Seducing My Sister's Husband after Betrayal

I spent the entire morning decorating our mansion with white roses—Aiden's favorite. Three years of marriage, and I still remembered the little things that made his eyes light up.

"Mrs. Prescott, would you like me to help with the candles?" Elena, our housekeeper, stood in the doorway, her kind eyes watching me with something like concern.

"No thank you, Elena. I want to do everything myself." I smiled, placing another framed photo on the mantelpiece. "It's his birthday. I want it to be special."

My husband worked hard and rarely took time to celebrate anything, even his own birthday. Tonight would be different.

"The chef will arrive at five, Mrs. Prescott," Elena reminded me as I checked my watch. "And the cake is already in the refrigerator."

"Perfect." I beamed at her. "I just need to pick up his gift, and then everything will be ready."

The jewelry store was my last stop. As the jeweler handed me the elegantly wrapped package, I felt a flutter of excitement.

"He's a lucky man, Mrs. Prescott," the jeweler said with a warm smile.

"I'm the lucky one," I replied automatically, believing it with my whole heart.

But until Nine o'clock. The house grew quiet as Elena reluctantly left for the night. I sat alone at the dining table, the untouched place settings mocking my efforts. The roses seemed less vibrant now, their perfume cloying in the silent house.

Something cold and heavy settled in my stomach—a feeling I'd been fighting all evening. This wasn't like Aiden. Even on his busiest days, he at least called.

Unless...

I pushed the thought away. No. He wouldn't forget. Not completely. There had to be an explanation.

The drive to Prescott Enterprises took twenty minutes. The imposing glass building stood illuminated against the night sky, a testament to Aiden's success.

The security guard recognized me immediately. "Mrs. Prescott! Working late tonight?"

"Just surprising my husband," I replied, forcing a smile. "Is he still here?"

"Yes, ma'am. His car's in the executive garage."

Relief washed over me. At least I knew where he was now. As I rode the elevator to the top floor, I rehearsed what I would say. I wouldn't be angry or accusatory. I would understand. I always understood.

The executive floor was eerily quiet, most offices dark except for the soft glow coming from the end of the hallway—Aiden's private suite.

I was about to knock when I heard voices. Aiden wasn't alone.

"We can't keep doing this, Lucia," Aiden's voice, low and intimate in a way I'd rarely heard it lately.

Lucia. My sister. And my husband Aiden.

What’s that?