BAD WIFE

Chapter {27}

Clarissa mustered every ounce of courage as she stepped out of the vehicle, her heels clicking softly against the concrete pathway leading to the house. The front door was painted a deep, blood-red hue with a golden knocker in the center and a modest bell mounted beside it. She lifted her hand to press the button, but it trembled mid-air. When she finally gathered herself enough to push it, the sound wasn't a friendly ding but a sharp, grating buzz that set her teeth on edge.

She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, forcing her nerves into submission. Each second that passed felt like a lifetime. A tight coil of dread twisted in her stomach, and for a fleeting moment, she considered turning around. But it was too late.

The door creaked open, revealing a young man with sandy brown hair, piercing green eyes, and a confused expression that mirrored her inner chaos. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black tee, and she had no idea who he was.

"What the..." he muttered, his jaw going slack.

Clarissa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to appear more composed than she felt. "Um... Can I come in? I'd like to speak to Regina."

Baylee had told her to storm in like she owned the place and demand answers—but instincts pulled her toward politeness, even now.

The guy scratched his head, blinking at her like she was a hallucination. "Uh... sure, I guess."

Without waiting for more awkwardness, she swept past him and stepped inside. The space was compact, an open floor plan revealing the living room, kitchen, and dining area in one glance. But neither Jacob nor Regina were in sight.

Turning to the stranger, she asked more firmly, "Where are they?"

"Backyard." He motioned toward a set of glass sliding doors beyond the small dining table.

Her pulse kicked up as she approached the doors. She braced herself—then saw them.

Beyond the glass, under the soft glow of string lights, was a cozy patio. And on the swing sofa—Jacob. Or what she thought was Jacob. Regina sat in his lap, her back to the door, draped over him like she belonged there. Her arms looped around his neck, her face close to his, lips locked in a heated kiss.

The sight gutted Clarissa.

Her stomach twisted violently. She shut her eyes, fighting the urge to collapse or vomit—maybe both. The betrayal hit her like a wave crashing down, suffocating and cruel. She clenched her fists, barely holding back a scream. The lies. The vows. The way he swore on his children. God, he'd sold it so well.

She slid the door open and stepped outside.

They didn't hear her. They were too lost in each other, too wrapped up in their own disgusting little world. Rage crackled under her skin as she began to clap, the sound sharp and deliberate.

Regina's head snapped around with a flirtatious grin that vanished the instant her gaze landed on Clarissa. Her body jolted upright. "Oh my—"

"The world's best actor award goes to..." Clarissa's voice dripped venom.

The man beneath Regina stood quickly, but as Clarissa's eyes locked on him—something didn't add up. Her breath caught in her throat. He looked like Jacob... almost exactly like him.

But he wasn't Jacob.

Her eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth in pure shock.

The sliding doors opened again behind her.

"Clair?" Jacob's voice echoed from behind.

She spun around, stunned. There he was—very much not the man outside. Her shock deepened into confusion, then something else... terror, disbelief, betrayal all rolled into one.