Chapter 2

7 PM, at a restaurant on Eastside.

The private room was softly lit with warm yellow lighting, a white tablecloth covering the wooden table. When Helen walked in, Victoria was already seated inside.

Victoria wore a black suit dress, her hair pulled back in a neat bun, a tiny pearl stud in her ear. A pot of sake sat in front of her; she'd already poured herself a glass, but hadn't taken a sip.

Victoria looked Helen up and down as she walked in.

"You look good," Victoria said. "Not like someone about to get divorced."

"You see a lot of people getting divorced?" Helen asked.

"Every day," Victoria replied, pouring Helen a glass of sake and sliding it over. "I've seen them all; crying, screaming, even waving knives around. But you? You're the only one who treats a dinner invitation for divorce like it's a performance review."

Helen sat down and took a sip from her glass. The sake burned a sharp path down her throat. "James is cheating on me."

Her tone was flat, like she was reading out a case summary.

Victoria's chopsticks paused, then she set them down on the rest. "Got proof?"

Helen handed her the phone.

Victoria took it, and the screen lit up. Photos, chat logs, bank statements; Helen had organized everything by timeline, clear as day, with detailed notes.

Victoria went through them one by one.

When she got to that bed pic, her lips pressed into a thin line. The bank records made her brows knit together. And when she saw Amber's taunting text, she slammed the phone down on the table. "That little bitch."

"Get to the point," Helen said, popping a piece of salmon into her mouth.

Victoria took a deep breath, forcing her emotions down. She looked up at Helen, her eyes turning all business. "How do you want this divorce to go?"

"No mess, no drama. I want exactly what's mine. Not a penny more, not a penny less."

"Then I need airtight proof of the affair," Victoria said, ticking off her fingers. "You've got the photo, but they could claim it's photoshopped. The chat logs need to be notarized, and the bank transfers are circumstantial.

"What I really need is direct evidence, like hotel booking records, surveillance of them coming and going together, or footage of them being intimate."

"I can check the hotel stays."

Victoria glanced up at her.

Helen's hand stayed steady on her glass. "All above board. His credit card statements show hotel charges. I need the hotel name and date. Add in his car's GPS logs, and I can map out the whole timeline."

"You're really using all those years of detective work."

"Not even close," Helen replied, setting her glass down. "If I really used everything I've got, he wouldn't even have time to react."

Victoria fell silent for a few seconds. She'd known Helen for twelve years, all the way back to college. Helen was the most unflappable person she'd ever met. Back then, when some guy started stalking Victoria, Helen didn't report him or cause a fuss.

Instead, she spent three days quietly digging up every detail about him. Then left a letter on his dorm desk, listing his home address, parents' workplaces, high school homeroom teacher's number, and a full log of every time and route he'd followed Victoria.

After that, the guy went out of his way to avoid Helen whenever she was around.

Victoria asked, "When did you find out?"

"2:17 this afternoon."

"So a few hours ago?"

"That's all I needed."

Victoria took a big gulp of her drink. "Alright, I'm gonna ask you a few things. Give it to me straight."

"Ask away."

"What did you have before you got married?"

"I had a house, paid off, in my name. 430,000 dollars in savings. He had a car, bought on a loan, and I paid off the rest after we got married. Nothing else big."

"And after you tied the knot?"

"Joint account has 140,000 dollars. My personal account's got a little over 1 million from my consulting gigs. He has no clue about the exact number. He's got an apartment we bought after marriage.

"I put down 200,000 dollars for the down payment, and the mortgage comes out of our joint account. He also bought a new car last year, paid in full with money from the joint account."

Victoria was typing all this into her phone's notes as Helen talked. When she finished, she looked up at Helen.

"Legally, the cheater doesn't have the upper hand when splits assets. But if you can prove he screwed up, like moving your shared money to someone else, I can push for him to get less, maybe even claw back that 100,000 dollars."

"Claw it back."

"No problem," Victoria said, closing her notes. "But that's not all, is it? You don't ask me out to talk about divorce."

Helen looked at her. "I want to dig into Amber. Not the basic info everyone sees. I want everything she's hiding. I want the real story."

"Why bother with her? You're divorcing James. No need to get tangled up with some 24-year-old girl."

Helen shook her head. "The way she worded that message. Not like some clueless kid. 'Loves you best in your uniform.' She knew about my old job. She picked this exact moment to provoke me. That wasn't some impulsive move. She was testing me."

Victoria's glass froze halfway to her lips. "What are you getting at?"

"This isn't about cheating. She's been working this angle for eleven months, and she's taken at least 125,000 dollars from James.

"Her social media shows she's living way above her means. Her TikTok says she's a brand manager at some company, but her salary tops out at 3,000 dollars a month, max."

Helen paused for a moment. "Victoria, how many people like Amber have you seen in divorce cases?"

Victoria slowly set her glass down. "You think she's a pro?"

"I don't have proof yet. But my gut says James isn't her first target."

Silence filled the private room. The clinking of glasses and laughter from the next table made the quiet here feel even more intense.

Victoria finally nodded. "Alright, I trust your skills at digging up info on people, but some things you can't handle solo. I've got an investigative agency I work with. Let me know if you need backup."

"I'll do it myself for now."

"Fine," Victoria said, grabbing a piece of sushi with her chopsticks and popping it in her mouth. "But there's one thing."

"Say it."

"As soon as you find anything, send it to me. I need to check what's admissible and what isn't. Don't do anything illegal. If it comes out in court, it'll backfire."

Helen nodded.

They finished off the rest of the food and drank the sake dry.

When they stepped outside, Victoria ordered a driver. While they waited, she leaned against the wall and gave Helen a look. "Helen."

"Yeah."

"Are you really not even a little bit upset?"

The streetlights washed over Helen's face. She stood tall, her coat flapping in the wind. "I am," her voice was soft.

Then she turned and headed for the subway entrance.

Victoria stayed there, watching until Helen vanished below the steps.

The driver arrived.

Once Victoria got in the car, she leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes for a moment.

Then she pulled out her phone and sent a message to her assistant: [Have all the business registration records under James's name ready for tomorrow. The more detailed, the better.]

After sending it, she paused, then added: [I'm handling this case myself. No charge.]

When Helen got home, the house was empty.

The living room lights were off, and moonlight spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a cold white glow across the floor.

She didn't turn on the lights.

She slipped into her slippers, walked to the bedroom, and sat down on the edge of the bed in the darkness.

She'd picked out this bed herself. It was a queen size, with a latex mattress, and she'd spent hours online comparing every detail of the bedding set.

On the nightstand sat a wedding photo: her in a white dress, James in a suit, both of them grinning from ear to ear.

Helen reached out and turned the photo frame around.

Now the back was facing up.

Then she turned on the bedside lamp and pulled her laptop out of her bag.

Over the next three hours, she did the following.

First, she sorted James's credit card transactions from the past year by category: dining, hotels, shopping, transportation.

Second, she matched up the hotel charges with the dates he texted her saying he was "working late."

The result: they lined up exactly. Every time he claimed to be working late, there was a hotel charge.

Eleven months, twenty-three times.

Third, she compared Amber's social media posts with James's credit card records. Every designer bag and fancy meal Amber flaunted was paid for with James's card.

Fourth, she dug into Amber's education and work history.

Bachelor's degree in marketing from a second-rate college. After graduation, she bounced between three companies, never staying more than a year. Now she was at Summit Media, a subsidiary of Summit Realty Group which was James's company.

Helen's fingers froze on the keyboard.

Summit Media.

A branch under James's company.

Amber worked under James.

She took a deep breath.

She kept digging.

Amber joined Summit Media exactly eleven months ago.

So the timing matched exactly when she started appearing in James's life.

Was it the job first, or the relationship?

Helen typed in the document: [To be checked: Amber's referral/interview records at Summit Media.]

She closed her laptop.

It was 1:23 AM.

James hadn't come home yet.

Helen lay down and pulled the blanket over herself. It had been washed and carried the scent of sunshine from the afternoon.

She stared up at the ceiling.

They'd been married for five years.

She'd quit her job in the criminal investigation unit for this man. That job was exhausting; late nights, constant travel, not really suited for family life. James had said, "You work too hard. Why not settle down with me?"

She thought he was right.

So she locked away all her skills, like sealing away a blade.

Now, it was time to unsheath that blade again.