Chapter 4 MASK ON

When I arrived home late that night, Agatha was waiting near the parlor. "Somma is sleeping peacefully," she whispered before heading home. I would love to discuss how my day went with her but she needed to be home, it was already late.

I crept into my bedroom, where the small dim nightlight cast long shadows across the walls. Somma was curled up on her small mattress under the thick cotton blanket, fast asleep. Her little body always seems so exhausted from the sensory overload of the waking world.

I knelt beside her bed, my eyes softening as I looked at her peaceful face. I reached out and gently nudged her arm.

She stirred slowly, her small eyes fluttering open. She looked up at me with heavy eyelids, her lips parting slightly.

"You came back late today," she murmured softly.

Her voice was tiny, quiet, and hesitant. Hearing her speak knocked every bit of fatigue right out of my soul.

"I know, my sweet girl," I whispered, kissing her cheek, but I'm here now."

I sat on the edge of her bed and pulled out the stack of cash I had received today. I made a firm decision right then and there. I was going to hire a proper, trained nanny for her. A real professional who knew how to handle children on the autism spectrum. With a nanny taking care of Somma during the day, I would finally have the freedom and time to focus on a new job and build a permanent escape plan while I wait for the fifteen years to complete.

Suddenly, a loud burst of laughter shattered the quiet house. It was coming directly from Ogbonna’s master bedroom down the hallway.

The sound was sharp, piercing, and completely unashamed. Nnenna was laughing at the top of her lungs, making sure her shrill voice echoed off the walls so I would hear every single moan and giggle. She honestly thought I cared. She thought she was hurting me, breaking my heart, or making me cry into my pillow.

"Tell me I am sweeter than her!" Nnenna screamed out so loudly that her voice bounced right into my room.

A second later, Ogbonna’s deep, boastful voice boomed in response. "She is not sweet at all!"

Then both of them burst into a fit of loud, hysterical laughter, their voices carrying across the hallway like a cruel performance.

I didn't cry. I didn't even flinch. I just looked down at my sleeping daughter, pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders, and felt a cold, sharp smile touch my lips. "To make money is damn easy," I whispered to myself, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across my face.

A few days later, I got home and noticed the hallway outside our bedrooms felt different that evening. The usual noise of shrill laughter and loud music coming from Ogbonna’s room was missing. Instead, the house was eerily silent.

As I walked toward Somma’s room after returning late from my errands, Ogbonna suddenly stepped out of the shadows, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were narrow and suspicious as he watched me.

"How were you able to afford all three servants?" he asked me, his voice sharp and demanding.

I stopped in my tracks, mildly surprised. I glanced down the hall toward Somma’s room, where three trained, professional pediatric nannies were quietly organizing her therapy materials and preparing her evening meals. I looked around, wondering why on earth he had suddenly noticed that Somma had three nannies now.

For five years, he had completely ignored our daughter, never noticing whether she was fed, clothed, or cared for.

When I looked around the parlor and did not see his teenage girlfriend, Nnenna, anywhere, I finally understood why he noticed the nannies. Nnenna wasn't home to keep him entertained, so for the first time in months, he actually had to look around his own house.

"Does it matter?" I replied coldly, stepping past him. "You said you didn't care what I did as long as I didn't ask you for a single dime."

"Part of the open marriage means I should know who the guy is," Ogbonna snapped, his pride clearly wounded by how little I seemed to need him. "You're spending money like water. Where is it coming from?"

I didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer. I simply smiled, walked into my room, and locked the door behind me. Let him wonder. Let him sweat.

Later that night at the club, the atmosphere inside the private VIP room was thick with heat, heavy beats, and expensive perfume.

I was on the pole, moving with a confidence I never knew I possessed, making sure I was at my absolute best. Silas was sitting directly in front of the stage, his dark, intense eyes tracking every single stretch and dip of my body. It was weird, but he truly enjoyed watching the pole dance, and the fierce, passionate sex that always followed it made me go gaga. I was here to give him everything in full, taking control of my own pleasure and power.

I had a delicate, feathered mask on today, covering the upper half of my face. My yellow lace panties were small and completely see-through, and from my angle on the pole, I could see how Silas struggled to peek at my body through the sheer open lace as I spun slowly above him. The hunger in his eyes made my skin burn with heat.

Suddenly, the side door clicked open, and Ikem, the club manager, motioned for me to step off the stage.

I wrapped my silk robe around my shoulders and walked over to him in the dim hallway.

"Someone is willing to pay more to have you dance for him in a private suite right now," Ikem whispered, his eyes gleaming with greed.

I looked at Ikem, my brows furrowing beneath my mask. I wondered why he suddenly thought I was open for general business. Silas had already given him a hundred thousand dollars to keep me exclusive.

Now someone else was offering to double it?

I didn't need the money anymore, but a strange, heavy intuition stirred in the pit of my stomach. Who could possibly throw money around like this?

"Who is he?" I asked softly. "I want to see the guy who is ready to pay this much for a woman."

I wanted to look into the eyes of a man paying for a woman my own husband hated so deeply.

Ikem hesitated, then led me down the dark, carpeted hallway toward the most exclusive VIP room at the end of the corridor. He pushed the heavy double doors open, allowing the faint amber light from inside to spill into the hallway.

I stepped into the dark room, my heels sinking into the soft rug. Standing by the bar, holding a glass of scotch and trying so hard to look like a big, wealthy man, was a familiar figure.

My breath caught in my throat. My heart gave a violent shudder beneath my ribs.

Right in front of me was Ogbonna. My husband.