26. Theo

Here it is—the moment of truth.

What are you hiding, Bianca?

I"d been messaging back and forth with Rico all day to ensure I came here when she was at work. As Marcel"s mentioned, the apartment is password operated. I"d made a list earlier of possible combinations, and with a sigh, I plug them in. I try her birthday, her mother"s birthday, our anniversary, our wedding day, and none work. I"m almost scared this will get stuck if I keep trying the wrong combinations. I finally plug in my date of birth, and surprisingly, it opens.

I make my way inside almost hesitantly. It"s like now that I"m here, I don"t want to find out. But I have to, so I push through.

There"s a hallway and what seems to be three bedrooms. Okay, nothing ominous so far. I start with the first door, and when I open it, I"m blown away.

Actually, blown away doesn"t even cover it.

Inside is the biggest weapons collection I"ve ever seen outside military facilities. I take in the rifles and guns on display, and cases upon cases of what I can only presume is ammunition and more weapons. There are knives, traps, swords, weapons I don"t think I"ve seen before, and other devices that I"m sure are just as deadly as the others. What the fuck is this?

Not understanding what I"m seeing, I video call Marcel.

"You there yet?" he asks and then frowns, possibly because my face exudes the shock I feel.

"You"re not going to believe what I"m seeing."

"What?" He almost laughs, but as I switch to the rear camera, I can see his face drop.

"Holy shit!" he exclaims. "Theo, do you realize what those are?" he says in awe.

"Which ones?" I ask, considering there are too many.

"Those rifles on the wall. Man, that"s military-grade equipment. You can"t get those on the regular market. And those… wait, go to the right." I move the phone around to capture the entire room, and Marcel is almost fangirling at the sight of the knives.

"Those are Japanese daggers. I"m willing to believe they"re extremely rare too," I grunt, mostly because I"ve never been interested in guns, and I don"t know much about them.

"This is easily a couple million just in weapons." Marcel drops the bomb, and I feel my mouth gape open.

"What? A few million? Are you crazy?"

"No, I"m telling you, that"s not cheap shit."

"It"s like an entire arsenal…"

"An entire arsenal for an entire army. For one person?" He shakes his head, and I follow his logic. This is too much in the realm of superlatives for just one person.

"What could she possibly do with this?"

After filming the entire room, some portions in detail, I tell Marcel I"m going to the next bedroom.

"This looks ordinary," he says, almost disappointed, as I open the second door.

"Yeah, it"s just a bedroom." I go through the drawers, the closet, but it"s just a regular sleeping space. I"m about to leave when something catches my eye from under the bed.

"Wait." It"s like the corner of a box. I put the phone on the bed, and I get on my knees to slide it towards me. It looks like a shoebox. I open it just to say I checked it.

Inside, I find a bunch of tiny packets filled with white powder. No… I shake my head, feeling some wetness in my eyes. Surely no…

"Theo, are you there?" Marcel"s voice startles me. I grab the phone, and I immediately click to show him what I found.

"Is that…?" His eyes are the size of saucers. I don"t say anything. Instead, I open a small packet and put a little of the powder on my tongue, thus confirming my worst fears.

"Positive. It"s coke."

"That much? What is she, a dealer?" Looking at the amount she has stashed here, that would be the conclusion. But somehow, the truth is even direr.

"No, I think it"s hers."

"You"re shitting me. Bianca, a drug addict? Have you ever suspected?"

"No… never." But as I say this, past episodes are coming back to mind, of her sleepless nights, of her hands sometimes shaking, of her irritability. It makes sense now, though. It all ties in.

"Theo…"

"She"s a high-functioning drug addict, Marcel. My wife of three years is a freaking drug addict. Who knows how long she"s been on these things, with her having a double life and all?" My voice is bitter and full of disappointment. Who is she even?

"I"m so sorry, Theo," he says, and I can tell he means it. But this changes everything.

"Let"s see the last room. I don"t think there"s anything worse to find out now."

I think I spoke too soon because the moment I open the last door, I almost drop the phone.

"Double Holy Shit. Your wife is like a master spy," Marcel says because the room is an entire closet of different looks. Or yet, better said, disguises.

"I gotta go. I"ll talk to you later." My words are strained as I pocket my phone and take a step inside the room, heading straight for the mannequin in its center. Pink hair. Purple mini dress. Fishnets. Doc Martens.

It"s…

Pink.

My knees give out, and I drop on the floor.

Pink… The prostitute I"d fucked over seven years ago. And I"d met Bianca less than five years ago. I frown, unable to take this in.

Bianca is Pink.

Did she…

My head keeps shaking at the notion, but I can"t even deny it with the evidence in front of me. Why? Why would she do that?

I stand there for what seems like an eternity before my phone rings.

"She"s on the move," Rico tells me, and I mechanically reply with something.

I"m still dazed, but I remember to take a picture of the outfits before getting out of there. Evidence, I tell myself.

I feel sick to my stomach, to my head. And most of all, to my soul.

I thought my heart had been irrevocably broken when my parents had been murdered right under my nose.

But this?

It feels like my soul is being snatched out of my body.

It feels like I"m drowning in a sea of misery. And as I sit in my car a few minutes later, my head resting on the wheel, I keep repeating.

"Let it be a dream. Please let it be all just a bad dream."

* * *

It"s not a dream.

I"ve texted Marcel to meet me at the office, not trusting myself to speak and drive, or speak, or drive.

But I manage it.

I drive without killing myself, which might just have been a mercy in this situation.

I trudge my way inside my office to find Marcel already waiting for me there.

"Shit, Theo, what happened to you?"

"I just found out my wife used to be a prostitute, is currently a drug addict, and has a collection of weapons to rival a military base. Does that cover it?" I give a sad smile and plop myself into the chair.

"Wait a minute…a prostitute?"

"As you heard. A prostitute I fucked, too, years before I met Bianca." He stares at me before bringing his hand to his chin, stroking pensively.

"Do you think there"s a connection?"

"Hell if I know. But doesn"t it seem like a perfect coincidence? More than anything, I realize what a fool I"ve been. God, how many lies? I don"t even know her…"

"Theo, calm down…"

"How? How can I calm down when I find out my wife isn"t remotely who I thought she was? Pink… the prostitute, was the exact opposite of Bianca. God! I really thought she was this soft-spoken, shy girl, struggling under her father"s thumb, waiting for me to save her… That sounds so fucked now that I say it out loud, but she played me. She played me so well, knowing exactly what to do to get under my skin. She only showed me what I wanted to see. I wanted her to be helpless. I wanted her to be innocent…" My hand goes to my face, and I try to massage my temples. There"s a throbbing in my head that only seems to intensify. "Who is she?" I whisper.

"Are you going to confront her?"

"I don"t know… I don"t think I"m capable of anything right now."I think for a moment and realize I need to know more about Pink. Why? Maybe to torture myself even more.

"I"m going to give you some time. This isn"t easy to accept," Marcel says and, at some point, leaves the office. I don"t actually pay attention. I might have nodded at him…

An image springs into my mind.

"Bianca Ashby, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" I was on one knee, my hands holding the ring box in front of a stunned Bianca. She"d looked extraordinary that night. Her long, black hair had gleamed in the moonlight. Her eyes had sparkled with warmth and love and everything I"d ever wanted.

"Yes! Yes!" she"d cried. "A thousand times, yes!" That was the night she"d becomemine.

But it has all been a lie. A terrible bitterness assaults me as I realize she"s never actually been mine.

I still can"t wrap my head around why she did it. Why she went to this extent to live a double life. Was I just a smokescreen for her activities? Had she seen me as an easy target? She"d certainly known my weaknesses and had manipulated me to fall for her. Was anything that came out of her mouth real?

So many questions, and for a time, I allow myself to be overcome by grief.

The Bianca I love just doesn"t exist.

Sometime later, I manage to pull myself together long enough to approach this more calmly. One look out the window tells me it"s already night—just the perfect time for what I have in mind. I know I need answers from one more place before I confront her.

I put on my blazer and stride from my workplace, heading determinedly to my car—my destination club Palace.

Taking my phone out, I hesitate before sending Bianca a short text that I"ll be working late. At this point, I don"t even know what she might be capable of.

I get to the club, and it doesn"t take long for the bouncer to check my name against their customer list. For a strip club, Palace is incredibly anal about its privacy, probably because so many important people in high positions are customers. Another reason might be the fact that the upstairs rooms function as boudoirs for those seeking a little extra.

Once inside, I figure my best chances at finding some answers are by asking the manager and maybe talking to some girls.

It"s not easy to find my way to the manager"s office, and indeed, it"s not easy to convince him that I"m not some psycho obsessed with one of their girls. I actually have to show him my credentials for him to give me a chance.

"Pink, you say?" He purses his lips.

"Yes, around five years ago," I add, not entirely sure when she stopped working here.

Or if… but that"s something I"m not ready to consider just yet.

"I think I may remember who you"re talking about. But only because she was very odd."

"Odd? What do you mean?"

"She was always by herself, never interacting with any of the other girls. Didn"t really care about tips or other opportunities. In this business, that"s very odd. If my memory serves right, one day, she just disappeared. Stopped coming altogether."

"And do you remember when that was?"

"Not sure, but it was a long time ago."

"Thank you. Are there any girls who were here at the same time as her?"

"Let me see…" He goes to his computer, probably checking his employee charts.

"Yes, there is one. Anais. She"s actually working tonight." Before I leave, I get a description of the girl and her dancing schedule and head towards the main stage of the club. Taking a seat, I now wait for the show.

Halfway through the set and three girls left until Anais, I am bored out of my mind. I keep checking my watch, and the time seems to move even slower than before. I almost groan in frustration.

I raise my head and scan the club, my eyes zeroing in on pink hair. I blink twice, clearly not seeing right, and it disappears.

Of course, at this point, I"m probably hallucinating. I"m clearly running on borrowed energy. One just needs to make a list of everything I found out in one week, my attempted assassination notwithstanding, to conclude I"m owed a respite.

I settle a little more comfortably into my seat.

Out of nowhere, I feel a hand on my shoulder from behind and hot breath in my ear.

"Long time no see, handsome." My head almost snaps at that sound. Surely not? I take a deep breath and turn around. Surely yes.

Pink, in all her glory, fishnets included.

I struggle to keep a straight face.

"Pink!" I will myself to exclaim, surprised, but glad to see her. Inside my head, questions pile on top of questions. Does she know I know? What is she doing here? Fuck… Fuck…

She drapes herself on top of me without any preliminaries, her ass digging purposefully into my crotch. The proximity allows me to take a good look at my deceiver.

Her pink hair is styled as it"s always been—short bob with bangs. The difference in makeup, the green contacts, and the fake beauty mark on top of her upper lip make her unrecognizable.

At least I wasn"t that stupid.I reluctantly tell myself.

Her face contouring is harsh, making her naturally soft face all angles. No way I would have ever considered Pink to be Bianca if proof of it hadn"t stared me right into the eyes.

"You still work here?" I make my best attempt at conversation. Even her voice sounds huskier than usual, or maybe it"s the acoustic in the club.

"Of course," she lies and smiles seductively, her hands roving about my body. What is her game?

"Tired of that girl of yours?" she asks with a pout, and it takes all my willpower to control my expression. She"s got to be the ultimate liar. There"s absolutely no tell, no trace of guilt even. It"s then that I decide to turn the tables on her. Maybe it"s petty revenge, but she has brought it on herself.

"She"s… bland," I reply, my fingers teasing her jaw before jerking her closer. My mouth is now maybe one inch away from hers.

"Want me to make it better?" She licks her lips. I immediately capture her tongue in my mouth, sucking on it. Her hands wrap around my neck, and I bring her closer to my body, my mouth devouring her in a punishing manner.

"Upstairs!" I say, and she slowly nods, probably still dazed from the kiss.

I grab her hand and all but drag her upstairs, where an attendee asks us what we are in the mood for.

"Torture chamber," I say, knowing that"s the one place I hadn"t gone to with Pink in the past. While our encounters had been wild, rough, and sensual, we"d never ventured into more dangerous territory. Honestly, I"d never thought something would ever crack my carefully built control, but Bianca is awfully close to unleashing a storm. There"s a reason I always held back…

But somehow, I know my little deceiver can take it.

"Hmm… feeling frisky?" She purrs on my arm as I lead her towards the room.

"You have no idea, babe."