Chapter 3

We waited by the entrance for half an hour until finally a resident came out. The second the door started closing, we slipped inside before it could lock.

Emma lived on the 12th floor. We took the elevator up and rang her doorbell. The door opened almost immediately.

Emma stood there in a silk robe with her hair all messy. She looked pretty surprised to see us. "Can I help you?"

"Hi there, we're from Pacific Insurance and we'd love to tell you about our new products." Jenny handed her a flyer like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Emma took the flyer and hesitated. "This isn't really a good time. Could you come back another day?"

"We only need 10 minutes, won't take up much of your time at all," I pressed.

"I really can't right now. My boyfriend's still sleeping."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Boyfriend sleeping? Was it Michael?

"That's okay, we'll keep our voices down," I said, still pushing.

That was when a man's voice called out from inside the apartment. "Emma, who is it?"

I knew that voice too well. It was Michael.

My heart hammered in my chest but I forced myself to stay calm.

"Just some insurance people. I'm getting rid of them," Emma called back into the apartment.

"Hurry up then, I want to sleep a little longer." Michael's voice drifted out, still thick with sleep.

Jenny and I locked eyes. There it was—proof.

"Okay, we'll come back another time then," I said loudly enough for anyone inside to hear.

"Thanks for understanding." Emma looked relieved and started closing the door.

Right before it shut, I deliberately dropped my pen. "Oh sorry, I dropped my pen."

I bent down to pick it up and snuck a quick look inside. Two coffee mugs sat on the living room table and men's clothing was scattered across the sofa—a white dress shirt and black slacks. The exact outfit Michael had worn yesterday.

"Thanks, bye." I grabbed the pen and left with Jenny.

In the elevator, Jenny asked, "So now you believe it?"

I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions I couldn't untangle. I'd suspected it all along, but seeing the proof with my own eyes still hit me like a truck.

"What are you going to do now?" Jenny asked.

"I need more evidence."

"What more do you need? Isn't this enough?"

"I want to make sure he can't talk his way out of it."

That afternoon, we went back to my place. Michael wasn't home yet, so I started searching for more evidence.

First, his computer. I knew the password. It was our wedding anniversary. The irony wasn't lost on me that he'd use that date for his password.

The computer didn't have anything unusual, mostly just work files.

But when I checked his browser history, I found something. The Grandview Hotel booking website, and the date was the day after our wedding. He'd started planning his affair right after our wedding night.

I checked his credit card statements next.

Over the past month, there were tons of suspicious charges—expensive restaurants, jewelry stores, hotels. The amounts weren't small either.

We'd just gotten married and money was tight, but he'd been spending it all on another woman.

I took photos of all the statements and saved them.

"Sophia, what are you going to do?" Jenny asked from beside me.

"I'm getting a divorce."

"Good. I support you."

"But I'm not going to make it easy for him." I stared at the evidence on my phone, my eyes cold. If he could betray me like this, then he couldn't blame me for what came next.

Michael came home at seven that evening. "Babe, that meeting went on forever. I'm exhausted." He collapsed on the sofa, looking wiped out.

"What was the meeting about?"

"Same project. The client had a ton of new requirements, so we have to redesign the whole proposal."

More lies. I was getting used to them by now.

"Michael, I want to ask you something," I said softly.

"What's up?"

"Have you been under a lot of stress lately?"

"I guess? Why do you ask?"

"Because I've noticed you've been coming home late a lot and working overtime constantly."

"That's just how real estate is. You know that."

"I know, but I'm worried about your health." I walked over and sat down next to him. "What if you found a different job? My salary isn't great, but if we're careful with money, we could make it work."

Michael froze for a second, then shook his head. "No thanks, I like my job. Plus we just got married. We need the money."

"Need money for what?"

"For a house, a car, and saving up for kids someday." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like he was actually planning our future together. But I couldn't help thinking that his version of "our future" probably included Emma.

"Michael, do you love me?" The question came out before I could stop it.

"Of course I do. Why would you even ask that?"

"Then can you promise me you'll never cheat on me?"

Michael stared at me and something like panic flashed in his eyes. "What's going on with you today? Why are you saying all this weird stuff?"

"I just want to make sure about us."

"Sophia, you're my wife. How could I ever cheat on you?" He grabbed my hand and his expression looked so sincere. But I didn't believe a single word coming out of his mouth anymore.

"That's good to hear," I smiled and stood up. "I'm going to make dinner."

In the kitchen, I chopped vegetables and started planning my next move. If he could put on an act, so could I. We'd see who was the better actor.

Over the next few days, I went back to acting normal on the surface while secretly collecting more evidence.

Michael seemed relieved, like he thought I hadn't figured anything out. He kept up his double life, playing the devoted husband at home during the day, then sneaking off to see Emma at night.

I started tracking their meetups and writing down every date, time, and location. On Wednesday night, they went to the Grandview Hotel again. This time, I didn't follow them inside. I just waited outside.

Two hours later, they came out. Emma had her arm looped through Michael's and wore a satisfied smile. Her hair was messy and her cheeks were still flushed.

I didn't need to guess what they'd done in that room. I'd taken photos of them together from my car.

In the pictures, Michael was kissing Emma's forehead and both of them looked so tender. I hadn't seen that kind of tenderness on his face in a long time. He'd been saving all his softness for another woman.

On Friday, I decided to take more direct action. I took the afternoon off and went to Michael's office. This time I wasn't hiding. I walked straight into the building.