Chapter 2
The next morning, the alarm rang at 7 a.m.
He was up before me, like he always was for the past six years. By the time I finished washing up and walked into the dining room, breakfast was already waiting: milk, sandwiches, and a plate of sliced fruit.
"The strawberries are especially sweet today," he said, sliding the glass toward me with a smile.
He was thirty-four, and when he smiled, there were fine lines at the corners of his eyes. But his eyes still had that clean, honest look.
So clean.
That word made my stomach churn.
"Busy today?" I asked, taking a bite of my sandwich, my tone as casual as ever.
"I've got a tech review meeting in the morning, then a client in the afternoon. Should be home early tonight," he said, glancing at his phone. "What about you?"
"I've got a case to prep for court, might have to work late," I replied.
"Don't work too hard," he said, gently touching my hair.
I didn't pull away. I smiled at him.
"I'm off," he said, grabbing his briefcase and kissing me on the forehead.
The door closed softly behind him.
I set my sandwich down and pulled out my phone.
I made a quick call.
The person who picked up was Alex Hart, a college friend of mine who now runs a private investigation firm. We're pretty close. We even had dinner together last month.
"Alex, I need you to look into someone for me," I said.
"Who?" he asked.
"My husband."
There was a two-second silence on the other end.
"You're serious?"
"I'm serious. I want everything: surveillance, photos, videos, any evidence you can get. Focus on a woman named Sophie Lane. She might be someone from his company."
"How long?"
"One week."
"And the fee?"
"Double it."
"Deal. I'll have the first report for you in three days."
After hanging up, I logged into our family's credit card billing system. There were two cards; his and mine. But I had access to both accounts. He'd set it up three years ago, saying, "You can spend whatever you want. I've got nothing to hide."
I started digging through the bills from three months ago.
The first red flag appeared two months ago: a charge of 2300 dollars at a place called Westside Table. I looked it up. It's a high-end private restaurant out west, famous for its couples' set menus, and you have to book three days in advance.
That day, he told me it was a "team dinner."
The second red flag: a month ago, three charges at the same hotel called Grand Crest Hotel. Each one was between 400 and 500 dollars. The gaps between them were four days and six days.
During that stretch, he was "working late" at the office once or twice every week.
The third red flag: last week, a 3000-dollar charge at a jewelry store. The brand was Azure Luxe. I know that brand, it's popular with young women for its trendy, affordable luxury jewelry.
I never got any jewelry from him.
I took screenshots of all the suspicious charges and saved them in an encrypted folder.
Next, I moved on to the second step. I loged into the cloud account for our car dashcams.
Both our cars have dashcams that upload footage to the cloud and keep it for ninety days. Two years ago, I was the one who suggested installing them. Back then, he even complimented me on my sense of security.
I pulled up the location history for his car over the past three months.
On Tuesday night, he said he was "working late." But his car was parked in the underground garage of the Grand Crest Hotel from 7 p.m. to 11 p.m.
On Thursday night, he said he was "having dinner with a client." But his car was parked in a high-end residential complex out west from 6:30 p.m. to 10 p.m.
On Saturday afternoon, he said he was "going to the office to handle some work." But his car first went to a mall, parked there for forty minutes. He was probably shopping.
Then it headed to that same high-end complex out west, where it stayed until 8 p.m.
I looked up that complex out west. It's called Parkview Residences. The average price is 27000 dollars per square meter, and it's all about luxury, fully furnished apartments.
I made a note of the address.
At noon, he messaged me: [Did you eat lunch? Should I order you some takeout?]
I replied: [I already ate. You focus on your work.]
He replied with a hug emoji.
I looked at the emoji, then put my phone face down on the table.
At 2 p.m., I called my assistant at the firm and asked her to look into someone named Sophie Lane.
My assistant was lightning fast. Half an hour later, she reported back: Sophie, twenty-five, got her master's from a prestigious university last year, and she's a product manager at Michael's company, just one year after joining.
Twenty-five.
She's six years younger than me.
And nine years younger than Michael.
I saved the info to my folder, shut down my laptop, and headed to the bathroom.
In the mirror, I saw a thirty-one-year-old woman. She still got a decent figure, skin's not bad, but those crow's feet at the corners of her eyes were real.
I splashed cold water on my face.
The water was icy, and it snapped me back to reality.