Page 1 of Dark Seduction

Chapter 1

Dalia

"Caught my husband screwing his secretary. In our bed."

The words spill out like word vomit.

The tow truck driver, a grizzled man whose face maps out a life of hardship, glances over, his expression a mix of shock and morbid curiosity.

For a moment, I worry the poor old man might keel over right there.

"Damn," he mutters, his voice heavy with empathy. "That's... quite a story. You wanna talk about it?"

I chuckle, the sound more of a scoff than anything joyful. "Trust me, you're better off if I don't."

He flashes a half-smile, the kind that’s seen too much to be surprised anymore. "I've got time, Miss. Try me."

I sigh, surrendering to the odd comfort of confessing to a stranger. "Where do I start? Well, for starters, I’m broke because my husband cleared our bank accounts. So that’s fun. Turns outour marriage wasn’t even legal. Half a decade, living a lie. And then, catching him in the act with his secretary in our own bed? The rotten cherry on top."

The driver remains silent, a respectful audience to my calamity.

“And if that wasn’t enough,” I continue, my voice as sharp as broken glass, “I lost my job today. Fired by my boss, who happens to be my ex’s best friend. Betrayal seems to be a common theme in my life right now.”

He lets out a low chuckle, not mocking, but understanding.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, my irritation evident.

“Sounds like when it rains, it pours. Been there myself.”

I snort, a humorless sound. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“At least you’re free of him now. Things could’ve been worse—you could still be stuck with that man, living with all that nonsense. Now you’ve got your freedom.”

“Freedom with about fifty dollars to my name,” I reply flatly, my voice hollow from exhaustion.

He winces slightly, but there’s no pity in his eyes.

Just understanding.

He doesn’t press, sensing I’ve had enough of the pep talk. Silence falls between us for the rest of the ride, comfortable in its own way, like he knows there’s not always a need to fill the quiet with words.

We pull into the mechanic’s lot, and I hand him the last of my cash. “Thanks for the ride… and for listening.”

“No trouble at all, Miss,” he says, his voice as steady as ever as he hops out to unhook my pitiful excuse of a car. Just as he’s about to leave, he pauses and turns back toward me, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“Life’s funny, you know,” he begins, his voice soft but firm. “Sometimes it helps to believe everything happens for a reason. Never know what’s around the corner. You’ll bounce back from this. You’ve got strength—I can tell.”

I manage a faint smile, the warmth of his words cutting through my exhaustion. “I appreciate that.Really.”

With a small nod and a final smile, we say our goodbyes.

As he drives off, his words stay with me, lingering like an unexpected comfort on this otherwise shit show of a day.

I step into the garage, only to be greeted by a mechanic who looks like he’s allergic to soap.

His greasy hair, stained clothes, and overall demeanor screamthis day isn’t getting any better.

“Hello. I’m having car trouble,” I say, trying not to sound as defeated as I feel.

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