He brings his mistress to a luxury hotel, then freezes when his wife walks in as the NEW owner.
The marble lobby of the Aurora Grand Hotel glowed beneath crystal chandeliers as Peter Langley slid his credit card across the front desk.
At thirty-nine, he still knew how to command attention. A sharp tailored suit, an easy confidence, a watch that cost more than most cars. The woman wrapped around his arm looked completely captivated.
“This place is unreal,” Kira murmured, smoothing her deep red dress as the lights shimmered around her. “I can’t believe we’re actually staying here.”
“I told you,” Peter said softly, squeezing her fingers. “Only the best for you.”
The receptionist, dressed in a dark green blazer and a flawless smile, tapped away at her keyboard.
“Welcome to the Aurora Grand, Mr. Langley. We’re delighted to have you.”
Peter barely acknowledged her. He was focused on Kira’s wide eyes and already planning the rest of the night. Daphne thought he was away at a conference. Like always, he had sent her photos of fake meetings that were really upscale restaurants.
After twelve years of marriage, her trust had made everything easy.
“Your suite is ready,” the receptionist said, handing over the key card. “Just one thing. Tonight, the new owner is greeting guests personally. It’s her first week, and she enjoys meeting everyone.”
“New owner?” Peter asked distractedly.
“Yes, sir. The hotel was sold three days ago. She should be here shortly.”
Peter reached for the card. Kira tugged him toward the elevators.
Then he heard his name.
“Peter.”
His body stiffened. He turned slowly, dread flooding his chest. Standing beneath the lobby lights was Daphne.
She wore a navy tailored suit, sleek heels, her hair pulled into a perfect bun. She didn’t look like the woman waiting at home. She looked powerful.
“Daphne?” he muttered. “Why are you here?”
She approached calmly, completely composed.
“I own this hotel,” she said evenly. “As of Monday. I mentioned I was making some investments, didn’t I?”
Kira’s hand slipped from his arm.
“That’s your wife?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Daphne replied smoothly. “I’m Mrs. Langley. And you must be Kira Sutton from the regional sales team.”
Kira’s face drained of color. “How do you know me?”
“I know quite a lot,” Daphne said coolly. “Including every hotel visit you’ve shared with my husband. El Mesón del Río. The Continental. Want me to continue?”
Peter felt dizzy.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” he said.
“Oh really?” Daphne replied. “Because it looks exactly like you used our joint account to book a luxury stay for your mistress. An account I’ve been monitoring for six months.”
He brings his mistress to a luxury hotel, then freezes when his wife walks in as the NEW owner. The marble lobby of the Aurora Grand Hotel glowed beneath crystal chandeliers as Peter
The lobby of the Aurora Grand Hotel shimmered beneath layers of warm amber light, reflecting off polished stone floors and glass walls that framed the evening skyline of downtown Chicago. Guests moved through the space with the relaxed confidence of people who believed they belonged there, their conversations blending into a low hum of luxury and discretion.
Peter Langley stood at the reception desk with one hand resting casually on the marble counter and the other wrapped around the waist of the woman beside him. At thirty nine, he carried himself with the ease of someone accustomed to admiration, his tailored jacket fitting perfectly, his watch understated but unmistakably expensive, his smile practiced enough to feel natural even when it was not.
The woman next to him leaned closer, her perfume soft and deliberate, her excitement barely contained.
“This place is unbelievable,” Kira said quietly, her eyes darting from the chandelier to the sweeping staircase beyond. “I have never stayed anywhere like this before.”
Peter smiled, enjoying the reaction more than the hotel itself. “I told you,” he replied, lowering his voice. “When I travel, I do it right.”
The receptionist typed steadily, her expression professional and neutral, though she had already noticed the familiar signs. She had seen couples like this before, men who avoided eye contact when signing, women who glowed with the thrill of secrecy.
“Welcome to the Aurora Grand, Mr Langley,” she said pleasantly. “Your suite is prepared. I should mention that tonight is a special evening for us. Our new owner has asked to personally greet guests during her first week.”
Peter barely registered the words. His attention was fixed on Kira, on the way she squeezed his hand, on the private night he had planned. His wife, whom he had assured was visiting her sister in another state, would not be expecting anything from him until Sunday. The lie had slid easily from his mouth, like so many before it.
“New owner,” he repeated absently. “Good for her.”
The receptionist smiled. “She should be joining us shortly.”
Peter reached for the key card, ready to move on, when a familiar voice cut through the atmosphere of the lobby with quiet precision.
“Peter.”
The sound of his name landed heavily, as if the air itself had thickened around him. He turned slowly, his confident posture faltering as recognition set in. Standing near the entrance, framed by the glass doors and city lights beyond, was his wife.
