Possessed by Him

I made it back to our penthouse in a daze, mascara streaked down my cheeks, my body moving on autopilot. The memory of Gabriel and Anna entwined in his office played on endless loop in my mind. His words echoed with cruel precision: "You're just a habit I've grown comfortable with." Each syllable a knife twisting deeper.

Home didn't feel like home anymore. The sleek, modern penthouse with its floor-to-ceiling windows and designer furniture suddenly seemed like a beautiful prison. I'd helped design this space, pouring my heart into creating a sanctuary for us. Now every corner held a memory that cut like glass.

I collapsed onto our bed—no, his bed—and let the tears flow freely. How had we gotten here? When had the man who once read poetry to me under starlight become this cold, calculating stranger?

My phone buzzed with a text from Chloe: "How did the surprise lunch go?" I couldn't bring myself to respond. How could I possibly compress this devastation into words?

Hours passed as I lay there, alternating between numbness and waves of searing pain. The sky outside darkened, city lights blinking on like stars. I should pack, I thought distantly. I should leave before he returns.

But where would I go? And more importantly—would he even let me?

The sound of the front door opening sent ice through my veins. I quickly wiped my face and sat up, steeling myself for whatever came next. Confrontation. More cruel words. Perhaps even the relief of a clean break.

What I didn't expect was the delicious aroma of my favorite pasta dish wafting through the apartment, or Gabriel's voice calling out with casual warmth.

"Victoria? I brought dinner from Emilio's."

I remained frozen on the bed, certain I'd misheard. This couldn't be happening.

Footsteps approached the bedroom, and then he was there, standing in the doorway with a paper bag of takeout and a bottle of wine. He wore a different suit than earlier—no trace of the man I'd caught with his assistant hours before.

"There you are," he smiled, as if this were any normal evening. "I thought we could have a quiet dinner together. Just the two of us."

I stared at him, speechless. Was this some kind of cruel joke?

"What are you doing?" I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Gabriel's brow furrowed with practiced concern. "Making dinner for my fiancée. Are you feeling alright? You look pale."

He set the food down and approached me, sitting beside me on the bed. When he reached to touch my forehead, I flinched away.

"Don't," I said, finding my voice. "Don't touch me. Not after what I saw today."

Something flickered in his eyes—so quickly I almost missed it. A cold calculation beneath the mask of concern. Then it was gone, replaced by hurt confusion.

"What are you talking about, Victoria?"

I laughed then, a hollow sound that scraped my throat. "I saw you. With Anna. In your office."

Gabriel's expression shifted to one of wounded innocence so convincing it made me doubt my own memory for a terrifying moment.

"Anna? My assistant?" He shook his head, reaching for my hand. This time I was too stunned to pull away. "Victoria, I was in meetings all day. The quarterly review with the board, remember? I told you about it last week."

"No," I said, yanking my hand from his. "I saw you. You were..." The words stuck in my throat. "You were having sex with her on your desk."

Gabriel's face softened with such tender concern that for one insane moment, I wondered if I'd imagined the whole thing.

"Victoria," he said gently, "I think you've been working too hard. Between the Henderson project and the wedding plans—"

"Don't do this," I interrupted, anger flaring through my confusion. "Don't try to make me think I'm crazy. I know what I saw."

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair—a gesture so familiar it made my heart ache despite everything.

"How can you suspect me after all these years?" he asked, his voice low and hurt. "I thought you trusted me."

The question hit me like a physical blow. Did I trust him? Had our years together meant nothing? The Gabriel I knew wouldn't lie to my face like this...but then, the Gabriel I knew wouldn't have been with Anna either.

"I did trust you," I whispered. "Until today."

He stood abruptly, pacing to the window. "I don't know what you think you saw, but it wasn't me. I would never do that to you." He turned, eyes shining with what looked like genuine pain. "Do you really believe I could hurt you like that?"

Doubt crept in, insidious as smoke. Had the stress of the wedding and work distorted my perception? But no—I remembered every detail with painful clarity. The way his hands gripped her thighs. The hunger in his eyes I hadn't seen directed at me in so long.

"You told me I was just a habit," I said, clinging to the memory. "You said I belonged to you until you decided you didn't want me anymore."

Gabriel's expression changed to one of alarm. "Victoria, I would never say something so cruel. Never." He approached me again, kneeling before me and taking my hands in his. "I love you. Only you. Always you."

His touch was warm, familiar. His eyes, when they met mine, held nothing but devotion. I felt myself wavering, confusion clouding my certainty.

"Let me prove it to you," he whispered, leaning in to kiss me.

I turned my face away at the last moment, his lips grazing my cheek instead. Something wasn't right. This tender, loving man couldn't be the same one who had coldly dismissed me hours earlier. One of them was a lie—but which one?

As if sensing my inner turmoil, Gabriel stood and picked up his phone from the nightstand. "I'll give you some space. Why don't you freshen up while I set dinner out?"

He left the room, but not before deliberately placing his phone on the dresser—screen up, unlocked.

I stared at it, understanding the implicit invitation. He wanted me to look. To reassure myself.

With trembling fingers, I picked it up. And there it was—a text notification from Anna Hayes: "Last night was amazing. Can't wait to feel you inside me again."

My stomach lurched. As I stared at the screen, another message appeared: "Wearing that red lingerie you like under my dress today. Come find out."

I set the phone down as if it had burned me, my mind reeling. He'd left it for me to see. Deliberately.

When I looked up, Gabriel was standing in the doorway, watching me with an expression I couldn't read. For just a moment, I glimpsed something in his eyes—a cold satisfaction that sent chills down my spine.

Then it was gone, replaced by hurt betrayal.

"Checking my phone?" he asked quietly. "So this is how little you trust me."

As he turned and walked away, leaving me alone with the evidence of his betrayal and his accusation of my mistrust, I realized with sickening clarity that I was caught in a game whose rules I didn't understand—with a man I no longer recognized.