Chapter 1
Digital Deception
DAISY
Tuesday morning begun like any other.
I woke up early, slipped into our home gym for Pilates, showered, then made breakfast. Lucus had left overnight for a red eye flight and per usual he’d said goodbye in style, making me orgasm twice before he was satisfied—leaving me drained and sated until he returned.
Despite being married for eight years, that passion still remained, bright and thriving.
Our life was good, more than good.
We were comfortable financially, surrounded by great family and friends, whilst also having the freedom to do whatever we want, whenever we want.
You could easily find me eating a sneaky croissant in Paris or laying on a Hawaiian beach soaking in the sun. As when the mood struck, I had been known to join my husband on spontaneous trips around the world.
However, since his fiftieth birthday earlier in the year, Lucus had become more aloof, absorbed in his work.
I think he was going through a mid-life crisis.
He had pivoted his focus towards his finances and big investment opportunities.
Dabbling in various projects stating he was preparing for retirement.
I guess there was no harm in looking into our future, since we both had a long one ahead of us.
With a fresh cup of coffee I walked into my beautiful home office, opening the curtains to the stretching city beneath our penthouse apartment, the towering spires of high-rise buildings piercing the moving clouds above.
As I waited for my computer to wake, I opened the unread text from my husband, sent hours before.
“Taking off now, Sunflower. Will call when I land. Love you.”
With that message and the caffeine rebooting my brain, I was starting off the day with a perfect morning.
Getting comfortable at my desk I rebooted all my software systems. I was a Cybersecurity Specialist and a fucking good one at that.
Fully booked and busy since my college days, where I had unintentionally made a name for myself—the notorious hacker known as, Weeds.
It was the antithesis of my legal name coined by my best friend, Stella.
Want to settle a petty grievance? Search for leverage on an enemy. Want the contact information for the wife of the lecturer you’ve been fucking? I got you.
I was that girl, the unethical pupil with questionable morals, but the one everyone desperately wanted to know.
It was a side hustle and money grab. Life was hard for a poor struggling student, so I had to take advantage of my skillset.
Looking back on those days, I was lucky to get away unscathed as I was a lot more reckless and spontaneous then. Sure, that was still my nature, but over time I had mellowed somewhat—a loving committed relationship and some regular good dick would do that to you, I guess.
My husband had no idea of my morally grey background, not that he would understand anyway. His knowledge on technology was amateur at best, which was why he left all the online stuff to me.
A new email pinged at the top of my computer screen, the subject line in all capitols.
“I’M SORRY.” A weird tagline for a message sent to my professional company address.
The two words immediately caused a thick sense of foreboding to take over, warning me to take heed.
What is this reaction? Don’t click on it.
I clicked.
“Dear, Daisy Miller… My name is Gabriella… We haven’t met... I know your husband... I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this… You deserve to know…”
My vision blurred as each sentence grew more and more difficult to process. My senses had completely deserted as everything shut offline. My brain unable to take the onslaught of pain, trying to protect myself from further hurt… but the damage was done.
I slumped deep into my office chair, my eyes lapsing shut as I counted my breaths, hoping to cease this debilitating panic that had me overtaken.
One. She had the wrong person. Two. There had to be a mistake. Three. It must be a prank.
Yeah, that was it. There was a plausible explanation, there had to be.
With renewed gusto, I straightened my spine, pulled my metaphorical big girl panties up and forced myself to read the rest of the email.
There were multiple documents attached from her own private investigator. Incriminating photos, numerus transactions, private messages and email threads between our disgusting husband’s.
All hope vanished, my entire being internally screaming—fucking tearing apart, as I was fully engulfed in dread.
Gabriella had found the right person. She hadn’t made a mistake. It wasn’t a prank.
As much as I wanted to hate her for dropping these revelations on me, she was also a victim.
Our husbands were vile. Men who’d become fast friends over their disrespectful, fucked up views of women and in turn, their wives. They had made a whole playbook on how to cheat, how to deceive, how to influence other ‘high value’ men to take what they want, what they deserved.
Pure festering rage thickened in my veins, until every single heartbeat was laced with betrayal and vengeance.
I should have taken note, paid more attention, but my blind trust in the man I loved overshadowed everything else. Self-doubt and loathing soon sparked, making me reevaluate everything.
I had to find out the extent of Lucus’ disloyalty as I had a feeling it tunnelled further still. How did he hide his true self from me, for so long?
I may have been a naive fool, but I was promptly handed the sword that slashed through the illusion of my picturesque marriage, distorting the image beyond repair. There was no going back.
Stretching my shaking fingers, resolve soon hardened my emotions, making the path ahead clear and straightforward.
It was time to come out of retirement and tap back into my alter ego. I was willing to go dark, prepared to travel to the borders of hell to personally throw my husband in their fiery depths.
Shoving down the overbearing agony, I picked up my phone and dialled the number on screen.
“Hello, Gabriella speaking.”
“It’s me, Daisy… I’m in.”
Red permeated my vision as scattered thoughts barraged my brain—all of revenge, all of retribution.
I would show Lucus Miller what a high value woman was capable of—my heel pressed on his fucking throat, until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t survive unless I deemed his useless life worth saving.
Newsflash. I didn’t.