Cheating Season

By year four of our marriage, Scott had picked up a college girl—Gigi. Bright, beautiful, full of life. She had him, a billionaire, eating street food and chasing after her favorite esports player. Scott called. "Not coming home. Watching Joel Arnoult's match." Beside him, Gigi scoffed. "That boring old woman—does she even know who Joel Arnoult is?" They had no clue. The second the call ended, Joel had me pinned in the back of a dimly lit car. His teeth grazed my neck—sharp, teasing, a little painful. "Leila, if I win, how are you gonna reward me?" Chapter 1 I met Gigi Digg for the first time on my twenty-sixth birthday. I was all smiles, chatting with guests, keeping up appearances. "Scott's running late—work emergency. But he already sent his gift ahead—" Didn't even get to finish. Scott Fletcher strolled in right then, and he wasn't alone. Gigi Digg, in a red dress, was clinging to his arm like she belonged there. She looked around, eyes wide with excitement, voice chirpy. "So this is the fun place you were talking about?" Her gaze landed on me for two whole seconds before flitting away. "Ooh, that cake looks amazing! I want some!" Scott watched her, amused, while she turned my birthday into her playground. The whispers started. "She's bold, huh? Flaunting herself right in front of Leila Lloyd." "Not surprising. Scott spoils her. And yeah, he's married to Leila—but Leila practically threw herself at him." "God, how humiliating. Getting disrespected on her own birthday and just taking it? If that were me, I'd rather die." Draped in my designer gown, I ignored their sneers. I found Scott and kept my voice low. "We agreed—you wouldn't shove your mistress in my face. Basic decency—" He cut me off. A few drinks with Gigi had left his gaze a little glazed, but the contempt in his eyes? Crystal clear. He chuckled. "Leila, I must've spoiled you too much before." His smile sharpened. "You really think you get to lecture me on decency?" I went still. The chandelier's glow poured down on me, too bright, too harsh. Under his mocking stare, the armor I'd spent years building cracked, melting like snow in the sun. Marrying Scott, a Fletcher, when I was just a Lloyd by name? Everyone thought I'd hit the jackpot. Truth was, I never belonged to the Lloyd family at all. "How pathetic. But then again, a woman from that kind of background was never—" Someone's voice behind me carried a little too far. Scott heard it too. He didn't react, just handed me a check. "That project you wanted? Fund it yourself. And Leila, don't act like I've treated you that badly." He raised an eyebrow. "Learn to please me better, and maybe you'll be worth a little more." *** The train wreck of a party finally ended. Scott left, Gigi draped over him, wasted. They didn't even wait till they were out of sight—just started making out under the garden lights. I stood by the rain-speckled glass and watched. Chapter 2 I tucked the check away and grabbed my phone, opening the pinned chat. Before the party, I'd sent a simple text: [Kind of miss you.] Six replies. Five hours ago: [Miss you too.] Four hours ago: [Heading to practice.] Three hours ago: [Actually, I don't mind being interrupted during practice.] Two hours ago: [They told me it's your birthday.] One hour ago: [Happy birthday.] Just now: [I'm coming to see you.] I smiled. I typed back: [No need. I'll see you next week at your match.] After a long time, two messages arrived. [Okay.] [Don't play me.] *** Over the next month, Scott paraded Gigi around in public, openly flaunting their affair. Like two teenagers drunk on love. The almighty Scott Fletcher let her drag him to street food stalls, snap silly photo booth pics, and kiss under the Bali sunset. Even followed her to an esports match—one featuring Joel Arnoult. Nineteen. A phenomenon. Last year, he led his team to a world championship. Right now, he was the biggest name in esports. Outside the stadium, Gigi sported a headband with his name, clutching Scott's arm as she posed for photos. Scott, clearly irritated, yanked her closer. "What's so great about some kid?" Gigi giggled, kissing his cheek. "I just like watching him play. But, of course, I love you the most!" From my car, I watched it all. Nausea crept up my throat, but before I could look away—my phone rang. Scott. Cold. Impatient. "That project you mentioned? We'll talk another day. I'm busy tonight. Not coming home." I let out a quiet laugh and deliberately asked, "Busy with what?" "Watching Joel Arnoult's match—" Before he could finish, Gigi's scoff cut in. "That boring old woman—does she even know who Joel Arnoult is?" Through the car window, I saw her snatch the phone from Scott's hand. "Leila Lloyd, don't ask things you shouldn't. I'm hanging up." Arrogant. Spoiled. Willful. But young. Beautiful. Blooming like a flower at its peak. So Scott just pinched her cheek, amused, and led her into the VIP section. Everyone preferred youth and beauty. Myself included. My phone lit up again—Joel. "Are you here or not?" His voice was impatient. "Last time, you bailed on me. Don't tell me you're doing it again." "I'm here." I knocked lightly against the car window. "But... you're too popular. I could only get a regular seat. I'll find you after the match." Joel scoffed. "Tch. Do you really think you need to buy a ticket to see me play? I told the club to save you a suite. Just go straight there." A pause. Then— "Have you thought about it? Last time, you promised to make it up to me. If I win tonight, what's my reward?" "What do you want?" "Anything I say?" Chapter 3 His voice came low, husky. Even through the phone, I could picture the smirk, the sharp, striking eyes darkening when they landed on me. I chuckled, indulgent. "Anything." A beat of silence. Then— "Leila, if I take the championship, you're mine tonight." The match began. Through the glass, I watched Joel slip on his headset, fingers flying across the keyboard. His expression? Sharp. Unshakable. Locked in. Not once did he falter. Until the final score blazed across the screen—3:0. [Champions!!!] Only then did he stand, bathed in the deafening cheers, the flashing lights. And through the chaos, his eyes found mine. I mouthed, "Congrats." He grinned, mimicking me. "Now, you're mine." Tonight belonged to Joel. *** By the time the post-match interviews wrapped, it was late. Outside, a light drizzle misted the air. I had just slipped into the dim back path toward the parking lot when a hand grabbed me—yanking me into a car. "Trying to run again?" The crisp scent of rain clung to the night, but his body burned hot. A single word flickered through my mind—restless. I tensed, but he only held me tighter. Sighing, I gave in. "I wasn't running. You were still in the interview, so I went to take care of something. I didn't expect you to finish so quickly—" "You always say things so nicely, but no one ever really knows what you're thinking." His arms locked around me from behind. He was kissing my ear. Warm breath. Slow exhales against my hair. A tingling sensation followed. Each exhale brushed against my hair, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. "The interview wasn't over. I got bored. So I left. I wanted to see you." A nineteen-year-old with boundless energy. Under the dim car light, he kissed me inch by inch. Then—his teeth grazed my neck, a sharp bite leaving a faint sting. "Leila, you made a promise." His voice dripped with amusement. "I won. How are you going to reward me tonight?" "I—" My vision blurred. I blinked hard, pushing back the tears threatening to well up from the intensity of it all. And just as my sight cleared—two painfully familiar figures appeared. "I told you, Scott! This is Joel Arnoult's car!" A second later, Gigi bent down, rapping on the window, voice bright and eager. "Mr. Arnoult! I'm a huge fan! Can you sign something for me and my boyfriend?" *** Gigi was so close—just inches away. Logically, she couldn't see inside. But under her expectant gaze, my whole body locked up. Behind me, Joel chuckled, low and rough. "You're nervous?" His teeth left my skin. The sting couldn't register before warmth replaced it—wet, lingering. His breath came quicker, fanning over the back of my neck. "If you're so afraid of getting caught, why'd you come to me in the first place?" His tone dipped—teasing, dangerous. "Or maybe... I should just roll down the window and tell them to get lost. What do you think?" For the first time, I caught a glimpse of something beneath the usual playfulness—a quiet, untamed madness. Chapter 4 When silence stretched too long, Gigi's face tightened, annoyance flickering in her eyes. She yanked Scott's sleeve. He stepped up, radiating arrogance. "Mr. Arnoult, I'm Scott Fletcher, CEO of Fletcher Corp. My girlfriend wants your autograph." Like his title alone guaranteed obedience. Silence. Then Joel scoffed, cold and sharp. He grabbed his jacket and tossed it over me, blocking my view entirely. Before I could react, he pushed the car door open and stepped out, moving with effortless ease. Wrapped in fabric, all I saw was shifting light and shadow— Joel's voice was razor-sharp: "Tch. I don't know you." Scott's tone darkened. "What did you just say?" Joel's words cut clean. "I said, I don't know you." Then, with a lazy cruelty: "What, are you deaf or just stupid?" Scott, coddled and worshipped his whole life, had never been humiliated like this. Even without seeing his face, I could picture the fury twisting his expression. I smiled slightly. "Wait... is that—" Gigi gasped. "Is that a skirt in the car—" Before she could finish, Joel shut her down, voice flat and lethal. "What's it to you? Get lost." *** The car door slammed shut. Joel slid back into his seat. I moved to shrug off the jacket, but before I could, his fingers closed around my wrist. One sharp tug—my vision cleared, but soft fabric twisted around my wrists, pinning them above my head. He leaned in, inch by inch, his striking features sharp in the dim light. Displeasure burned in his gaze. "So, that was your cheating husband? What a coincidence." Up close, the cold arch of his brow cut even deeper. Our bodies pressed together, heat pooling between us. I let out a quiet, amused sigh. "And how am I any different from him?" Joel didn't answer. Instead, he kissed me—deep, forceful, claiming. The familiar scent of blue eucalyptus and rain filled the air, wrapping around me, seeping into my skin. As my mind blurred in the pull of him, his voice cut through—low, certain. "At the very least, I have better taste than him. Leila, you chose me." Outside, rain drizzled soft against the car. Inside, condensation streaked the windows, a misty reflection of the storm unraveling between us. *** Joel's place wasn't far—just a thirty-minute drive. The second we stepped inside, his hands found my shoulders. He kissed me—devouring, relentless. "I'll be gentle," he murmured. "I won't hurt you." His breath burned against my skin as he moved lower, his palm tracing the sharp curve of my shoulder blade. Then—he stopped. His fingers froze over the uneven ridges. His breathing turned rough. "...What's this?" His voice sharpened. "Did he hurt you?" I hesitated, then understood. The whip scars. A soft laugh slipped out. "No. With our families' business ties, he wouldn't dare—" Chapter 5 I never finished my sentence. He kissed me again, swallowing the rest of my words in heat and recklessness. *** Morning crept in, the sky just beginning to lighten. Beside me, Joel slept soundly. Our clothes—mine tangled with his—lay crumpled on the floor. In the dim light slipping through the curtains, I spared him one last glance before slipping out of bed. Downstairs, I slid into my car. Tammy handed me an iced Americano the second I shut the door. "Ms. Lloyd, the second phase of the stock acquisition was completed last night. No traces back to us so far." I took a sip, listening as she ran through the details. "Also, your father called this morning. He's demanding you return to the estate today." I nodded. "Ignore him. If he calls again, block the number. Everything else moves forward as planned." Tammy acknowledged with a nod but hesitated before starting the car, eyes flicking to my neck. "Ms. Lloyd... your neck." I checked the rearview mirror. Yeah. Obvious. Calmly, I buttoned my shirt to the collar. "Don't worry about it. Just a puppy bite." *** I'd planned to swing by home for a quick change before heading to the office. Didn't expect to find Scott there. He lounged on the couch, shirt unbuttoned, casually flipping through a stack of documents. The second he saw me, his expression darkened. "Leila, don't you think you owe me an explanation?" My gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. The divorce agreement. I stayed silent. "Say something. What, cat got your tongue?" He shot to his feet, closing the distance in a few strides. "You actually think you have the right to ask for a divorce?" Scorn dripped from his voice. "Have you forgotten how pathetic you were? Clinging to my leg, begging me to marry you?" The papers hit my face. A sharp edge sliced the skin near my eye. Warm blood trickled down, sticky against my fingers as I touched the wound. I exhaled slowly. "I thought you and Gigi were in love. Just giving her the place she deserves." "You don't get to decide anything about me." Scott let out a low, derisive laugh, his voice dripping with malice. "Leila, you're just a dog your family trained and threw at me. And now, because they've been treating you a little better—because you can string a few words together at Lloyd Corp—you think you matter?" His fingers clamped around my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "The second phase of the Rivera project? Fletcher Corp is pulling out, cutting all ties with Lloyd Corp. Consider it a lesson—you only matter when I say you do. That's the only time you get to act like a person." With a scoff, he let go, slipping right back into his usual smugness. "Think long and hard about how you're gonna make this up to me. Maybe if you get on your knees again, I'll consider forgiving you." *** Scott left. I didn't move. Sunlight streamed through the windows, stretching long shadows across the floor. Standing there, I exhaled slowly and reached for my phone. That's when I saw Joel's name trending. #JoelGirlfriend [According to inside sources, after last night's regional finals, Joel Arnoult was spotted in the parking lot with a mystery woman. The two appeared to be intimately involved...] Chapter 6 The gossip account that broke the news had posted a photo. A dimly lit parking lot, rain streaking down. Joel stood by the open car door, one hand braced against the frame, his expression cold, gaze sharp. Inside the car, the person was completely hidden—except for a glimpse of soft blue fabric from a skirt and the logo on a pair of high heels. The comment section exploded. [If I remember right, Joel Arnoult is only 19? He's already dating?] [19 is legal. What's the big deal? It's not affecting his matches.] [Am I the only one curious about who his girlfriend is? That brand—those heels cost tens of thousands, and that pair is a limited edition.] [He didn't get scooped up by some rich woman, did he?] The club called almost immediately. "Boss, reporters are already asking. Should we handle PR?" I pressed a finger to the cut on my cheek, my voice steady. "Deny everything about Joel's relationship." But before a press conference could even be arranged— Someone caught him on camera at a café near the club. The photo showed Joel in front of a strawberry cake, his expression dark. Even through the screen, his irritation was obvious. A bold fan approached. "Mr. Arnoult, are you in a bad mood?" His eyes flicked over. "Yeah. Had a fight with my girlfriend." The video shot to the top of the trending list. His call came just as I reached the gates of the Lloyd family mansion. "Leila." His voice was tight. "So you really planned to sleep with me and run?" *** The last traces of daylight bled into the night. I stood in the deepening hues of the sunset, my voice calm. "Yes," I said. "Got what I wanted. Turns out you weren't that special. Boring." Silence. Then Joel spoke, voice trembling ever so slightly. "I told you—don't play me, Leila." A quiet laugh escaped me. "Joel, I warned you. I'm no better than Scott." Silence again. Then the line went dead. I shoved the doors open. A ceramic plate came flying—smashing right into my forehead. "Leila Lloyd!" My father's voice was ice. "I sent you to the Fletchers to secure Scott and keep our deal intact. One job. And you failed?" His face was stone. "Study. Now." Inside, the leather whip waited. The scars on my back came from the last time I refused to marry Scott. Back then, his fiancée was my father's real daughter—Miriam. But after some stupid fight, she ran off and married someone else out of spite. Scott lost it. Threatened to sever all ties with the Lloyds. So my father dragged me back—the illegitimate daughter who'd spent more than twenty years in the slums. Forty lashes. By the end, I was on the floor, back split open, flesh raw, bones nearly showing. Somewhere through the pain, I heard my own voice: "Fine... I'll go. I'll make him marry me." Tonight felt just like four years ago. Chapter 7 The whip sliced through the air and landed on my back. This time, I didn't shed a single tear. Only ambition thrived in the pain, growing deep within my flesh. Under the bright light of the study, I tilted my head back and smiled. "Dad, I'll find a way to keep Fletcher Corp working with Lloyd Corp." *** That night, I drank a little. I dreamt of the first time I met Joel. Back then, he had just transferred from an international team to the domestic league—already one of the most sought-after players in esports. At some mid-tier business gala, he was one of the night's main attractions. I'd stepped into the garden with my wine when I ran into him. "Hello, Mr. Arnoult. I'm Leila Lloyd," I greeted with a polite smile. "Oh, I know you." His tone was lazy. "Inside, they're saying you're a doormat. I saw your husband speeding off with his girlfriend when I stepped out." My smile didn't budge. "I know." "Doesn't that piss you off?" "No." "Don't you want to get back at him?" "And how would I do that?" Under the moonlight, his sharp eyes and youthful features stood out. Something about him felt... dangerous. A rush of drunken boldness made me lean in. "Unless... you'd be willing to help me return the favor?" Joel laughed. "Not really my kind of hobby." I blinked. "Shame." I started to step back, but he caught my wrist. "Giving up that easily?" He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe if you tried a little harder, I'd consider it." *** My phone rang, jolting me awake. I answered. Joel's voice came through. "Leila, I'm outside." *** The autumn air was crisp, but Joel burned. His kiss was rough, heated, full of frustration. "You act like you don't care, like you're done with me." His breath was hot against my skin. "But that was just for show, wasn't it?" My head was still foggy with alcohol. I frowned, pinching his chin. "Shut up. If you're gonna do it, do it. Stop talking so much." Joel stilled. Then, slowly, he smiled. It seemed dangerous. "You said it." The night wind howled through the city. By the end, my fingers were digging into his shoulders, my body trembling. Under the warm glow of the light, his palm pressed against my skin, slipping through like water. Then Scott's call came in. I tensed instantly. Joel exhaled sharply, catching my wrist before I could decline. Instead, he answered. Scott's voice was thick with alcohol. "Leila, went home, got yourself beaten—still haven't figured out how to make it up to me?" He let out a low chuckle. "Forget it. I'll give you a chance. I'm at Obsidian. Come pick me up." "I'm—" Before I could even say "I'm busy," Joel suddenly thrust deeper, knocking the air from my lungs. Even trying hard, I couldn't stop the breathy sounds that escaped. Chapter 8 Scott's tone changed instantly. "What are you doing?" But I couldn't answer or breathe. Only when Joel finally eased up did I manage to fumble for the phone with shaking fingers and hang up. He let out a low chuckle, breath warm against my ear. "Leila... from now on, this time belongs to me." *** Joel left the next morning. Right before he did, I hesitated—then said it anyway. "You shouldn't have told the reporters you have a girlfriend. You're still young—" He glanced at me. "Aren't you my girlfriend?" "It's just for fun." "Oh." He nodded, completely unfazed. "Then you're only allowed to have fun with me." I had no response to that. *** A few days later, a grand business gala unfolded. The moment I stepped in, my gaze locked onto the man at the center of it all—Scott, basking in admiration. And Gigi, draped over his arm. Someone in the crowd called out, "Leila Lloyd is here!" The air tightened. Conversations died. Every eye turned to me. Scott let the silence stretch before sneering. "Realized your little stunt didn't work, so now you're chasing after me?" Gigi giggled. "Leila, this is just sad. If you're trying to make Scott jealous, at least make it believable. I mean, look at you—who would even want you?" Then it clicked. Scott had heard me on the phone that night. And yet, he still thought it was all just a game—a desperate bid for his attention. A few instigators at his side grinned, cueing up an old recording—one from four years ago, when I had begged him to marry me. "Mr. Fletcher, I'm Leila Lloyd. You don't need to know me now, but if we get married, I can help you—" In the recording, he had just stumbled out of a club, reeking of booze, his gaze dripping with mockery. "An illegitimate daughter like you? What could you possibly offer me? You'd be better off getting on your knees, saying something sweet—begging properly. Who knows? I might actually consider it. Like... say you'll be my most loyal dog." A pause. Then—the unmistakable sound of my knees hitting the ground. "Mr. Fletcher, as long as you marry me, I'll be your most loyal... dog." Laughter erupted in the background. "She actually said it!" "An illegitimate daughter desperate to climb up—did you really think she had any dignity?" Scott, still holding Gigi, raised an eyebrow, his smirk as taunting as it had been back then. "Instead of playing these little games, why not get on your knees again?" The weight of a hundred stares pressed down—judgment, amusement, scorn. Then, from the crowd, a startled voice: "Wait—her shoes! They're the same ones Joel Arnoult's girlfriend was wearing! No one can get their hands on that limited edition pair now!" Scott's face darkened. And before he could react— A wave of cheers erupted from the entrance. "Joel Arnoult is here!"