Chapter 5: Please Stop Going Beast Mode In The Discord

The morning sun filtering through the curtains feels warm on my face as I sit on the edge of the bed, watching Claire get ready for work.

I can’t help but feel a pang of sadness as I watch her. Last night was incredible, hours of passionate lovemaking that left us both breathless and exhausted. But now, in the harsh light of day, I’m reminded of the strange situation I’ve found myself in. This woman, my supposed wife, is still essentially a stranger to me.

“I’m gonna miss you,” I say softly, the words feeling both true and false at the same time.

Claire pauses, her hand hovering over her collar. She turns to me, a gentle smile playing on her lips. As she unpops her collar, she says, “Honey, you’re still recovering. Why don’t you go back to bed?”

“I don’t feel tired.” I say.

Her eyes sparkle with a mixture of affection and concern. “You were insatiable last night,” she adds, a hint of pride in her voice. “I’ve never felt so wanted before.”

I feel heat rising to my cheeks, memories of our passionate night flooding back. “Yeah, it was... intense.”

Claire’s smile widens, a mischievous glint in her eye. “It certainly was,” she purrs. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Claire finishes buttoning her blouse and smooths out the fabric, her movements precise and practiced. She turns to me, her warm brown eyes searching my face.

“What are you gonna do for the day?” she asks, her tone casual but tinged with curiosity.

I run a hand through my disheveled hair, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle on my shoulders.

“I honestly have no idea,” I admit, my voice soft and a little lost.

Claire’s expression softens, a mixture of sympathy and understanding crossing her features. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against my arm in a gesture of comfort.

“Well, there’s plenty of food in the house,” she says, her voice taking on a reassuring tone. “And I gave you my number if you have an emergency.”

I nod, grateful for the information, even as I feel a twinge of embarrassment at needing such basic instructions. “Yes,” I reply, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. “I guess I’ll try to get my bearings.”

Claire leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. The gesture is tender, filled with an affection I’m not sure I’ve earned. “Alright then,” she murmurs as she pulls away.

She heads towards the door. Her shoes click against the hardwood floor, the sound echoing in the quiet house. As she reaches for the doorknob, she pauses, turning back to me.

“I’m leaving now,” she says, her voice carrying a hint of reluctance.

“Goodbye,” I respond, watching as she opens the door, letting in a sliver of the bright morning sun.

Claire hesitates in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the golden light. “I love you,” she says softly, the words hanging in the air between us.

I don’t say it back. I can’t. The words stick in my throat, refusing to come out. It’s not that I don’t care for her. I do, in a way. But love? I hardly know her. That feels like too much, too soon. Too dishonest.

Claire’s face falls almost imperceptibly at my silence, a flicker of hurt crossing her features before she quickly masks it with a smile. “See you tonight,” she says, her voice slightly strained, and then she’s gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

I sit in the empty house, the silence pressing in around me. The weight of Claire’s unreciprocated “I love you” hangs in the air, making me feel like an imposter in someone else’s life.

‘Well, I am, so that’s fair.’

With a sigh, I grab my phone. It’s set up, but I don’t know any of my accounts or anything, so it’s like starting life from scratch. I don’t even open it. I just stare at the blank screen, my reflection distorted in the glass.

“Might as well get out of the house,” I mutter to myself. “Sitting here feeling sorry for myself isn’t gonna help.”

I remember seeing a subway stop not far from here when Claire drove us home. I could head into Boston, maybe walk around a bit, try to get my heading in this new life.

“Shoot, I’ve got no money, though,” I realize, patting my empty pockets.

I head into our bedroom to see if I keep money anywhere or even a wallet. It seems all that stuff got stolen during the attack. I’m rummaging through drawers when I notice the Birkin bag sitting open on the dresser.

I peer inside, curiosity getting the better of me. To my surprise, there’s a thick envelope tucked inside. I pull it out, my eyes widening as I see what’s inside.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, thumbing through the stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills. There must be thousands of dollars here.

“Well, there’s no fucking way I can just accept this cash,” I mutter to myself, shoving the envelope back into the bag.

I pace around the bedroom, running my hands through my hair. This is insane. Who gives someone they barely know a bag full of cash? And why would Caterina give this to me, her employee’s husband?

But then I remember Claire’s reaction when I tried to refuse the gifts. She seemed resigned, almost afraid. Like refusing wasn’t an option.

“Maybe there’s something I’m missing here,” I say to the empty room.

I look at the bag again. I really look at it this time. It’s beautifully crafted, the leather supple, and clearly expensive. I’ve never been into fashion, but even I can tell this is high-end.

“I know some purses can go for like two thousand,” I muse, picking up my new phone.

I open the browser and type “Birkin bag price” into the search bar. As the results load, my eyes widen, and my jaw literally drops open.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?” I exclaim, my voice echoing through the empty house.

The minimum price for a Birkin bag is $20,000. MINIMUM. Some of them go for over $100,000. I can’t tell which one mine is.

‘I don’t even want the damn thing.’

And Claire must have known that. She didn’t even bat an eye when her boss’s lackey handed me a bag potentially worth more than most cars.

I sink down onto the bed, my mind reeling. Claire didn’t try to stop me from accepting a gift worth tens of thousands of dollars from her boss. What kind of relationship does she have with Caterina? What kind of power does this woman hold over my wife?

“How could Claire owe my sister money if Caterina is this kind of person.” I wonder.

“I guess I can take the cash then,” I say weakly, “if Claire let me take a purse worth a small fortune, It’s not like it really matters at that point.”

I reach into the bag and pull out the envelope again, the weight of the cash heavy in my hands. As I do, I notice something else inside the bag, a small, folded note tucked into an inner pocket.

With trembling fingers, I unfold it, revealing elegant handwriting in deep red ink:

Adam,

A small token to help you adjust to your new life. Consider it the first of many gifts. There’s so much I want to give you.

Call me anytime. Your phone already has my number.

- Cat

“What the fuck is going on here?” I whisper, reading and re-reading the note until the elegant red script blurs before my eyes. “Is she hitting on me?”

I pace around the bedroom, the note clutched in my hand. My mind is racing, trying to make sense of this bizarre situation.

Caterina De Luca, a statuesque blonde goddess with strong red eyes who apparently owns a casino and can casually gift bags worth potetnailly more than my old student loans, was loving up on me?

“This makes no fucking sense,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “She’s literally better than my dream girl. Women like that don’t go for guys like me.”

I stop in front of the mirror, studying my reflection. I’m not ugly by any means, average height, average build, decent face. But I’m certainly not in the league of someone who can destroy Hiroshima with her tits.

“I wonder if Claire is aware,” I stare, staring at the note again. “Does she know her boss is trying to seduce her husband?”

I think back to Claire’s reaction when Maddy delivered the gifts. She hadn’t seemed surprised, just resigned.

“There’s something really weird going on here,” I decide, folding the note and shoving it into my pocket. “I need to tell Claire tonight. This isn’t normal boss-employee behavior. I can’t just cheat on my new wife. I want to be a man of honor in this new world.”

‘I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t honorable before.’

I turn back to the Birkin bag, eyeing the envelope full of cash. Taking all of it feels dangerous. I’d hate to get mugged again and lose it all.

“Just a few hundreds,” I say, pulling out seven crisp bills and tucking them into an empty wallet i found. “Any more would make me nervous.”

I put the envelope back in the Birkin bag and close it, feeling like I’m hiding evidence of a crime. After a moment’s hesitation, I tuck the bag into the back of the closet, behind some boxes where it won’t be immediately visible.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” I mumble, though I know the knowledge of its existence will continue to gnaw at me.

I rummage through the drawers in the entryway until I find a small ceramic dish containing a few keys. I pick one that looks like it might be a spare house key and slip it into my pocket alongside the wallet with my borrowed cash.

As I step outside and lock the door, the warm early fall air hits my face, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant aroma of someone grilling. I take a deep breath, relishing the feeling of freedom after being cooped up in the hospital for so long.

“Oh, Adam! Good morning!”

I turn toward the cheerful voice, spotting a woman in the yard next door. She’s pushing a lawn mower across her perfectly manicured lawn, wearing shorts that barely contain her generous curves and a tank top that’s stretched tight across her ample chest. Her auburn hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face, which is flushed from exertion.

I sigh, my eyes widening slightly at the sight of her. “Is everyone in this world built like a fucking succubus?” I whisper under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief.

The woman pauses, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her movements are almost hypnotic, drawing attention to the swell of her breasts with each motion.

I walk over to the low fence separating our properties, plastering a friendly smile on my face. “Good morning,” I call out, raising a hand in greeting.

‘God, I hope she’s not a Karen.’

She abandons her lawn mower and approaches the fence, her hips swaying with each step. Up close, I can see she’s probably in her mid-forties, with laugh lines around her eyes that only add to her appeal.

“I heard you were in the hospital from your wife,” she says, concern etched across her features. “How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, I, uhh, have memory issues,” I admit. “It’s been a bit of an adjustment.”

Her eyes widen with sympathy. “Oh, you poor thing,” she coos, reaching across the fence to place a comforting hand on my arm. Her touch lingers just a bit too long to be purely neighborly. “Do you remember me at all?”

I shake my head apologetically. “I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“I’m Veronica,” she says with a warm smile. “We’ve been neighbors for about a year now. We always talk about having a glass of wine together but have yet to had the chance. Perhaps today?” She says in a flirty way.

I chuckle awkwardly, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “Sorry, I’m actually going out right now,” I say, taking a small step back from the fence.

Veronica’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rise, her green eyes flicking to my driveway. “But your wife’s car is gone,” she points out, her voice tinged with confusion. “How are you planning to get around?”

“I’m just going to walk to the subway,” I explain with a shrug. “Figured I’d head into the city.”

“What?” Veronica exclaims, her eyes widening in concern. She places a hand on her chest, drawing my attention to her ample cleavage. “On your own? It’s a half mile away!”

I blink at her, genuinely confused by her reaction. “What? It’s fine,” I say with a dismissive wave. “In fact, isn’t that so great? That’s like the perfect distance to get a little walk in, too.”

Veronica looks at me like I’ve just suggested killing John Lennon. Her brow furrows, and she bites her lower lip, a gesture that somehow manages to be both concerned and oddly seductive.

“How about I drive you over?” she offers, already reaching for her back pocket as if to grab her keys. “It’s really no trouble at all.”

I try to weasel out of Veronica’s offer as politely as possible. “That’s really nice of you, but I don’t want to interrupt your lawn mowing. Besides, I could use the exercise after being cooped up in that hospital bed for so long.”

Veronica doesn’t seem convinced. She props one hand on her hip, causing her tank top to ride up slightly and reveal a strip of tanned midriff. “Adam, I really don’t think you should be wandering around on your own just yet. What if something happens? What if you get confused?”

I’m about to respond when the quiet morning air is shattered by the purr of an expensive engine. We both turn to see a gleaming Rolls Royce Phantom gliding down our suburban street, looking as out of place as a gun in a school toilet. The vehicle is midnight black, its chrome accents catching the morning sun and throwing back blinding flashes of light.

The Phantom slows to a stop directly in front of our houses, its massive presence dominating the modest street. For a moment, all is silent except for the soft idle of the engine, which sounds more like a contented cat’s purr than a machine.

Then, with theatrical slowness, the rear window slides down.

Caterina De Luca sits in the backseat, looking like she’s stepped straight out of a dream. Her golden hair cascades over her shoulders in perfect waves, and she’s wearing oversized sunglasses that cover half her face. Even through the dark lenses, I can feel the intensity of her gaze.

She pulls the sunglasses down slightly, revealing those hypnotic crimson eyes. They lock onto mine with laser-like precision, and a slow smile spreads across her perfect lips.

“Oh, Adam,” she purrs, her voice carrying easily across the yard. “Good to see you again.”

I’m frozen for a moment, caught like a deer in headlights. There’s something almost predatory about the way she’s looking at me as if I’m a particularly delicious meal she can’t wait to devour.

Next to me, I can feel Veronica tense up. Her previously flirtatious demeanor has vanished, replaced by something that looks almost like fear.

“Sorry, Veronica,” I say, already backing away from the fence. “I have to go talk with her.”

Veronica nods quickly, her eyes darting nervously between me and the Rolls Royce. “Of course,” she says, her voice several octaves higher than before. “We’ll catch up another time.”

I flash her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Goodbye,” I call over my shoulder, already moving toward the idling car.

I approach the Phantom, trying to hide my nervousness. The car is even more impressive up close. The paint is so perfectly black it seems to absorb the very sunlight around it.

“Good morning, Caterina,” I say, trying to sound casual.

She chuckles, the sound low and melodious, but then her expression shifts. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows draw together slightly, creating the tiniest crease between them. Her red lips form a small, disappointed pout.

“Cat, remember?” she says, her tone almost annoyed, though there’s a playfulness lurking beneath the surface. She taps one fingernail against the door frame, creating a soft clicking sound that somehow manages to convey impatience.

“Yes, sorry,” I reply. “Good morning, Cat.”

At this, she smiles wide, her entire face lighting up with genuine pleasure. The smile transforms her features from merely beautiful to breathtaking.

“Good morning, Adam,” she purrs, my name rolling off her tongue like she’s savoring the taste of it.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask.

Cat sighs dramatically, the sound both theatrical and somehow elegant. She removes her sunglasses completely, hooking them into the neckline of her blouse. The movement draws my eyes briefly to her chest before I force my gaze back up to her face.

“Well, I thought I was supposed to meet your wife here,” she explains, waving a hand dismissively, “but I forgot we had her head to the office this morning.” She pauses, her eyes traveling over my face and body in a slow, appreciative sweep that makes my skin tingle. “And then I figured I’d say hello.”

“Well, that was kind of you.”

“Where are you off to?” she asks.

“Oh, you know, around,” I reply vaguely, gesturing toward the general direction of the subway.

Cat’s lips curve into a knowing smile, revealing perfect white teeth. She leans forward slightly, the movement causing her blouse to shift, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage.

“Hop in,” she says, patting the buttery leather seat beside her. “I can drive you wherever you want to go.” Her voice drops to a whisper, intimate and inviting.

“I don’t really have a destination,” I say, my fingers fidgeting with the wallet in my pocket, the wallet containing the cash she gave me.

“All the better,” Cat purrs, her smile widening to reveal a hint of perfectly white teeth. She shifts over slightly, making room for me on the plush leather seat.

‘God, I would love to get in a car with a goddess like her. The thought is almost overwhelming. To be enclosed in that intimate space, surrounded by her scent, her presence. To have those crimson eyes focused solely on me. Literally, Dream Woman vibes. But I’m a married man.’

“I’m sorry, Cat,” I say, taking a step back from the car. “I don’t think that would be appropriate. I’m a married man, after all.”

The change in Cat’s demeanor is instant and chilling. It’s like watching a tropical paradise suddenly freeze over. The warmth in her crimson eyes vanishes, replaced by a cold, calculating glint that sends a shiver down my spine. Her smile, once inviting and seductive, hardens into something brittle and dangerous.

“Oh?” she says, her voice dropping several degrees. The single syllable hangs in the air between us like an icicle.

“I hope you know I would never do anything to you that would upset Claire,” Cat continues, each word precise and clipped, like shards of ice falling from her perfect lips.

“Of course,” I stammer awkwardly.

Cat’s gaze is penetrating, boring into me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl. She stares at me for a full minute, the silence stretching between us like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point. I find myself holding my breath, waiting for her reaction. I almost feel like im going to laugh for how awkward I feel.

Finally, Cat breaks the silence. “I just remembered I have a meeting to get to, Adam.” Her voice is flat, emotionless, a stark contrast to the sultry purr from moments ago.

She slides her sunglasses back on, once again hiding those mesmerizing crimson eyes. The barrier makes her seem even more distant, unreachable.

“I suppose I’ll see you later,” she says, the words more statement than question. There’s a finality to her tone that makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Okay, have a nice day,” I reply.

Cat doesn’t respond. She simply nods once, a sharp, dismissive gesture, before pressing a button. The window slides up smoothly, cutting off any chance for further conversation. The last thing I see is my own reflection in the dark glass, looking small and uncertain.

As the Rolls Royce pulls away, I sigh to myself, “Well, that ruined the vibe.”

I stand there for a moment, watching the space where the car had been, half expecting it to reappear. The whole encounter has left me feeling annoyed.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “What is with that woman?”

I glance over at Veronica’s yard, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Smart woman. She probably retreated inside the moment Cat pulled up, sensing the dangerous undercurrents in the air.

With heavy steps, I trudge back toward my house, my earlier enthusiasm for exploration completely evaporated. I go back into the house.

The silence inside is oppressive, pressing against my eardrums like cotton wool. I stand in the entryway for a long moment, listening to the soft hum of the refrigerator, the distant tick of a clock from somewhere deeper in the house.

“I’m just gonna go watch YouTube in bed or something,” I announce to the empty house, my voice sounding hollow and strange in the stillness. “The day’s a total wash at this point.”