The Captain's Cold Aspen Revenge

Amy Payne POV:

The Aspen air hit us like a slap. Crisp, biting, and undeniably cold. We stepped out of the car, and Kloe, predictably, started to shiver. Her fashionable, thin ski jacket was clearly no match for the mountain weather. She wrapped her arms around herself, her teeth chattering.

"Oh, it's so cold!" she whimpered, her voice tiny and pathetic.

Gonzalo was instantly by her side, pulling off his own thick, down-filled coat. He draped it around her shoulders. "I told you that jacket wasn't warm enough," he said, but his tone was gentle, filled with concern. "Why do you always do this to yourself?"

Kloe burrowed into his coat, her head coming up to gaze at him with adoration. "But it's so pretty, Gonzalo! And it'll look amazing in photos. You know how important my aesthetic is for my brand." She then looked at the coat he'd given her, a small frown on her face. "But this... it's just a regular coat."

"It's practical, Kloe," Gonzalo insisted.

"I have something much better for you." She pulled out a small, exquisite leather handbag from her luggage. "Gonzalo, darling, you forgot to give me my new bag! It's the perfect accessory for my outfit."

My eyes widened. It was an $8,000 designer bag, a limited edition from a brand I recognized. Gonzalo had just bought Kloe an $8,000 designer bag? My blood ran cold, colder than the Aspen air.

"Gonzalo," I said, my voice dangerously soft, "where did you get the money for that bag?"

He flinched, turning to me, his face pale. "Amy! It's just... a small gift. For her hard work, you know. Mentorship."

"A small gift?" I scoffed. "Eight thousand dollars is not a small gift. It's more than you've spent on me in the last five years combined."

He bristled. "It's my money, Amy! What's it to you?"

"Your money?" I practically spat the words out. "There is no 'your money,' Gonzalo. There's only my money. The money I earn as a software engineer, the money I earn as a U.S. Army Reserve Captain. The money I've paid for your PhD for seven years! You used my money to buy her an $8,000 bag?"

"We're married, Amy!" he yelled, his face contorted in rage. "It's our money! Community property!"

"Community property for my hard-earned cash to fund your mistress's designer accessories?" My voice reached a pitch I didn't recognize. "You have some nerve, Gonzalo! I begged you for a decent ski jacket for myself last year, and you said we couldn't afford it. You said we needed to save for your academic conferences."

I remembered the cheap, ill-fitting jacket I had bought from a discount store, making do. He had always been so careful with "our" money when it came to me. Always so "frugal." Now I knew why. He was frugal with me because he was saving it for her.

Kloe, seeing her cue, tried to get in on the act. "Oh, Amy, if it makes you feel better, you can have it. I'm sure I can find another bag." She started to unclip the strap, offering it to me. Her eyes, however, held a glint of challenge.

I looked at her, then back at the bag. "Keep your secondhand goods, Kloe. I don't want anything that's touched your grubby hands."

Kloe's lips trembled, and she looked at Gonzalo, her eyes welling up with fake tears. "She's being mean, Gonzalo."

Gonzalo's face hardened. "Amy, that's enough! You're ruining the mood. Just stop it."

Kloe reached out a hand, softly touching his cheek. "It's okay, Gonzalo. Don't let her upset you." She leaned in, blowing on his bare hands. "You're getting so cold. Let me warm you."

Gonzalo sighed, a soft, contented sound. He looked at Kloe, a tenderness in his eyes that made my blood run cold. She had him completely wrapped around her finger.

"You should really put your coat back on, Gonzalo," Kloe said, still blowing on his hands. "I don't want you to get sick. I know you're so worried about me, but you need to take care of yourself too." She made a show of trying to push his coat back onto him.

He gently pushed her hands away. "No, Kloe. You need it more. You're so delicate."

"But you're cold too!" she insisted, her voice full of false concern. "If you don't wear it, I won't either."

They went back and forth, a ridiculous power struggle disguised as concern. Finally, Gonzalo, exasperated, pulled his coat back on. Kloe, still shivering dramatically, insisted it wasn't enough.

"I'm still freezing, Gonzalo," she said, her teeth chattering so hard I could almost hear them. "But I don't want you to suffer because of me." She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes, a masterclass in emotional manipulation.

Then, he turned to me. His eyes landed on my brand-new, expensive, high-performance ski jacket, the one I had bought myself with my own money, the one I had saved for for months. My Army-issued tactical jacket, designed for extreme cold.

"Amy," he said, his voice flat, "take off your jacket."

I stared at him. Had I heard him right? "What?"

"Give Kloe your jacket," he repeated, his voice firm. "You're not as sensitive to the cold as she is."

"I'm not sensitive to the cold?" I scoffed. "Gonzalo, I'm just warm-blooded. That doesn't mean I want to freeze my ass off on a mountain."

He took a step towards me, his eyes blazing. "Just take it off, Amy!"

He reached for the zipper of my jacket. I instinctively recoiled, trying to pull away. "Get off me, Gonzalo! What are you doing?"

He ignored my protests, his hands fumbling with the zipper. I struggled, trying to push him away, but he was stronger than me. We were on an icy patch of pavement near the ski lifts. My feet slipped. I lost my balance. We both went down. My head hit the ground with a sickening thud. Luckily, my helmet took the brunt of the impact, but stars still exploded behind my eyes. The world spun.

I lay there, dazed, my vision blurry. My expensive jacket was ripped from my body. I saw Kloe, her face a mask of false concern, quickly pull the jacket on, zipping it all the way up.

"Oh, Amy, are you alright?" Kloe asked, her voice trembling, though I could hear the triumph underneath.

Gonzalo looked down at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "She's fine," he snapped, dismissing Kloe's question. "Always so dramatic." He helped Kloe to her feet, adjusting my jacket on her shoulders. "You go on ahead, Kloe. I'll deal with Amy." He turned to me, "Amy, you can just... go back to the hotel. We'll meet you later."

He didn't offer a hand. He didn't even check if I was hurt. He just turned his back on me, on his wife, and started walking towards the ski lift with Kloe, my jacket wrapped around her.