Ficorpio
Chapter 1
My wife was an influencer who wore yoga leggings all day, and she had an incredible figure.
That afternoon, a heavy rainstorm rolled in. By the time she got home, she was soaked from head to toe.
“Ethan, bring me a towel!”
“Coming!”
I answered and hurried over with a towel in hand.
Then I froze.
Two large, glowing handprints were visible on the seat of my wife’s yoga leggings.
I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me and rubbed them hard.
The handprints were still there.
And judging by their size, they couldn’t be mine. My hands weren’t nearly that large.
“Ethan? What are you staring at?” Claire asked, puzzled.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I just think you look especially beautiful today.”
I tossed out the first excuse that came to mind.
“Really? Maybe it’s because I’m wearing a new lipstick.” Claire sounded pleased with herself.
“That must be it.”
I handed her the towel.
“Dry your hair first, then take a hot shower. You don’t want to catch a cold.”
“You’re the best, darling.”
Claire took the towel and kissed me as she passed.
Then, right in front of me, she peeled off the yoga leggings and dropped them on the table.
“Ethan, toss these in the washing machine for me.”
With that, she walked into the bathroom. A moment later, I heard the rush of water.
The sound suddenly made me realize something.
Claire hadn’t driven home today.
Otherwise, how could she have ended up completely drenched?
But that wasn’t what mattered right now. I had to find out who those handprints belonged to.
I picked up the leggings and carried them to the laundry room.
After locking the door, I spread them across the ironing board. Then I placed both my hands over the glowing marks.
The handprints definitely weren’t mine.
The hands were several inches longer than mine.
I leaned closer to study the lines and noticed that parts of the prints overlapped around the knuckles.
That meant the hands hadn’t simply been pressed against the fabric.
Someone had grabbed her.
A chill ran through me.
So Claire really was hiding something from me.
But whose hands were they?
I focused harder, searching the prints for any other clue.
Suddenly, my pupils contracted.
Around the ring-finger area of one handprint, there was a distinct break in the pattern.
That was…
A ring.
“Ethan? Are you still out there?”
The bathroom door opened. Claire poked her head out, wrapped in a towel and surrounded by the scent of body wash.
I hurriedly grabbed the pair of Yoga Leggings and shoved them into the hamper beside me.
“I’m here.”
I opened the door and walked over.
Chapter 2
“I was checking the washing machine. It seemed to be malfunctioning.”
Claire didn’t suspect a thing. Barefoot, she walked up to me and slipped into my arms like a cat, her voice soft and sweet.
“Forget the washing machine.”
“Darling… The rain is so heavy tonight, and I’m a little scared. Will you hold me?”
I lowered my gaze to the arms wrapped around me.
There was a blue ring around her wrist too.
My heart sank even further, but I kept my expression unchanged. I reached out and gently stroked her back.
“Of course.”
Claire, what exactly are you hiding from me?
What did that ringed stranger do to you?
The next morning, sunlight pierced the sheer curtains and filled the bedroom with light.
Claire sat at the vanity, humming tunelessly as she applied her makeup. I lay on the bed with my eyes half-closed, watching her carefully shape her brows and eyes.
“Darling, you’re awake?”
She caught my movement in the mirror, then turned and gave me a sweet smile.
“Breakfast is on the table. I’m meeting my business partner today, and I’ll definitely have to drink, so I’m not taking the car.”
“Okay.”
I sat up and nodded, my eyes narrowing at once.
Not taking the car again?
Claire picked up the phone from the nightstand and prepared to leave. As she passed me, I saw the screen covered in dense blue fingerprints.
Her long, slender fingerprints had been overlapped by another set that was much larger.
An image slowly formed in my mind.
Claire was sending a message when that person came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, both hands closing over hers.
What kind of position was that?
“What is it, darling? Why do you keep staring at my phone?”
A flash of panic crossed Claire’s eyes.
“Nothing. I just thought your new manicure looked nice.”
I looked away and swung my legs out of bed.
Claire visibly relaxed and pouted.
“Of course it does. It cost me over a thousand dollars.”
“I’m off, sweetheart!”
The click-clack of her heels faded into the distance, and the villa instantly lost its warmth.
I stood at the second-floor window and watched her get into a black commercial minivan and drive away.
Without even washing up, I grabbed a jacket and headed for the Underground Garage.
Claire’s white Porsche was parked there.
If she had really betrayed me, there had to be evidence inside the car.
I took a deep breath and pressed the button on my key fob.
“Beep, beep.”
The car unlocked.
I walked around to the passenger side and yanked the door open.
Even though I had braced myself, the sight inside still made me stagger back two steps.
Blue light filled the dim interior.
Countless overlapping human silhouettes covered every surface.
I forced down my anger and continued searching.
Chapter 3
There were blue handprints on the grab handle above the passenger seat, along the edge of the center console, across the windshield, and even on the driver’s seat.
And around the ring finger, there was an unmistakable break in the pattern.
It was him.
The man who had left those prints on Claire’s yoga leggings last night was the same man.
Just how far had they taken things?
And did Claire even still see me as her husband?
“Ding.”
My phone chimed. I pulled it out and looked at the screen.
“Hubby~ Help!”
“I left an extremely important contract on the desk in the study!”
“Can you bring it to the studio for me?”
“My partner is about to look it over. It’s urgent, urgent, urgent!”
Perfect. An opportunity had just fallen into my lap.
The studio was Claire’s territory—and it should also be the place where the ringed man appeared most often.
“Sure. I’ll bring it over now.”
I went upstairs, grabbed the folder, and headed out in my Hummer.
Claire’s studio occupied an office in a high-rise in the city’s business district.
I rarely came there.
She had always said she didn’t like having an unprofessional outsider like me around to disturb her work.
Now I knew she had been hiding something from me all along.
When I pushed open the glass doors, the receptionist recognized me and didn’t try to stop me.
“Mr. Mercer, Claire’s in the conference room.”
I nodded and headed inside.
The conference-room door was made of translucent ridged glass. Through it, I could vaguely make out two figures sitting inside.
Claire’s laughter drifted through the narrow gap in the door. Her voice sounded unusually flirtatious, nothing like someone discussing business.
I drew a deep breath, knocked twice, and pushed the door open without waiting.
“Claire, I brought the documents.”
The laughter inside stopped abruptly.
Claire sat beside the coffee table, preparing tea. Across from her, in a single armchair, sat a man who looked to be in his mid-forties.
He wore a dark gray pinstriped suit, his hair combed into perfect place. A Patek Philippe gleamed on his wrist. With one leg crossed over the other, he studied me with faint amusement.
I knew him. Victor Sterling, one of the city’s most prominent venture capitalists.
How could a man like him possibly be interested in Claire’s small studio?
“Oh, honey, you’re quick!” Claire set down the teapot and came toward me, slipping her arm naturally through mine as she introduced me to Victor.
“Victor, this is my husband, Ethan Carter.”
“Darling, this is Victor. He’s the new partner in my studio.”
I looked at Victor without expression and said nothing.
“Mr. Carter. A pleasure to meet you.”