Chapter 2

I waited until Tyler left for his weekly golf game with clients before making my move. The small recording devices I'd purchased online were no bigger than my thumbnail—perfectly inconspicuous, nearly undetectable. My hands trembled slightly as I placed the first one beneath his desk, positioning it where it would capture every conversation that happened in his office.

"We're adults, Sam. We can handle this maturely," Tyler's words echoed in my mind as I installed the second device in our home study. The memory of his casual dismissal of our marriage vows made my stomach clench.

I'd been married to the man for eight years. Eight years of building Pinnacle Media from nothing into one of the most respected media companies in the industry. Eight years of supporting him, mentoring others like Lea, and playing the perfect wife.

And all along, he'd been planning this.

"We need to be strategic about this," I whispered to myself, testing the audio on my phone to ensure the devices were working properly. "Every word counts now."

Three days later, I had my first recording. Tyler and Lea, alone in his office after hours.

"She actually agreed to an open marriage," Tyler's voice came through clearly, laced with amusement. "Can you believe it?"

Lea's laugh was soft, intimate. "She's always been so proper, so concerned with appearances. Did you see her face when she walked in on us?"

"I thought she might throw something," Tyler replied. "But she's always been the composed one. It's what makes her such a valuable business partner."

"And wife?" Lea asked, her tone shifting to something more calculating.

"That too," Tyler said. "For now. But you're right—we need to start thinking about the transition. She can't be at every function anymore. You should start attending some of the social events with me."

My fingers tightened around my phone as their conversation continued, mocking my "naivety" and discussing how Lea would gradually take over more of my responsibilities. Not just in bed, but in business. In our life.

I saved the file and backed it up to a secure cloud account Tyler knew nothing about.

---

"Mrs. Reynolds," Marcus Chen greeted me with a professional smile as I entered his downtown office. "Thank you for coming in."

"Ms. Coleman," I corrected him gently. "I'd like to keep this meeting strictly professional."

His eyes flickered with understanding. "Of course. Please, have a seat."

I settled into the leather chair across from his desk, placing my portfolio on my lap. "I'm interested in reviewing our financial portfolio," I said, maintaining the cover story I'd prepared.

"Smart move," Marcus nodded. "It's always good to understand your assets before making any major life decisions."

I slid a USB drive across his desk. "This contains some... relevant information you should review."

Marcus plugged it into his laptop, his expression remaining neutral as Tyler and Lea's voices filled the room. When the recording ended, he looked up at me with newfound respect.

"This is quite damning," he said carefully. "But we'll need more to build a comprehensive case."

"I'm working on that," I replied. "In the meantime, I need to know my options for asset protection."

For the next hour, Marcus outlined strategies for quietly transferring funds to separate accounts and adjusting stock holdings without triggering Tyler's suspicion. I took careful notes, my mind working through each step of what would become my escape plan.

"One more thing," Marcus added as our meeting concluded. "Don't confront him yet. The element of surprise will work in your favor."

I nodded, tucking my portfolio under my arm. "I'm not ready for confrontation. Not yet."

---

"Quentin Gray," I murmured, staring at the LinkedIn profile that had appeared in my search results. "I can't believe he's still in media."

I'd been researching potential contacts for what I'd told Tyler was a new marketing campaign. Finding Quentin's profile felt like a sign.

We'd met in Vienna ten years ago, before Pinnacle Media, before Tyler. Before I'd become half of a power couple instead of my own person.

I hesitated only briefly before sending him a connection request, along with a brief message: "Quentin, it's Samantha Coleman (formerly Samantha Hayes). I'd love to catch up if you're ever in town."

Two days later, we sat across from each other at a small café near the waterfront.

"Your message was quite a surprise," Quentin said, his eyes warm with recognition. "It's been what, ten years?"

"Eleven," I corrected him with a smile that felt more genuine than any I'd worn in months. "Do you remember that little pastry shop near the opera house?"

"The one with the chocolate croissants that melted in your mouth?" His laugh was rich, authentic. "How could I forget?"

As we talked about Vienna, about the years that had passed, about his work as a freelance journalist covering international media, I felt something loosen in my chest. For the first time since finding Tyler with Lea, I laughed—really laughed—and realized how much I'd been missing.

"So," Quentin said as our conversation paused, "are you happy, Samantha? Truly?"

The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I couldn't answer. Because the truth was, I hadn't been happy for longer than I cared to admit.