Chapter 5 - The Lake House Interlude
I stepped out of the Porsche, the afternoon breeze catching the hem of my black leather trench coat and whipping my dark hair gently across my cheek.
The Canandaigua Lake cottage was a stunning, rustic-modern property featuring massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the water, cedar siding, and a wrap-around stone patio.
It was a sanctuary of peace and natural beauty—or at least, it had been until Andrew and his secret life invaded it.
I walked purposefully up the stone steps of the front porch, bypassing the doorbell entirely.
Instead, I reached out and pushed the heavy oak front door open.
It wasn't even locked.
Careless, arrogant, and entirely too comfortable.
“Andrew?” I called out, my voice carrying clearly through the vaulted open-concept living room and kitchen area.
Silence greeted me for a moment, save for the muffled sound of running water coming from the master bathroom down the hall.
I stepped inside, my heels clicking sharply against the polished pine floorboards.
The living room was messy—empty wine bottles on the coffee table, a pair of expensive women’s designer sunglasses resting casually beside a half-empty box of artisanal crackers, and a sweet, cloying scent of jasmine perfume hanging heavily in the warm indoor air.
Jasmine.
The exact same scent I had smelled on Andrew's collars over the past six months.
I paused by the kitchen island, picking up a gold-plated compact mirror belonging to Ms. Chloe Montgomery.
A slow, chilling smile touched my lips.
So he hadn't come up here alone to fix a broken plumbing pipe after all.
What a remarkably creative plumbing emergency.
I walked steadily down the hallway toward the master bathroom, where the sound of the shower running grew louder and more distinct behind the frosted glass door.
I didn't knock.
I simply reached out, grabbed the brass doorknob, and shoved the heavy wooden door wide open.
The bathroom was thick with billowing, fragrant steam.
Through the fog, the silhouette of a tall man was visible behind the frosted glass of the large walk-in tiled shower, singing off-key to some pop song playing softly from a bluetooth speaker on the vanity.
“Andrew,” I said, my voice cutting cleanly through the sound of falling water.
The singing stopped instantly.
The shower handle screeched to a halt, and the water shut off with a sudden, echoing click.
A moment later, the glass door slid open, and Andrew Parker poked his head out, wiping a wet handful of dark curls out of his eyes, looking relaxed and carelessly smug.
“Julia?” he blinked, clearly startled as he stared at me standing fully clothed in my tailored trench coat and heels in the middle of his steamy bathroom.
“What in the world are you doing here? I thought I told Mom to keep you busy at the house this weekend so I could finish—wait, how did you even get up here?”
He stepped halfway out of the shower, wrapping a white towel loosely around his waist, water droplets glistening on his broad shoulders.
He flashed his trademark, boyish sales-manager grin—the smile that had disarmed me seven years ago.
“Did you miss me that much on your birthday, sweetheart? Come on, don't look at me like a drill sergeant. Strip off that heavy coat and jump in the shower with me. We can open a bottle of champagne later.”
I didn't move an inch.
I didn't blink.
I simply stared at him with eyes so cold and empty that the boyish smile slowly melted off Andrew’s face, replaced by a sudden, creeping unease.
“Who is Chloe Montgomery, Andrew?” I asked softly.
The air in the bathroom instantly dropped twenty degrees.
Andrew froze mid-stride, his hand gripping the edge of the glass shower door so tightly his knuckles turned white.
The color vanished from his tanned face, leaving him looking pasty, sickly, and utterly cornered.
“What... what did you say?” he stammered, his voice pitching an octave higher.
“Chloe Montgomery,” I repeated, pronouncing every syllable with crystal-clear articulation.
“The twenty-six-year-old commercial real estate broker in Buffalo. The registered managing partner of Apex Holdings LLC. The woman you've been funding with forty-five thousand dollars siphoned out of our joint household checking account over the past twelve months.”
Andrew’s jaw dropped slack.
He stared at me as if I had suddenly transformed into an alien life form right before his eyes.
“You... you've been hacking my accounts?” he choked out, panic flaring violently in his eyes.
“How long have you—who told you—?”
“Marcus Cole and the forensic accounting team at Harrison, Miller & Cole told me everything, Andrew,” I replied, stepping closer until I was standing right at the threshold of the bathroom tile.
“Every single wire transfer, every fraudulent consulting fee, every hotel receipt in Buffalo. It's all neatly compiled in a comprehensive legal portfolio sitting in the trunk of my Porsche outside.”
Andrew swallowed hard, his throat bobbing convulsively as he realized the magnitude of the catastrophic wreckage he had sleepwalked into.
“Julia... wait... let me explain,” he stammered, taking a desperate step forward, extending a wet hand toward my shoulder.
“It’s not what you think! Apex Holdings is just a business investment! Chloe is just a... a corporate associate! Things got complicated, but we can talk about this! We can go back to Rochester, we can send Mom back to her apartment, we can fix our marriage—!”
Before he could finish his sentence, a loud, muffled crash echoed from down the hallway near the front entrance.
Both of us froze.
The heavy oak front door swung open, and light, clicking footsteps echoed rapidly across the pine floorboards of the living room.
“Babe?” a sweet, melodic female voice called out cheerfully from the hallway.
“I forgot my designer sunglasses on the counter, and I couldn't bear to drive back to Buffalo without—oh!”
The footsteps stopped abruptly outside the open door of the master bathroom.
A young, attractive blonde woman in tight designer jeans and a silk designer blouse stepped into the doorway, holding a pair of oversized sunglasses in her hand.
May you like
She froze, her blue eyes darting from Andrew standing half-naked in a towel to me standing rigidly in my black trench coat and heels.
Chloe Montgomery had arrived right on cue.
