Betrayal and Vengeance: [3rd POV]
The air was thick with the stench of lust, a heady cocktail of sweat, pheromones, and desperation. Hannah’s fingers trembled as Vincent shoved the bouquet of peonies into her hands, those delicate fucking petals brushing against her skin like the whisper of a lover’s touch. She barely had time to register their softness before they were ripped away, scattered like discarded innocence across the hotel floor.
Vincent was on her like a starving animal, his hands tearing at her clothes with a ferocity. His mouth went straight to her neck, his teeth sinking into her soft flesh with a growl that sent shivers down her spine. Hannah moaned, her hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her nails scratching at his chest as she tried to rid him of the last barrier between them.
“Damn it,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need.
Vincent chuckled, his breath hot against her skin as his hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips like he owned them. He lifted her like she weighed nothing, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bed.
He dropped her onto the mattress, the springs groaning in protest as he climbed on top of her, his cock already hard and straining against his pants. Hannah’s hands went to his belt, her fingers fumbling with the buckle as Vincent’s mouth found hers, his tongue invading her mouth like he was claiming her, marking her as his.
“I need to leave before eight,” she managed to say between kisses, her voice breathless and broken.
Vincent pulled back, his lips curling into a smirk as he looked down at her, his eyes dark with hunger. “Oh, baby,” he purred, his hands sliding down her sides to grip her thighs, spreading them wide. “We’ve got so much time.”
***
Abigail
I couldn’t stop shaking.
My hands trembled as I clutched the edge of the table, knuckles white, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The weight of Evie’s words settled into my bones, sinking deep into my chest like lead.
I had known something was wrong.
I had felt it in the pit of my stomach, sensed it in the way Vincent spoke to me, in the late nights, in the distant kisses, in the moments he made me feel like I was losing my mind. But hearing it out loud, knowing it was real, shattered something inside me.
He cheated. Not once. Not twice. But repeatedly.
The humiliation, the sheer ragedefended
But I wasn’t crazy.
I wasn’t paranoid.
I was right.
And now, I was done
Evie’s voice was cautious, careful, like she was afraid I might break apart right in front of her. “Aby, maybe you should sit down. Breathe. Just—”
I straightened, inhaling sharply. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice too calm. Too composed.
Evie didn’t believe me. I could see it in the way she studied me, her brows furrowed with concern. “Are you sure talking to him right now is a good idea?”
I nodded stiffly. “I just need to see him.”
“I don’t know if—”
“Evie.” I looked her dead in the eyes, the mask still in place. “Please. Just let me handle this.”
She hesitated, but eventually, she sighed, nodding. “Okay. But I swear to God, if you need anything, call me
I forced a small smile, a poor attempt at reassurance, before I turned away.
The second the door closed behind her, my entire body went cold.
My limbs felt detached, like I was moving on autopilot, but my mind was eerily clear. I grabbed my phone, my fingers steady as I dialed his number.
It rang. Once. Twice. Then—
“Baby, I’m still at the office. I’ll be there soon.”
His voice was smooth, casual—like he wasn’t lying through his goddamn teeth.
A bitter laugh rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. My fingers tightened around the phone. I forced myself to respond, my voice even, detached. “Take your time.”
Then, I hung up.
I stood there for a moment, staring at nothing, my mind empty, my heart pounding so violently I thought I might be sick.
Then, without a second thought, I turned and walked to his office.
I pulled open the drawer—the one he thought I didn’t know about.
My fingers wrapped around the cold steel of the shotgun
I wasn’t crazy.
I wasn’t paranoid.
And I wasn’t going to be his fool anymore.
I threw on my coat.
Then, I walked out the door.
The Breaking Point [POV: Hannah]
The room smelled like sweat, sex, and regret.
I lay beside Vincent, my body still humming from what we had done, my breath uneven, my heart pounding for an entirely different reason. The ceiling fan hummed overhead, the sheets twisted around our legs, the evidence of our sins tangled between us.
This was a mistake.
I knew it the moment it happened, maybe even before that. But knowing something was wrong and stopping it were two entirely different things.
Vincent let out a slow exhale beside me, his hand dragging lazily down my spine. “That was insane,” he murmured.
I squeezed my eyes shut, then sat up, shaking my head. “This was a mistake.”
He chuckled, propping himself on one elbow, smirking like I had just told him a joke. “Was it?”
I ignored him. I turned toward the nightstand, searching for my phone. 7:45 PM. Shit.
I needed to go.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, reaching for my dress, but before I could stand, Vincent’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back onto him.
His lips ghosted against my ear, his voice low, teasing. “Promise me I’ll see you again.”
I shoved at his chest, but his grip tightened, his smirk deepening. “C’mon, Hannah. You know you want this.”
I hated how part of me did.
I hated how my body still reacted to his, how even now, after all of this, he could still make me feel weak.
But I couldn’t let him.
I pulled away, wrenching myself from his grasp. “I need to go.”
Vincent sighed dramatically, reclining against the pillows like he had all the time in the world. “You’ll come back for more,” he mused, watching me slip into my dress. “I’m sure of it.”
I turned, rolling my eyes as I zipped up my back. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”
He smirked, like he took it as a compliment. “Aby’s different now,” he said lazily, stretching out his arms. “She’s hormonal. Paranoid. Needy.”
My stomach twisted.
“She’s pregnant with your baby, Vincent,” I snapped, my voice sharp. “Don’t you have a conscience?”
He tilted his head, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. “You ask me that,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “yet you were just beneath me, moaning my name.”
My breath caught.
His words hit like a slap, because he was right.
I was no better than him.
I let this happen.
I let myself betray the only good man I’ve ever had.
Anger burned through me, hot and suffocating, but it wasn’t just at Vincent. It was at myself.
“You’re an asshole,” I spat, snatching my purse from the chair.
I turned and stormed out of the hotel. I had to get to Nate.
***
[POV: Abigail]
The hotel was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made your own heartbeat sound deafening.
I walked through the lobby with purpose, the silk scarf draped over my head shielding my face from the warm, dim lights. I kept my posture straight, my breaths measured, but inside—inside, I was unraveling.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
I clenched them into fists, pressing my nails into my palms, trying to ground myself. But the tremors didn’t stop. My breath felt too shallow, my chest too tight.
I knew it.
God, I knew it.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside, pressing the button for the thirty-seventh floor. My reflection stared back at me in the mirrored walls—wide eyes, pale skin, lips pressed into a thin, trembling line.
You were a fool, Abigail.
The numbers ticked up.
You let him make a fool of you.
Ding.
The doors opened, revealing the long stretch of carpeted hallway, each door identical to the next.
But I knew which one was his.
37B.
I reached for the handle, my fingers unsteady.
The door was slightly ajar.
My stomach lurched.
I nudged it open, stepping inside.
The scent of sex and sweat lingered in the air.
The bedside lamp cast a soft, golden glow over the room, illuminating the messy, tangled sheets. A glass of water sat on the nightstand, condensation dripping down its sides. A woman’s scarf was tossed over the back of a chair.
Not mine.
I barely heard the sound of movement before I saw him.
Vincent.
Half-naked, sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to erase the proof in front of me.
He looked up, and for the briefest second, his expression flickered between shock and confusion.
Not because he was caught.
Because he was expecting someone else.
Something deep inside me twisted violently, but I couldn’t place it yet.
His mouth opened, but I didn’t hear him.
The blood rushing in my ears was too loud.
And then my eyes fell to the floor.
A bouquet of peonies.
My heart slammed into my ribs, memories rushing forward like a cruel, mocking slap.
“Peonies are my favorite flower too.”
Hannah’s voice.
A fresh wave of nausea hit me.
The late nights. The unanswered texts. The way he pulled away when I touched him. The gaslighting.
“You’re being paranoid.”
“I’ve been working my ass off.”
“I would never, ever lie to you.”
Lies.
Every last word had been a lie.
A sharp pain shot through my stomach, but I barely felt it. My body was too numb, too far gone to process anything but the raw ache spreading through my chest.
And then—
My hand moved on its own.
I didn’t remember reaching for the gun. Didn’t remember pulling it out of my bag.
Didn’t remember lifting it.
But there it was, cold and steady in my grasp.
Vincent’s eyes widened, his hands raising instinctively. “Abigail—” His voice cracked, the confidence draining from his face as he took a careful step back. “Don’t do this. Let me explain.”
But I wasn’t listening.
I didn’t need an explanation.
I had all the proof I needed.
All I could hear was the sound of my own heart breaking, splintering into irreparable pieces.
My grip tightened.
My breath hitched.
And then—
I pulled the trigger.
The sound was deafening.
Vincent’s body jerked backward, collapsing onto the bed, the white sheets blooming with red. His mouth parted in shock, pain twisting his features, his hand reaching toward his stomach.
I didn’t stay to watch.
I turned, my heartbeat a deafening drum in my ears as I walked out the door.
The elevator was waiting when I reached the hall.
I stepped inside, pressing the button for the ground floor.
The doors slid shut.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt nothing.
To be continued…
