Chapter 13 The Perfect Wife #2
Lorenzo’s brows drew together. For a second, a rare flash of guilt and worry flickered across his face—something he didn’t even try to hide.
Later that night, as Lorenzo sat in his office, everything kept replaying in his head.
He turned to Xander, his voice filled with tension. “What about the footage? The one from the restaurant with Krystal and Esther—did you get it?”
“I checked, Mr. Moretti,” Xander answered. “The footage was completely wiped. Couldn't retrieve a thing.”
Just then, Lorenzo’s phone buzzed. He looked down.
It was a text from Krystal.
He tapped on it and opened the message instantly. His chest tightened. He hadn’t heard from her like this in weeks. No messages. No photos. No casual updates like she used to send every day. Ever since she signed the divorce papers, she’d erased herself from his world like she never existed in it.
But now, all that appeared on the screen was a single video.
He pressed play. It was security footage from the café. No audio, but clear as day. Krystal stood calmly near the table, while Esther spilled coffee on herself. Krystal hadn’t even moved from her place across the table.
Xander leaned over to peek at the screen. “I knew it,” he muttered. “Mrs. Moretti’s always been kind. She couldn’t hurt a fly.”
Lorenzo shot him a cutting glare. Xander gave a sheepish grin, instantly taking a step back.
Under his breath, Xander grumbled, “I know she’s your wife. No need to look at me like I’m trying to steal her.”
But he didn’t dare say it out loud.
Lorenzo slid the phone back into his pocket and turned to Xander, suspicious.
“How the hell did she get that footage when your so-called best hacker couldn’t retrieve it? You sure you hired the right guy?”
“Yes, sir!” Xander said quickly. “No doubt. I’d never lie to you. I swear I got the best guy in the market.”
Lorenzo didn’t respond. He pulled the phone out again, scrolled to Krystal’s name, and hit the call button. He set it to speaker.
The line connected after only a few seconds.
“Hello?” a man’s voice answered casually. “What’s up?”
Lorenzo froze.
His eyes narrowed. He lowered the phone, checked the screen.
It was Krystal’s number.
Then why the hell was a man picking up?
He brought the phone back to his ear.
“Come on, man. Speak up, I’m busy,” the guy grumbled.
Then, in the background, Lorenzo heard a voice he knew too well.
“Darren, how’s this dress for tonight?”
Krystal.
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. Every muscle in his body tensed. The man—Darren—responded, “Looks gorgeous, honey.”
That was it.
Lorenzo’s fist clenched, his lungs locked, and a rage twisted deep inside his chest. He felt like the ground had just tilted under him.
He yanked the phone down and slammed the screen with his thumb again and again like that would erase what he just heard. His chest was heaving as rage pounded through him.
He stood up fast, pacing across the floor like a caged animal, anger boiling over. “You just left me a few fucking weeks ago, and you already brought another man into your house?!”
Running a frustrated hand through his hair, he let out a sharp breath, fury clouding every corner of his mind.
***
Darren, Damion, and Krystal walked into a lavish casino. It was packed with rich players, flashing lights, and the hum of games all around. Gambling tables glittered under chandeliers. Waiters floated by with trays of drinks.
Both men wore casual suits, while Krystal was dressed in a short, chocolate-brown cocktail dress with soft cutouts at the waist that teased a glimpse of skin. The small sleeves slipped off her shoulders, framing her like art.
Her hair was tied in a high bun with loose strands framing her face, and she wore high-heeled sandals that made her legs look endless.
Darren glanced over and gave her a slow, appreciative once-over. “If your ex saw you tonight, he’d drop dead from regret.”
Krystal rolled her eyes and muttered, “Don’t ruin my night by mentioning him.”
Damion chuckled and nodded. “Tonight’s about fun—not exes.”
The three of them headed toward the VIP table reserved for them, laughter and music welcoming them in.
***
Lorenzo sat in the private lounge area of the high-end casino, twirling his phone between his fingers. A table full of drinks sat in front of him, but he hadn’t even finished one. His eyes stared blankly at the untouched drink in front of him.
The business meeting had wrapped up an hour ago, but he hadn’t paid attention to a word they’d said. His mind kept drifting back to that call—Krystal’s voice. That man’s voice calling her ‘Honey’.
Every second he thought about it, his anger boiled hotter.
Michael slid into the seat beside him, casting a glance at Lorenzo, who was dialing Krystal’s number for the fifth time in just half an hour. Once again, the call didn’t go through.
That damn woman had blocked him again!
Lorenzo's jaw clenched as he slammed the phone down on the table.
He cursed under his breath.
“I should’ve dropped her off myself,” he muttered, frustration simmering under his breath. “Should’ve picked her up when we met. At least then I’d know where the hell she lives.”
Michael leaned back, crossing one leg over the other and pouring himself a drink. “Lorenzo,” he said calmly, “I just saw Krystal out there in the club.”
Lorenzo’s head snapped toward him. “You want me to knock you out?”
Michael raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “I’m serious. Your ex-wife just walked in and took a table. I saw her with my own eyes.”
“She’s not my ex-wife!” Lorenzo growled. “We haven’t finalized the divorce yet.”
Michael just grunted and took another sip of his drink. “Sure.”
Lorenzo leaned back, grabbing another glass of whiskey. He downed it in one shot, exhaling slowly as the burn hit his throat. His posture tried to play it cool, but everything about him screamed tension.
“What’s she even doing here?” he muttered, trying to sound indifferent. “Maybe she’s just checking the place out… I haven’t seen her in a while. Where exactly did you see her?”
Michael bit back a smirk. He could see the fire under Lorenzo’s calm. “Come on, man. I’ll show you. She’s just across the main room. You’ll see I’m not lying.”
Lorenzo dropped his glass and followed. They moved through the corridor from the private lounge toward the open casino floor.
Across the room, Krystal was seated at a corner table, clinking glasses with Damion. She leaned in closer to him, her voice low.
“I don’t want people at the hospital to know I’m Astra,” she said quietly. “So when I come to help with patients or check in on things… can I just say I’m there to meet you?”
Damion frowned. “That kind of move eliminates your ability to do things publicly. The patients won’t know that they were diagnosed or treated by you so how’d you get the credit for it. It might not be a good idea.”
“I don’t care about credit,” she said, setting her glass down and pressing her hands together, pleading. Her tone softened into a girlish whine. “Please, just do me this one favor. It’s not a big deal, right?”
From a short distance away, Lorenzo had spotted her. He had just stepped out with Michael, close enough to hear her soft voice begging another man for a favor. His gaze narrowed when he noticed the two good-looking men sitting on either side of her.
“She’s really acting like I’m dead to her,” Lorenzo muttered under his breath, his eyes locked on Krystal. He huffed in disbelief. “Flirting with other men, asking them for favors, dressed like that? Going to clubs with random guys and drinking with them? Is this who she’s become?”
“Relax,” Michael muttered, giving his shoulder a quick pat. “Maybe it’s not what it looks like. Don’t jump to conclusions.”
But Lorenzo was already past reason. His breathing turned rough as he watched her laugh at something Damion said and pat his arm lightly.
He exploded. “She barely signed the damn divorce papers a few days ago, and she’s already flirting with some random guy?!”
He stormed forward without thinking, his anger erupting with every step. But Michael caught his arm and pulled him back.
“Lorenzo, stop. Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk here—but someone’s gotta say it. Stop getting pissed off every time she does something you don’t like. You already signed the divorce agreement. She's not yours anymore. She’s now your ex-wife!”
Lorenzo’s eyes flared with rage as he yanked his arm free and grabbed Michael by the collar, getting right in his face.
“Are you trying to get buried alive tonight?” he snarled.
Just then, Larry showed up, eyeing the two men. “Whose ex-wife are we fighting over?”
Michael yanked himself free and shot him a glare before turning and walking back to the private lounge.
Larry looked between the two of them in confusion, then turned to Lorenzo, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
“Come on. It’s a casino. Why are you both so tense tonight?”
Lorenzo didn’t move at first. His eyes stayed on Krystal, his body still burning with fury. But Larry tugged him along, pulling him away. Even as they walked back, Lorenzo kept glancing over his shoulder at her, jaw tight, hands balled into fists.
Back in the lounge, Michael was already drinking when Lorenzo and Larry joined him. They sat down, each of them picking up a glass.
After a few minutes, Lorenzo turned to Larry. “Did you manage to get the footage from two years ago yet?”
Larry shook his head. “Still working on it. It’s been tough, but I asked my friend Dante to help. He’s got better resources. We should get it soon.”
Michael looked over at Larry with a smug grin. “Did you hear, Larry? Lorenzo’s ex-wife is here tonight.”
Lorenzo’s sharp glare cut straight at Michael, but he ignored it blatantly and kept his gaze on Larry, who leaned in, eyes lighting up.
“For real?” Larry breathed. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” Michael said, grinning.
“Then call her here!” Larry said, his voice rising with excitement. He shot a glance at Lorenzo, smirking. “Everyone who’s met her says the same thing—sweet, obedient, kind… the perfect wife.”
Lorenzo scoffed, grabbing another glass of whiskey and downing it like water. He slammed the glass back onto the table.
“A good wife?” he muttered, his voice low and bitter. The corner of his mouth curled in anger. “Does she look like someone who deserves that title?”
Larry blinked, caught off guard. “Why—?”
Michael cut in smoothly. “She’s in the open area of the casino. Table ten. If you can bring her here, to this room, I’ll cover your drinking bills for the whole month.”
Larry grinned like a kid handed a dare. “Hell yes. I love a challenge—especially one that makes you lose money.”
He shot to his feet, straightening his shoulders with confidence. “Just wait. I’ll have her here in no time.”
With that, he strolled out of the room, wearing that arrogant grin like armor.