His Perfect Trap, My Perfect Revenge

Chapter 3

Third Person POV

"Hiss—" Chelsea sucked in a sharp breath as glass shards bit into her skin.

"Who's Sabrina?" The murmur rippled through the crowd as they watched Magnus rush off. Someone finally voiced what everyone was wondering.

"You don't know? Sabrina Knowles is the woman Mr. Colon actually loves."

"Wait—then what about his wife?"

"Oh, please. It's common knowledge in our circles. Chelsea swooped in when the Colons were at their lowest, and Sabrina got pushed out of the picture. But now that the family's back on top and Sabrina's returned… well, let's see how Mrs. Colon handles that."

"Damn. So she's the homewrecker?"

"I always thought she had this elegant vibe. Never pegged her as the type to steal a man. Tsk."

"Shh—keep your voice down."

The whispers coiled around Chelsea like smoke. She watched Magnus disappear into the distance, his figure shrinking until it was gone—and then she laughed, the sound bitter as burnt coffee.

So this was love? Three years of marriage, and it was all just a sick joke. And the worst part? Everyone knew. Everyone except her.

She pushed herself up from the floor, glass still embedded in her skin. Not a single person offered a hand. Of course not. These were the Colons' people, not hers.

The party ended abruptly after her injury.

By the time Chelsea drove herself to the hospital, the ER was nearly empty, the fluorescent lights humming in the quiet.

And then—of course—she saw them.

Magnus and Sabrina.

She had just finished getting her hand bandaged when they walked in—Magnus bruised and battered, Sabrina clinging to his arm like he was her lifeline.

"Chelsea?" Magnus stiffened when he spotted her stepping out of the treatment room. Instinctively, he shifted in front of Sabrina, shielding her.

That small, unconscious gesture shattered something inside Chelsea. She forced a tight smile and lifted her heavily bandaged hand. "Thanks to your dear sister."

Magnus frowned at the sight of the gauze wrapped thick around her fingers, but before he could speak, Sabrina cut in. "Chelsea, that's not fair. Michaela's just a kid. As her sister-in-law, shouldn't you be more understanding?"

Chelsea nearly laughed.

A kid? Michaela was only a year younger than her. If she was still a child, then why was Chelsea expected to act like an adult?

"And what does that have to do with you?" she asked coldly, her gaze flicking to Sabrina's hand, still tucked possessively in Magnus's grip.

But her heart didn't even ache anymore. She was just… done.

She turned to leave, but as she brushed past them, Magnus suddenly grabbed her wrist.

"Chelsea," he snapped. "Apologize to Sabrina. Now."

His voice was sharp, his expression dark. The anger rolling off him was unmistakable.

And yet, when Chelsea met his icy stare, she felt nothing.

Funny how a heart could break so completely that love just… evaporated.

"Why should I?" she asked flatly.

"Because she's right," he bit out. "Michaela is just a kid. Why are you being so petty? And the way you spoke to Sabrina—" He cut himself off, jaw tightening. "She was harassed at the airport. She's shaken up, and you're making it worse. Apologize."

His grip tightened, his fury barely contained.

So that was it. Sabrina had been harassed. That's why he'd bolted. That's why he'd fought. That's why he was hurt.

Chelsea glanced at Sabrina, whose eyes were now glistening with perfectly timed tears.

What a performance.

A cold smile curled at Chelsea's lips.

When Sabrina was in trouble, Magnus turned into a knight in shining armor. But when his own wife was drugged at her birthning party, he played along without a second thought.

The difference between love and indifference had never been clearer.

She clenched her fist—then yanked her arm free with all her strength.

"You should focus on your injuries," she said, her voice hollow.

And without another word, she walked out.