Marrying the Man in the Dark

Cherise felt a warm flush creep into her cheeks as she glanced at the scattered clothes, memories of the previous night flooding her mind like a rushing tide.

Quietly, she retreated to the bathroom for a shower, the weight of the situation pressing heavily upon her. She couldn’t help but blame Mr. Whitlock for the predicament they found themselves in.

Why had he insisted on them listening to that recorder together?

In the end…

Ultimately, she found herself gravitating towards Damien of her own volition.

Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this entire debacle was not entirely her fault–Mr. Whitlock’s meddling had set this chain of events into motion.

After her shower, Cherise’s phone rang, signaling an incoming call from Mr. Whitlock.

“Mrs. Lenoir,” inquired Mr. Whitlock with a tone that held a tinge of apprehension, “Have you and Mr. Lenoir had the chance to peruse the recording I provided together, as I suggested?”

With a sardonic curve gracing her lips, Cherise responded, “Indeed, we have, Mr. Whitlock.”

“Mr. Whitlock,” Cherise continued, her voice tinged with a knowing edge, “It appears your spouse and Mr. Samson share a rather peculiar rapport; would you not agree?”

Taken aback by the revelation, Mr. Whitlock stammered, “How did you come to learn of my wife’s association with Samson…”

finish, Cherise interjected sharply, “The recording you submitted, was it not their voices that resonated within

Cherise swiftly terminated the conversation, leaving Mr. Whitlock in a state of bewildered

Whitlock

the audio recording Cherise received feature his wife

had entrusted to Samson only the day prior…

realization, he hastily

“Good day, sir.”

of Samson’s voice, a woman’s somber tones echoed through the receiver, laden with grief. “I am his spouse. Sammy was involved in a vehicular accident

as he slumped in his chair,

the end in more ways than

clothes and starting the washing machine before making her way downstairs.

her with a warm

last night, so I prepared a nutritious breakfast for you,” Frances chirped. “What would you like to have?”

glancing at the array of breakfast options spread out on the table behind Frances–Italian, Western, meat, vegetarian… it was

was taken aback by the extravagance and struggled to find her

this for me?” she finally managed to ask, a hint of disbelief coloring

this a tad

replied, her smile unwavering. “If you want anything else, just let me know. As long as I’m capable, I’ll make it for you!”