Chapter 2

The next morning, Julian came home carrying a bouquet of red roses.

The familiar scent of cedar cologne followed him through the door. That morning, it made my stomach turn.

“Elena, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “Year-end deadlines have been brutal. I’ll do my best to be home for New Year’s Eve.”

Beneath his cologne lingered a trace of unfamiliar perfume. A week ago, I would have believed every word. Now I only stood there and let him hold me.

“It’s all right. Work comes first.”

He relaxed. “Thank you for understanding.”

I had accepted years of absences because I believed we were building a future together. Now I wondered if he had simply needed me to stay quiet.

While Julian showered, I noticed his briefcase lying open beside the bed. Inside a separate compartment was a phone I had never seen before.

His birthday unlocked the screen.

I opened his conversation with Bianca. Her message had arrived at noon on Christmas Day.

“The Christmas package still hasn’t arrived. Did you send it to the right address?”

Julian had replied minutes later. “I must have sent it to the wrong address. I’ll order another one. I’ll come over early tonight and make it up to you.”

At almost the same time, he had told me work would keep him away all night.

While I waited to tell him I was pregnant, he had promised another woman he would arrive early.

The perfume told me where he had spent the night. He did not know the lingerie was still beneath our tree.

Their conversation contained hotel confirmations, jewelry receipts, and regular transfers. One payment listed a seaside villa under Bianca’s name.

The delivery had been a mistake. The affair wasn’t.

I opened the banking app and searched through the transfer history.

Over the past year, Julian had moved exactly $300,000 from our joint savings and investment accounts into a private account I had never known existed.

He had divided the money into smaller transfers and labeled them as “financial restructuring” to make them look routine.

They were not investments. They had paid for Bianca’s villa, jewelry, hotel stays, dinners, and the life he was building away from me.

I had trusted Julian with our finances because I believed he was protecting everything we had built together.

While he spent hundreds of thousands on another woman, I compared grocery prices, wore the same winter coat for four years, and returned a $300 cashmere coat because it felt irresponsible.

Julian had only demanded restraint when the money was being spent on me.

The shower stopped. I photographed the messages, transfers, and villa payment before returning the phone to his briefcase.

Seconds later, Julian entered the bedroom wearing a towel. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired.”

He smiled. “Get some rest. I’ll give you a real surprise on New Year’s Eve.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

After he left, I sent the evidence to Catherine and followed her advice not to confront him.

Before closing my laptop, I noticed an unread email from the consulting firm I had left after Julian convinced me to put our family first.

My former supervisor had contacted me every few months, asking whether I was ready to return.

Three days earlier, she had sent a formal offer for an open senior strategy position. She needed my answer by Friday.

In the past, I had always found a reason to say no. This time, I clicked ACCEPT.