Chapter 2 · 100 Copies of His Affair

The taxi raced along the elevated highway at night.

The city lights outside blurred into streaks.

I opened my laptop and didn't glance at my phone.

I knew it was probably blowing up right now.

Missed calls and messages were piling up, from Adam, Emily, the bosses, and all the gossipy coworkers.

None of it mattered.

The moment I hit "send" to the print shop, the Sarah Evans everyone thought they knew, the good wife, the good coworker, was dead and buried.

Now, sitting in this car, I was a woman hell-bent on revenge or maybe an avenger ready to make them pay.

On my laptop screen was an encrypted folder.

The password was Adam's birthday, combined with Emily's hire date.

I knew it all along.

When did it all start? About six months ago.

Adam started working overtime all the time, always saying it was because of a tight deadline.

He started locking his phone, claiming it was to protect company secrets.

Emily, a fresh-out-of-college intern, was personally hired by him and then fast-tracked for promotion.

The whole department thought something was off.

I wasn't the least bit surprised.

Because I'd smelled perfume in Adam's car. A scent that definitely wasn't mine.

Because when I did his laundry, I found long hairs that definitely didn't belong to him.

Mostly because I saw his WhatsApp chat history on our spare tablet. He left it open.

The messages were full of words like [baby], [honey], and [wait until I dump that old hag and we can get married].

I didn't say a word, not then.

Instead, I silently backed up every message, transfer receipt, and hotel record.

I stored them in three separate cloud drives, locked behind triple layers of passwords.

To be safe, I planted a tiny recorder in the lamp by our bed.

I gave him half a year and waited for him to either turn back or confess.

But he did nothing.

He kept enjoying the stable home I built for him, while chasing the thrill of a younger woman on the side.

He thought I was clueless.

He thought I was still that girl who married him right after college, with eyes only for him.

He was dead wrong.

After seven years of marriage, I wasn't that girl anymore.

Everything I needed was right there in that folder: Plan A, B, C.

Plan A: If he came clean and wanted a peaceful divorce, I'd bury the evidence forever, give him half the money, and let him walk away.

Plan B: If I caught him but he was willing to admit his mistake and come back, I'd give him one last shot. But he'd have to rewrite the property agreement and leave with nothing.

Plan C: If he not only refused to change but tried to humiliate me with someone else, then I'd go all out.

The photo Emily sent me today was the trigger for Plan C.

The taxi pulled up at the airport's departure level.

I paid the fare, grabbed my pre-packed suitcase, and walked inside.

My destination wasn't Paradise Isle.

Why bother catching them in Paradise Isle? That's too basic.

My ticket was for our hometown.

Adam's parents and Emily's parents both lived in that mid-sized city.

They were bound to run into each other all the time.

I was going to make sure their parents got the second "surprise" before Adam and Emily made it back from Paradise Isle.

I'd show him I was out to destroy everything he built: his career, his name. And I was going to make sure he lost every ounce of respect he had left as a son.

In the waiting lounge, I pulled out my backup phone, powered it on, and logged into a throwaway WhatsApp account.

There was only one contact on this account.

It was Chloe Hayes, the receptionist at our company. She was fresh out of college, and I'd helped her out a few times, so we got along pretty well.

I sent her a message. [Chloe, what's going on up on the 17th floor?]

She replied almost instantly. First, she sent a shocked emoji. Then came a long voice message.

I put on my headphones.

Chloe's voice came through. "Sarah, where did you go? The whole office is going absolutely nuts.

"Someone snapped pics of all those photos you posted and blasted them in the main company group chat.

"Now every group chat is blowing up about it. The big boss is freaking out.

"Director Lewis from HR is very mad. She's got a team ripping the photos down one by one, but it's pointless. Everyone already saved them to their phones.

"Director Carter and Emily's phones are ringing nonstop, but nobody's picking up.

"Sarah, are you okay? Please don't do anything drastic."

As I listened to her anxious voice, a smirk tugged at my lips.

I wasn't going to do anything drastic.

My mind had never been sharper.

I typed back. [I'm fine, out for some fresh air. Do me a favor and send me a few more screenshots from the company group chat. Especially the ones with the nastiest comments. I live for that drama.]

Chapter 2

The taxi raced along the elevated highway at night.

The city lights outside blurred into streaks.

I opened my laptop and didn't glance at my phone.

I knew it was probably blowing up right now.

Missed calls and messages were piling up, from Adam, Emily, the bosses, and all the gossipy coworkers.

None of it mattered.

The moment I hit "send" to the print shop, the Sarah Evans everyone thought they knew, the good wife, the good coworker, was dead and buried.

Now, sitting in this car, I was a woman hell-bent on revenge or maybe an avenger ready to make them pay.

On my laptop screen was an encrypted folder.

The password was Adam's birthday, combined with Emily's hire date.

I knew it all along.

When did it all start? About six months ago.

Adam started working overtime all the time, always saying it was because of a tight deadline.

He started locking his phone, claiming it was to protect company secrets.

Emily, a fresh-out-of-college intern, was personally hired by him and then fast-tracked for promotion.

The whole department thought something was off.

I wasn't the least bit surprised.

Because I'd smelled perfume in Adam's car. A scent that definitely wasn't mine.

Because when I did his laundry, I found long hairs that definitely didn't belong to him.

Mostly because I saw his WhatsApp chat history on our spare tablet. He left it open.

The messages were full of words like [baby], [honey], and [wait until I dump that old hag and we can get married].

I didn't say a word, not then.

Instead, I silently backed up every message, transfer receipt, and hotel record.

I stored them in three separate cloud drives, locked behind triple layers of passwords.

To be safe, I planted a tiny recorder in the lamp by our bed.

I gave him half a year and waited for him to either turn back or confess.

But he did nothing.

He kept enjoying the stable home I built for him, while chasing the thrill of a younger woman on the side.

He thought I was clueless.

He thought I was still that girl who married him right after college, with eyes only for him.

He was dead wrong.

After seven years of marriage, I wasn't that girl anymore.

Everything I needed was right there in that folder: Plan A, B, C.

Plan A: If he came clean and wanted a peaceful divorce, I'd bury the evidence forever, give him half the money, and let him walk away.

Plan B: If I caught him but he was willing to admit his mistake and come back, I'd give him one last shot. But he'd have to rewrite the property agreement and leave with nothing.

Plan C: If he not only refused to change but tried to humiliate me with someone else, then I'd go all out.

The photo Emily sent me today was the trigger for Plan C.

The taxi pulled up at the airport's departure level.

I paid the fare, grabbed my pre-packed suitcase, and walked inside.

My destination wasn't Paradise Isle.

Why bother catching them in Paradise Isle? That's too basic.

My ticket was for our hometown.

Adam's parents and Emily's parents both lived in that mid-sized city.

They were bound to run into each other all the time.

I was going to make sure their parents got the second "surprise" before Adam and Emily made it back from Paradise Isle.

I'd show him I was out to destroy everything he built: his career, his name. And I was going to make sure he lost every ounce of respect he had left as a son.

In the waiting lounge, I pulled out my backup phone, powered it on, and logged into a throwaway WhatsApp account.

There was only one contact on this account.

It was Chloe Hayes, the receptionist at our company. She was fresh out of college, and I'd helped her out a few times, so we got along pretty well.

I sent her a message. [Chloe, what's going on up on the 17th floor?]

She replied almost instantly. First, she sent a shocked emoji. Then came a long voice message.

I put on my headphones.

Chloe's voice came through. "Sarah, where did you go? The whole office is going absolutely nuts.

"Someone snapped pics of all those photos you posted and blasted them in the main company group chat.

"Now every group chat is blowing up about it. The big boss is freaking out.

"Director Lewis from HR is very mad. She's got a team ripping the photos down one by one, but it's pointless. Everyone already saved them to their phones.

"Director Carter and Emily's phones are ringing nonstop, but nobody's picking up.

"Sarah, are you okay? Please don't do anything drastic."

As I listened to her anxious voice, a smirk tugged at my lips.

I wasn't going to do anything drastic.

My mind had never been sharper.

I typed back. [I'm fine, out for some fresh air. Do me a favor and send me a few more screenshots from the company group chat. Especially the ones with the nastiest comments. I live for that drama.]