My Husband Sent His Best Friend to Trap Me

The heavy oak door of the penthouse study was cracked just a quarter of an inch.

It was a tiny gap, but wide enough for the scent of rich Cuban tobacco to bleed into the marble hallway. Wide enough for Scarlett Dunn’s sickeningly sweet gardenia perfume to follow it.

I stood frozen in the dim corridor. The chilled glass of ice water in my hands rattled against my knuckles.

"Julian, you’re taking too long." Scarlett’s voice drifted through the narrow opening. She sounded irritated, yet coated in that practiced allure she always used around men.

"I’m reviewing the quarterly projections," Julian Mercer replied. His tone held the clipped, authoritative baritone I had woken up to for five years.

"Screw the projections." Fabric rustled. Silk sliding over the leather of his desk chair. She was sitting directly on his lap. "The divorce needs to happen before the fiscal year ends."

"I told you, I am handling the timeline."

"Your timeline is too slow," Scarlett complained. "If she takes half of your shares, we won't even be able to fund the Hamptons property. You promised me that estate, Julian. The one with the private dock."

"You’ll get your dock."

"When? I already picked out the interior designer. I refuse to keep putting them off."

"Keep your voice down." A crystal tumbler clinked against the mahogany desk. "I’m not giving that cold bitch a single dime of my fortune."

My fingers tightened around the glass. Condensation dripped down my wrist, soaking into the sleeve of my cashmere sweater.

"You say that, but her lawyers are going to tear you apart," Scarlett pushed. "The pre-nup only protects your liquid assets. She has a claim to the company."

"The pre-nup protects most of it," Julian corrected. "But a fault-based dissolution gets me full control of the trust. I just need her caught on tape."

"Caught on tape doing what? Stealing office supplies?" Scarlett let out a dry, condescending laugh. "Saint Elena doesn't even look at other men. She organizes your charity galas. She bakes cookies for the board members. It’s pathetic."

"She will look at Cole," Julian said coldly.

The name hit my chest like a physical blow.

"Cole Thorne?" Scarlett asked.

"Yes."

"Your best friend?" She sounded entirely amused now. "The guy who comes over for Sunday dinners? The golden boy?"

"He was my college roommate. Elena has always trusted him." Julian shifted in his chair, the leather groaning under his weight. "He’s the only man besides me she actually lets her guard down around."

"And you think he’s going to sleep with your wife just because you ask him to?"

"He’ll do it because I own him. I backed his tech firm two years ago. If I pull my funding now, he loses everything. He's desperate."

"What about her family?" Scarlett asked. "Her father still has connections in the city."

"Her father is retired and living in Florida. He doesn't have the capital to fund a legal battle against my firm," Julian replied smoothly.

"Still. He could make noise."

"Let him. Who is the judge going to believe? A retired old man defending his daughter, or high-definition photographs of her straddling another man?"

"You're terrible."

"I'm efficient."

"Is Cole fully on board? He always looks at her like she's made of glass."

"Cole will do what he's told. I reminded him yesterday about the balloon payment on his loan. He turned pale. He knows what's at stake."

"I almost feel sorry for him," Scarlett mocked.

"Don't. He's a grown man. He made his bed when he took my money. Now he has to lie in it. Literally."

"So, what’s the play?"

"I’m going to throw them together at the lake house next weekend." Julian’s voice dropped, turning conspiratorial and sharp. "I’ll tell Elena I need a weekend away, just the two of us. To reconnect. Then I’ll invite Cole. At the last minute, I’ll get called back to the city for a fabricated emergency."

"Leaving them alone in the woods."

"Exactly. I’ll make sure the wine cellar is fully stocked. Cole knows how to create the right atmosphere. He'll seduce her."

"Are you sure she’ll bite?" Scarlett challenged. "You just said she's a saint."

"She's been complaining that we're disconnected. She's lonely." Julian dismissed the concern with a scoff. "Cole is charming. Once my private investigator snaps the pictures of them in bed, Elena will walk away with nothing but public humiliation."

"What if she pushes him away? What if she locks her bedroom door?"

"Cole is resourceful. He just needs to get her clothes off. The investigator will handle the rest. The angles won't leave any room for doubt."

"Brilliant." Scarlett hummed, the sound vibrating through the heavy oak door. "And then?"

"Once the tabloids plaster her face everywhere as a cheating whore, she won't dare fight me in court. She hates conflict. When she sees those photos, she’ll sign whatever I put in front of her just to make it go away."

"You really thought of everything, didn't you?"

"I always do."

"Kiss me."

The wet, heavy sound of their mouths meeting echoed through the crack. It was sloppy. Arrogant.

Air stalled in my lungs. My chest tightened, squeezing my heart until it ached.

Five years of marriage. Five years of playing the devoted, supportive wife behind Julian’s corporate ascent. I had managed his home, smiled at his clients, and defended him when rumors of his late nights first surfaced.

And this was his endgame.

He had not only brought his childhood sweetheart back into his bed, but he was also planning to use his closest friend to frame me as an adulteress.

I looked down at the glass of water.

I should have stormed in. I should have thrown the freezing liquid right into Scarlett’s perfectly contoured face. I should have screamed until my throat bled.

But a strange, quiet laugh slipped past my lips instead.

It barely made a sound. Just a puff of air in the empty corridor.

The shock burning through my chest stopped. The heat vanished. A lethal, razor-sharp calm settled over my skin.

"I hate sneaking around," Scarlett murmured, breaking the kiss. "I saw her shoes in the foyer. It makes my skin crawl knowing she walks these halls."

"She won't be here much longer."

"She moved my favorite vase. The one I bought you in Paris."

"I'll have the maid move it back."

"You shouldn't have to have the maid do it. You should just kick her out tonight."

"We've been over this, Scarlett. If I just kick her out, she files for divorce on her terms. She gets half. Do you want half a life, or do you want the whole thing?"

"I want the whole thing."

"Then let me execute the plan."

"Fine. But I want her gone by the end of the month. I'm tired of playing the secret."

"You won't be a secret for long."

I took a slow, silent step back onto the plush Persian runner.

My husband thought I was weak. He thought I hated conflict so much that I would just roll over and let him destroy me.

He thought he knew exactly how I would react.

I turned away from the door, my footsteps making absolutely no sound on the thick wool carpet.

Julian wanted a war. He wanted to play games with my life, my reputation, and my future.

He had no idea who he was dealing with.

If he wanted to throw me to the wolves at the lake house, I would gladly go.

I reached the end of the hallway and poured the ice water into the soil of a potted fern.

I wouldn't be the one getting eaten. But I would definitely make sure Julian choked on his own trap.