Charlotte stood frozen, completely stunned by the sight. It wasn't until a waiter pulled the door shut, cutting off the view of the illicit embrace, that she finally blinked and regained her senses. Were my eyes playing tricks on me? Hector and Helena... here?

"Charlotte!" Michael’s voice called out, pulling her back to reality.

She hurriedly ducked back into their private room and shut the door. Her heart was racing. "I just saw—"

But before she could finish, her phone vibrated. It was Luna. Charlotte frowned and answered with a wary "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Luna’s voice was sharp, cutting through the line with a predatory edge.

"I'm out having a meal. Why?" Charlotte’s frown deepened.

"Give me the address. Now."

"Are you insane—"

Suddenly, the cheerful voice of a waiter rang out from the hallway: "Welcome to The Limetree!"

The words were like a match to a powder keg. Luna went ballistic on the other end of the line.

"Well done, Charlotte! I gave you two days to find a husband, but here you are seducing mine instead! Just you wait, you shameless wench!"

"Hey—"

The line went dead before Charlotte could even breathe a word of defense.

Why is my luck this abysmal? Charlotte thought, leaning her head against the door. I just wanted a quiet meal, and now I’m a scapegoat again. Luna must have a tracker on Hector’s phone. He’s not answering her, so she assumes he’s with another woman—and of course, she thinks that woman is me. And that waiter... his timing couldn't have been more disastrous.

"What's wrong? Who was that?" Michael asked, noticing her pale face.

"It was Luna," Charlotte answered petulantly. "She started screaming at me the second I picked up. The woman is a total psychopath."

"Why would she scream at you?"

"She thinks I’m here having dinner with Hector. Honestly..."

She bit her tongue just in time. Helena was Michael’s cousin, and they were both under this very roof. If Michael found out the truth, he’d likely lose his temper and beat Hector into a pulp right here. If that happened, Hector and Helena’s affair would be dragged into the light of day. It would ruin Hector’s career, and Helena would blame her for the fallout. Charlotte already had enough enemies; she didn't need Helena turning into a vengeful shadow too.

"Honestly, what?" Michael pressed, his protective instincts flaring.

"Nothing." Charlotte shook her head, wanting to de-escalate. "Let's just go somewhere else, Michael. Somewhere quieter."

"I’m sorry. I shouldn't have booked this place," Michael said, grabbing his keys. "It’s just that Helena couldn't stop raving about the meat fondue here."

Charlotte paused, a cold realization settling in her gut. "Wait... did Helena know you were coming here with me?"

"Of course," Michael answered with a proud grin. "I don't eat with any other woman besides you. I told her our plans."

Charlotte’s lips curled into a rigid, forced smile. A dark uncertainty began to fill her heart. If Helena knew Michael was taking me here, why would she bring Hector to the exact same restaurant? Did she want me to catch them? Was I meant to be the witness—or the distraction?

They walked out of the restaurant toward the elevators. Just as the doors were about to close, Charlotte spotted a couple inside, their silhouettes locked in a passionate embrace.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her breath catching.

Before Michael could look over, his phone rang. He stepped aside to take the call. "Hello? Yeah, I'm out. Another day, perhaps. Let’s talk once I’ve settled my business. Okay."

By the time he hung up, the elevator had already reached the ground floor.

Charlotte hurried to the large glass window overlooking the parking lot. She looked down and, as expected, saw Hector being led toward a car by Helena. He looked limp, leaning heavily on her for support. Helena helped him into the passenger seat, hopped into the driver's side, and sped away into the night.