Mine to Mistake

POV of Victoria

Morning light streamed through the penthouse windows, casting long shadows across our bedroom. I stood at the foot of our bed, Nathan's phone clutched in my trembling hand, my heart hammering against my ribs like a caged animal.

Nathan stirred awake, his eyes slowly focusing on me. For a moment, he looked confused, as if he couldn't quite place where he was. Then his gaze dropped to the phone in my hand, and understanding dawned across his face.

"Victoria," he said, his voice rough with sleep. "You went through my phone."

"I did," I replied, my voice surprisingly steady despite the hurricane raging inside me. "And now I know all about your 'white moonlight.'"

He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. There was no denial in his eyes, no attempt to hide what I'd discovered. That hurt more than any lie could have.

"It's not what you think," he said finally, but the words sounded hollow even to my ears.

"Then what is it?" I demanded, tossing the phone onto the bed between us. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've been emotionally cheating on me with a fantasy."

Nathan's jaw tightened, that familiar clinical detachment settling over his features. When he spoke, his voice was measured, as if he were explaining a medical procedure rather than the collapse of our marriage.

"When I was seventeen," he began, "I saved a girl from drowning at the lake near my parents' summer house. She was wearing a white dress that had billowed out in the water. Her hair was long, dark..." He paused, his eyes distant. "She told me her name was Emily."

My stomach twisted as I listened to him describe this perfect moment, this perfect girl who had apparently become his yardstick for love.

"After that," he continued, "everything changed. That moment became...significant. It defined what I thought love should be."

"And I'm not that girl," I said flatly.

"No," he admitted. "You're not."

The silence between us stretched taut, ready to snap. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to ask the question that terrified me most.

"Have you ever truly loved me, Nathan?"

His hesitation lasted only seconds, but it felt like an eternity. When he finally answered, his voice was soft.

"I tried."

Two simple words, but they shattered something irreparable inside me.

---

That afternoon, I sat at my desk, staring at my phone. My finger hovered over Adrian's contact for what felt like hours before I finally pressed call.

"Victoria Chen," Adrian's warm voice filled the line. "This is unexpected."

"I need a favor," I said, forcing brightness into my tone. "The Hartwell Foundation Gala is next weekend. I need a plus-one."

There was a brief pause before Adrian responded, his voice careful but intrigued. "I'd be honored. Though I can't help but wonder why you're calling me and not your husband."

"Nathan is the keynote speaker," I replied smoothly. "He'll be there regardless."

Another pause. Adrian had always been perceptive.

"Victoria," he said gently, "are you alright?"

"Yes," I lied. "Just busy with work. The usual."

"I'll pick you up at seven," he said, not pressing further. "Wear something red. It suits you."

After hanging up, I stared at my reflection in the window. Adrian had known me long enough to sense something was wrong. And he'd agreed immediately, knowing full well what this meant.

---

The next few days passed in a blur of appointments and decisions. I sat in my stylist's chair, watching as my long hair—hair that Nathan had once called beautiful—fell in dark waves around me.

"A sharp bob," I instructed, pointing to a picture on my phone. "Something bold."

My stylist's eyes widened slightly. "This is quite a change from your usual."

"That's the point," I replied.

Two days later, I stood in my private fitting room as a seamstress made final adjustments to a crimson dress I'd commissioned—a daring red gown that hugged every curve, with a neckline that plunged lower than anything in my wardrobe.

"Perfect," I murmured as I examined my reflection.

Alexander found me there that evening, nursing a glass of wine in his penthouse while contemplating my new look.

"You're planning something," he said, not a question but a statement.

"Nothing escapes you," I replied, taking a sip of my wine.

"The dress, the hair," he mused, studying me. "And suddenly Adrian is back in the picture." His eyes narrowed. "What did Nathan do?"

I didn't answer immediately, just stared into my wine glass.

"Victoria," Alexander said softly. "Tell me."

The story spilled out of me then—the phone messages, the white moonlight fantasy, Emily. Alexander listened without interrupting, his expression growing darker with each revelation.

"And now?" he asked when I finished.

"Now," I said, setting down my glass with deliberate care, "I'm going to remind Nathan exactly who I am."

---

The night before the gala, I returned home to find Nathan waiting in the living room. A bouquet of white lilies—my supposed favorite—sat on the coffee table.

"Victoria," he began, standing as I entered. "I think we need to talk."

I stared at the flowers, then at him. "Those are lilies."

"Yes," he said, looking confused. "Your favorite."

"No," I replied coldly. "I'm allergic to lilies. Always have been."

Something flickered across his face—shock, perhaps, or guilt.

"I'm going to the gala tomorrow with Adrian," I continued, watching his reaction carefully.

"You can't," he said, his composure cracking for the first time since I'd known him. He crossed the room in three quick strides and grabbed my wrist. "Cancel it. Whatever you think is happening between Emily and me—"

I wrenched my arm free and stepped back. "Goodbye, Nathan."

Turning away from his stunned expression, I walked to the guest bedroom and locked the door behind me.

Tomorrow would be the beginning of my revenge—and Nathan had no idea what was coming.