The Luxury Seduction

I gripped the steering wheel, my palms sweating. The distance was too close. I tried to brake, but my foot hesitated for half a second. A dull crash sounded, the car jolted, and my forehead lightly hit the steering wheel. The driver of the luxury car in front got out. A bald, heavyset man holding a black umbrella stormed toward me, his face full of anger. I rolled down the car window, and the rain immediately drifted inside. "Are you blind or something?" He yelled. I was about to apologize, but my gaze slid over his shoulder and landed on the front passenger seat. Chestnut long hair, the curve of her side profile. My heart skipped a beat. The moment that woman turned her head and met my eyes, we both froze. Yara Wayne. My wife. On the front passenger seat, her hand was pulling back from that bald man's steering wheel, and her collar was undone. "Sinbad?" Her lips moved. The bald man sensed something was off, turned around, and looked at her. "Honey, do you know him?" Honey. Sounds pretty intimate. Yara quickly composed herself and pushed the door open to get out. She didn't have an umbrella, and the rain quickly soaked her hair. "What are you doing here?" She asked, her voice tight. The bald man sized me up, then glanced at my beat-up car, a mocking smile of sudden understanding spreading across his face. "Oh—so this is your—" He didn't finish, but the meaning was clear. Yara grabbed his arm. "Mr. Drew, let's go. Don't stoop to his level." Mr. Drew, Tony Drew. I've heard that name before—the big client of Yara's company, a real estate tycoon. Tony shook off her hand and walked up to my car window. "You rear-ended me, fully at fault. Fixing my car will cost at least a hundred grand. Is your insurance enough?" I kept staring at Yara. She avoided my gaze and looked down, smoothing her skirt. A small object slipped out of her bag and fell into a puddle. Pink casing, two white lines. Pregnancy test. Tony saw it too, bent down to pick it up, and grinned, "Well, well. That didn't take long, did it?" Yara's face went pale. I pushed open the car door and stepped out. "Whose child is it?" My voice sounded so strange, it didn't even seem like my own. Yara bit her lip. Tony stepped in front of her. "None of your da*n business. Pay up, or I'm calling the cops." I stared at Yara's lower stomach. Our seven-year marriage, and our five-year-old daughter, Cindy Tate. "I'm asking you, whose child is it?" I asked again. Yara finally lifted her head, tears in her eyes, but also a coldness I had never seen before. "Sinbad, we'll talk about this when we get home." "Say it now." Tony shoved me, "F*ck off." "Yara, get in the car." He slipped his arm around Yara's waist, his movements smooth like he'd done it a thousand times. In that instant, something inside my mind just snapped. The luxury car disappeared into the rain. I stood there, rain mingling with blood soaking into my collar. My phone rang. It was Leo. "Sinbad, did you get the accident cleared up? I pulled some strings with the cops—" "Leo." I cut him off, my voice hoarse, "Get me the footage. The surveillance from the accident scene." "What's wrong?" I watched the luxury car fade out of sight. "I want evidence." "What kind of evidence?" "Evidence that my wife is cheating."