Chapter 64 The First Confrontation
Elena barely slept. The words Marcus had murmured in his sleep kept echoing through her mind like a poison she could not purge. I love you, Lucy. She lay beside her husband as the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, watching his chest rise and fall. He looked peaceful, yet the man she thought she knew now felt like a stranger sharing her bed. When Marcus finally stirred and reached for her out of habit, she stiffened and pulled away.
“Morning,” he said, voice rough with sleep. He tried to pull her closer, but she sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.
“We need to talk.” Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “Right now.”
Marcus rubbed his face, already sensing the storm coming. Down the hallway, Lucy’s door creaked open just a fraction. She had heard her mother’s tone and slipped silently toward the stairs, bare feet careful on the cool wood. She stopped just out of sight, heart hammering, listening.
Elena stood and pulled on her robe, arms wrapped tightly around herself. “Are you having an affair, Marcus?”
The question landed like a slap. Marcus froze halfway out of bed. For a second his face showed raw panic before he smoothed it into confusion. “What? Elena, where is this coming from?”
“Don’t.” She held up a hand, eyes glistening. “You whispered her name last night. Lucy. You said you loved her. In your sleep. While you were holding me.”
Marcus’s stomach dropped. He stood slowly, towering over her in just his boxers, the morning light highlighting every line of muscle and tension in his shoulders. “Baby, I was dreaming. You know how stressed we’ve all been with the fertility stuff. My mind is all over the place.”
Elena laughed bitterly, a sound that carried no humor. “Stressed? That’s what you’re calling it? I’ve seen the way you look at her. The way she looks at you. The texts. The long showers. The way the house smells like sex when I come home early.”
From her hiding spot at the top of the stairs, Lucy pressed a hand over her mouth. Her thighs still ached from last night. Marcus had fucked her so hard she could still feel the ghost of him inside her. Part of her wanted to run, but another darker part needed to hear how he would handle this.
Marcus stepped closer and reached for Elena’s hands. She let him take them, but her fingers remained limp. “I swear to you, Elena, I am not having an affair. Especially not with Lucy. She’s your daughter. Our daughter now. I know things have been strained, but I would never do that to you. To us.”
His voice sounded so sincere that even Lucy felt a flicker of doubt. He was good at this. The guilt that flashed across his face looked real because it was real. He hated himself for what he was doing, yet he could not stop. The pull toward Lucy had become something deeper than lust, something that terrified him.
Elena searched his eyes, desperate to believe him. “Then why does it feel like I’m losing you? Why do I feel like a guest in my own home?”
Marcus pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. Over her shoulder, his gaze locked onto the hallway. He saw the faint shadow where Lucy stood listening. Their eyes met for a brief, charged second. In that look passed everything they could not say: fear, hunger, warning, and need.
“I’m here,” he whispered into Elena’s hair. “I’m right here. We’re going to get through this. The treatments, the stress, all of it. Together.”
Lucy remained frozen at the top of the stairs, nails digging into her palms. Hearing Marcus deny her so convincingly sent a sharp pain through her chest, even though she understood why he had to. Yet the memory of him buried deep inside her just hours ago, groaning her name like a confession, made her pussy clench with fresh heat. The conflict tore at her. She loved her mother. She also craved Marcus with an intensity that scared her sometimes.
Elena pulled back from the hug and wiped her eyes. “I want to believe you. I really do. But something is wrong, Marcus. I can feel it in my bones.”
Marcus kissed her forehead, the perfect picture of a devoted husband. “Let me make you breakfast. We can talk more after. No secrets. I promise.”
As he led Elena toward the stairs, Lucy darted back into her room, heart racing. She pressed her back against the closed door, breathing hard. Her robe slipped open. Between her legs she was still wet, still tender. The risk of almost being caught only made the ache worse.
Elena insisted on changing the bedsheets herself after breakfast, needing something normal to do with her hands. Marcus had gone to his office to take a call, leaving her alone in the master bedroom. She stripped the bed methodically, trying to push away the doubt that refused to die.
When she opened the walk-in closet to grab fresh linens, something small and black caught her eye on the floor near Marcus’s suit jackets. She bent down and picked it up.
A bra. Lace. Tiny. Definitely not hers.
Elena stared at it, blood roaring in her ears. The size, the style, everything about it screamed Lucy. Her daughter’s favorite seductive piece. The one she had seen in the laundry basket multiple times.
Her fingers trembled as she held the delicate fabric. The scent of Lucy’s perfume still clung to it faintly, mixed with something unmistakably masculine. Marcus.
Tears burned in her eyes as the full weight of the betrayal crashed over her. She sank slowly onto the edge of the bed, clutching the bra in her lap like evidence from a crime scene.
Down the hall, Lucy’s door opened again. Footsteps approached.
Elena looked up just as her daughter appeared in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of her own bra in her mother’s hands.