Love Buried in the Past

Isabella’s demeanor remained calm throughout the office’s murmurs, betraying no outward reaction. But I knew her too well—her body language told a different story. She was tense, a taut string ready to snap.

She brought me my morning coffee, her routine flawless as always.

"Darling," she said softly, her voice a practiced melody, "I added more sugar today. You’ll love it."

From behind, her arms wrapped around my waist, a gesture that felt more performative than affectionate.

"You work hard now and I’ll ask my assistant to heat up your lunch later," she added before leaving my office briskly, heading into her day with mechanical precision.

Moments later, as we crossed paths, I overheard her call Samuel in an icy, measured tone, "Come to the office."

The office murmured in response.

"Looks like Samuel’s about to get another scolding," one whispered.

"Yeah, remember last time? They were locked in there for two hours and poor Samuel came out with red, swollen eyes. That woman’s a tyrant with him!"

"Well, what do you expect? Madam Waterlow only has eyes for her husband. She doesn’t even look at anyone else!"

Hearing this, a bitter chuckle escaped my lips.

Only me, huh?

Doubt gnawed at me and on impulse, I opened my laptop, accessing the hidden camera I had installed in Isabella’s office just days ago. It was meant to test the device’s clarity—an innocent curiosity—but now, it served a darker purpose.

The feed clicked on and the scene unfolded before me.

The office door was firmly shut. Samuel stood there, sulking, his expression dark and brooding. Isabella sighed heavily and stepped toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist with unsettling familiarity.

"You’re trying to upset me, aren’t you?" she murmured, her voice dripping with a mix of exasperation and indulgence. "I told you—last night was a special situation. My husband woke up; I couldn’t leave."

Her voice softened into a coaxing plea. "Don’t be angry. I’ll use a business trip as an excuse tonight and stay home with you all night. Does that make you happy?"

Samuel’s face twisted with hurt and accusation. "How do I know you’re not lying to me again?"

His tone sharpened, a mix of jealousy and bitterness. "Every day, you cook for him, pamper him. What about me? Why can’t I ever taste the food you make?"

He punctuated his words with mock defiance. "Maybe I’ll just eat the food you brought for Claude today. What do you think of that?"

Isabella’s expression darkened in an instant, her tone turning cold and sharp.

"You wouldn’t dare." Her voice was laced with quiet venom.

"I’ve told you—don’t drag our affair into my husband’s life. If he hears so much as a whisper of this, I’ll fire you on the spot and cut you off completely. No more meetings, no more chances. You’ll be done."

Samuel’s bravado crumbled under her glare. He grabbed her hand hesitantly, his tone softening to a pitiful murmur.

"I’m sorry. I was just joking. I was still mad from last night. You left me, didn’t comfort me... I felt abandoned."

His vulnerability softened her and Isabella’s gaze shifted, her eyes filling with a possessiveness that sent a chill down my spine. She reached up, hooking her arms around his neck and kissed him with a feral intensity.

As their passion escalated, Samuel’s hands fumbled impatiently, pulling at her collar and loosening her belt.

"Is the door locked?" Isabella rasped, her voice heavy with urgency.

"Yes," he stammered, nodding fervently. "Locked tight. Your husband won’t find out."

I sat frozen, staring at the screen as the scene unfolded in all its sordid detail. My chest tightened, my breath catching in my throat. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

They were reckless, consumed by their lust, unwilling to wait until night. They tangled themselves in disheveled passion, oblivious to the consequences.

Several times, I fought the urge to storm in and confront them, but I held back, my shaking hand hitting the record button. If nothing else, I would have my evidence.

The minutes dragged on like hours. When it was finally over, they clung to each other, both breathless and flushed.

"You’re impossible," Isabella murmured, her voice caught somewhere between chastisement and indulgence. "All you ever do is push my limits. My waist hurts so much now; I can’t even walk..."

Her words trailed off as Samuel smirked, leaning into her once more.

My world crumbled around me as the screen dimmed to black.

Isabella, I thought bitterly, you’ve been lying to me all along.