Chapter 4

Once I finished talking, I didn't let Matthew get another word in.

I ended the call right then.

The whole office was so quiet that we could hear a pin drop.

Everyone was watching me, their faces a mix of emotions.

I set my phone back on the desk and glanced over at Giana, who was slumped on the floor.

Her crying had stopped, leaving only desperate, choked sobs, like someone whose hope had been strangled.

I turned to Bonnie, our department manager, who looked awkward and at a loss for what to do.

I nodded at her, my tone all business again.

"Bonnie, sorry for handling my family stuff so poorly and holding up everyone's work," I said.

"It's fine," Bonnie replied, her voice a little stiff.

Without looking at anyone else, I walked straight back to Matthew's computer.

Matthew was probably already on his way.

Before he got here, I had more important things to do.

I didn't turn off the projector.

That massive chat log was like a guillotine hanging over Giana's head.

I sat down and grabbed the mouse.

My hand was steady, my mind sharp as a blade.

First step: I had to save the evidence.

I took screenshots and screen recordings of the three-month chat history between Matthew and Giana, from start to finish.

For those explicit voice notes, I put on my headphones, listened to them one by one, and recorded them with my phone.

Matthew said, "Babe, I'm going on a business trip tomorrow. Finally, I won't have to see that old hag.

"Babe, you smell amazing today. I'll come over tonight."

Each line cut me like a knife, but I couldn't feel any pain.

My heart was numb. All that remained was a cold, lucid fury.

I sorted all the screenshots, screen recordings, and audio files into folders and zipped them up.

Then I sent them to my personal email, uploaded them to my cloud storage, and even forwarded them to my childhood friend who's a law grad.

After I finished all that, I finally logged out of Matthew's WhatsApp.

The projection on the wall went dark.

The heavy atmosphere in the office seemed to loosen up a little.

People started pretending to work, but they kept stealing glances my way when they thought I wasn't looking.

Giana was still sitting on the floor, looking lost.

I unplugged the adapter, walked over to her, and dropped it at her feet.

"Matthew should be here in about twenty minutes," I said.

I stood over her, looking down. "I suggest you pack up your stuff and get out of here before he arrives.

"Otherwise, when he gets here, I can't guarantee whether you two will be bawling your eyes out or putting on a live sex show in front of everyone."

Giana looked up at me in terror, like she'd seen the devil.

I ignored her and turned back to my seat.

Next step: I had to take stock of our assets.

I opened the mobile banking app and entered the password for the joint account that Matthew and I shared.

We'd agreed to put aside a portion of our salaries each month into this account to pay the mortgage and build up our family savings.

There should have been over 250 thousand in there.

I tapped on the balance.

The number on the screen made my blood run cold.

The balance showed 13 dollars.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

I tapped on the transaction history.

The latest transaction was at 9:03 this morning.

170 thousand dollars had been transferred out.

The recipient was some random name I'd never seen before.

But I recognized the last name.

It was Goodwin.

I jumped onto the company intranet and searched for that name.

I found it.

There it was, a photo of Giana's father staring back at me in the personnel file.

I held my phone up in front of Giana, who was still slumped on the floor, showing her the screenshot of the successful transfer.

"170 thousand dollars," I said, my voice cold as ice.

"Transferred out at nine this morning. Was that to give your dad a funeral?"

Giana's eyes went wide, all the color draining from her face.

She stared at me, her lips trembling, unable to get a word out.

So it wasn't just my feelings that they were playing me with. They were after my money, too.

They didn't want me gone.

They wanted me out with nothing, stripped of everything.

Right then, the office glass door was shoved open from outside.

The glass door slammed open, startling everyone.

Matthew burst in, his forehead slick with sweat, breath coming in gasps.

His gaze found me instantly.