Chapter 10: The Unveiling
The cold dread that had settled in Lara’s stomach after James left lingered, a bitter aftertaste to the humiliation she’d endured. She spent the rest of the night in a fog, the luxurious walls of her penthouse feeling less like a sanctuary and more like the confines of a trap. When Albert finally returned home, late as usual, she expected his usual perfunctory kiss, his mind already drifting to tomorrow’s deals. What she got instead sent a jolt of ice through her veins.
He didn't head straight to the bedroom. Instead, he stopped in the living room, where Lara sat rigid on the sofa, nursing a glass of untouched wine. He turned on a single lamp, casting long, eerie shadows. His face, usually a mask of weary focus, was unreadable.
"Lara," he began, his voice flat, devoid of its usual warmth or irritation. "We need to talk."
Her heart hammered against her ribs. This was it. The end. James must have gone to him. Or Mang Gilbert. The whispers had become screams. She braced herself for the explosion, the accusations, the righteous fury. She even imagined the sting of his palm across her face.
But the explosion never came.
Albert walked to the ornate liquor cabinet, poured himself a generous measure of whiskey, and sat in the armchair opposite her, not looking at her. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
"I know," he said, finally, his voice still unnervingly calm. "I know about the tenants. About Nick. About James. About Clark." Each name was a hammer blow, yet his tone remained strangely neutral. "I've known for a while, actually. It's why I've been so busy lately, finding out everything."
Lara felt a dizzying mix of shame and disbelief. He knew. And he was so… calm. Her carefully constructed world, built on lies and secret desires, lay shattered at her feet, yet he showed no emotion. No anger. Just a profound, unsettling detachment.
He finally looked at her, his eyes like chips of flint. "Honestly, Lara, I'm not surprised. I’ve known for years that something was missing for you. From us. You’re… an expensive woman, Lara. Not just financially. You need attention. Excitement. And I haven't been able to give you that." He took a long swallow of whiskey. "My focus has been on building this empire, securing our future. And perhaps, I neglected your… needs."
Lara stared at him, speechless. This wasn't the furious, betrayed husband she’d anticipated. This was a man analyzing a business problem, assessing a deficit.
"So," he continued, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone, "I've been thinking about how we can manage this. Sustain it. Our image is important, Lara. And your… inclinations… they can be messy. But they can also be useful."
Lara frowned, utterly bewildered. "Useful? What are you talking about?"
Albert finally offered a faint smile, but it was cold, calculating. "The apartment complex, Lara. Fifty doors, as you often say. And fifty tenants who rely on us. Some of them are always late with rent, aren't they? Nick, for example. And James, well, he's a special case, always looking for a handout." He took another sip of whiskey, his gaze lingering on her. "What if your… extracurricular activities… could actually benefit us? A mutually beneficial arrangement, you might say."
Lara felt a tremor of true fear, colder than any humiliation. "What are you proposing, Albert?"
His eyes gleamed with a chillingly pragmatic light. "Think of it as… a special kind of payment. For certain tenants who are having trouble meeting their obligations. A waiver, perhaps, in exchange for… exclusive services. Services only you can provide." He paused, letting the implication sink in, watching her reaction. "It’s efficient. It keeps things in-house. And it ensures discretion."
He stood up, walking towards the large window overlooking the quiet compound. "I’ve already spoken with Nick. He’s eager to please, desperate to keep his unit. And James, well, he’s always up for a good time, especially when it costs him nothing. It just needs… a little supervision, to make sure everyone understands the terms." He turned back to her, his smile widening, completely devoid of warmth. "Tomorrow night. Nick will be here. And Clark too. I want to see you play for me, Lara. I want to see you make them earn their rent. Just like you've been doing."
Lara felt a wave of nausea. This wasn't just a betrayal; it was a perversion. Her private game, her fleeting moments of perceived power, had been exposed, analyzed, and now, commodified by her own husband. He didn't mind her cheating; he wanted to profit from it. He wasn't enraged by her infidelities; he wanted to be the conductor of her darkest desires. The air in the room suddenly felt impossibly heavy, the jasmine scent now suffocating. The keys she thought she held were now turning in locks she never knew existed, trapping her in a gilded cage far more terrifying than the one she had tried to escape.
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