that Matheo had once admired, her makeup flawless, her hair styled to perfection. But the night had been a cruel reminder of her insignificance in Matheo’s world. She had been ignored, left to stand on the sidelines while Matheo and Iris dominated every conversation, their chemistry undeniable, their partnership unbreakable. Iris had been the one by his side, charming the investors, laughing at his jokes, supporting him in every possible way. Colette had been nothing more than a shadow, a presence that neither Matheo nor his colleagues cared to acknowledge.
The memory of that night was etched deeply in Colette’s mind, a painful reminder of her place in Matheo’s world. It had been another high-profile event, much like the St. Anthony Gala, but this time she had fought tooth and nail to be there. She had convinced herself that attending such events was crucial to understanding and integrating into Matheo's life. She wanted to be more than just the wife who waited at home; she wanted to be his partner in every sense.
She had spent hours preparing for that night, choosing the perfect dress, doing her makeup meticulously, and styling her hair to perfection. When Matheo had finally agreed to take her, albeit reluctantly, her heart had soared with hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was her chance to show him and everyone else that she was more than just a pretty face, more than just an accessory to his success.
The night had started well enough. She had held Matheo’s arm tightly, feeling a mixture of pride and anxiety as they entered the grand ballroom. The room was filled with Sydney’s elite, people who exuded confidence and sophistication. Matheo had introduced her to several of his colleagues and investors, his grip on her arm never loosening. It was a small comfort, a silent promise that he wouldn’t let her falter.
Then came the moment that would haunt her forever. They had been standing in a circle with a group of investors, the conversation flowing smoothly around business ventures and market trends. Colette had listened intently, trying to absorb as much as she could. But when one of the men mentioned someone named Giotto, she saw her chance to contribute, to show she could be part of their world.
“Oh, Giotto,” she had said, her voice bright with what she had hoped was a charming anecdote. “My high school friend had a pony named Giotto.”
The silence that followed was deafening. She felt the eyes of the group fixate on her, the weight of their judgment pressing down like a physical force. She realized too late that she had made a grave mistake. The Giotto they were discussing was a renowned economist, not some childhood pony. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as the seconds stretched on.
Then Iris had laughed, a loud, mocking sound that shattered the silence and made Colette flinch. “Clearly, Mrs. Angelis is joking,” Iris had said, her tone dripping with condescension. A few others joined in, their laughter awkward and forced, trying to mask the discomfort Colette’s blunder had caused.
“Clearly,” Colette had muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. Her face was flushed with shame, her eyes stinging with unshed tears as she met the gaze of the people around her. She could feel Matheo’s grip on her arm tighten, a silent command to stay calm, to not make things worse.
Matheo had quickly steered the conversation away from her gaffe, seamlessly shifting the focus back to business. But the damage was done. Colette had excused herself as soon as she could, fleeing to the bathroom where she locked herself in a stall and let the tears flow. She sat there, hunched over, trying to gather the pieces of her shattered dignity. The sounds of the gala outside were muted, but they felt like they were a world away.
She had spent what felt like an eternity in that bathroom, waiting until she was sure her emotions were under control. When she finally emerged, she made a silent vow to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the night. Matheo must have sensed her fragility because he didn’t let her out of his sight after that. He kept her by his side, his arm around her waist like a cage, preventing her from making any more mistakes.
He never said a word about it to her, never mentioned how embarrassed he must have been. But Colette knew. She saw it in the way he interacted with her afterward, the subtle shift in his demeanor. He never offered to take her to any of his business functions again, and she never insisted. How could she? After the way she had humiliated him, she felt she had no right to.
The memory of that night lingered, a constant reminder of her inadequacy. She replayed the scene in her mind, torturing herself with what she could have done differently. Each time, the pain was as fresh as if it had just happened. She had wanted so desperately to be part of Matheo’s world, but that night had shown her that she would never truly belong. Not in the way Iris did. Not in the way Matheo wanted her to.
Tonight would be no different. Matheo would attend the gala with Iris, and they would be the perfect couple, the power duo that everyone admired. Meanwhile, Colette would be here, in this cold, empty house, a prisoner of her own despair. The realization was suffocating, the betrayal too deep to bear. Her heart ached with a pain so intense it felt physical, a crushing weight that left her gasping for breath.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, her body trembling with a mixture of rage and sorrow. Tears streamed down her face, but she made no move to wipe them away. What was the point? The man she had loved with all her heart, the man she had trusted implicitly, had chosen another over her. He had lied to her, betrayed her, and now he was flaunting that betrayal in the most public way possible.
But this was new! Now, he had started lying to her. So, that he could attend the gala with Iris without his "stupid, unreasonable" wife demanding to be taken to a public place with him? He wouldn’t want that burden on him now, would he?
No, Iris would look much better in his arms, cool and sophisticated, with her intellectual talks to charm his potential investors. She knew the ins and outs of his business and it wouldn’t be the first time he had taken her to such events. The thought made Colette’s stomach churn. But tonight, something snapped inside her. The dead flower of her heart, long withered from neglect and betrayal, turned to a crisp. She had been humiliated, shamed, hidden away in secret, and lied to. Matheo had been afraid she would embarrass him? Now she would show him what true embarrassment felt like.
Maybe her marriage was over. Maybe her husband had only ever wanted her for one thing: sex. If that was the case, then tonight, she would be the epitome of sex. She would get ready to seduce him in public, and the whole world would see the actual of their marriage before she left him forever.
If he wanted her as the whore, he will get the whore.