Chapter 3

3 During the following week, I did three things.

First, I pulled records for every bank account under Silas’s name for the last eighteen months. Three checking accounts, three credit cards. It totaled $283,760 across forty-seven transfers to Lexi’s account.

Second, I compiled every transfer I had ever made to him. His senior year, when he failed his grad school exams, I paid $5,000 for his prep courses. When he graduated, I bought him $12,000 worth of art equipment and high-end computers. His first year of work, his salary was barely enough for groceries―I covered the rent, the utilities, and his clothes.

When he tried to start his own studio, I watched $150,000 of my savings go down the drain. Over the years, I had spent nearly half a million dollars on him.

Third, I scheduled a meeting for a post-nuptial financial audit.

Once that was done, I took a business trip.

San Francisco. Three days.

Before leaving, I left a note on the kitchen island: “Going to SF for work. Back Friday. Throw out the leftovers.”

Silas was busy gaming and didn't even look up. “Yeah, got it.”

He didn't even ask which company I was visiting.

On my first night in SF, Silas called me several times. I didn't pick up.

I was at a dinner hosted by our partners. Sitting across from me was a young man, the project manager. His name was Julian Grant―he was three years younger than me. He wore a crisp white shirt, gold-rimmed glasses, and had the kind of face that made people look twice.

“Gwen, the CEO specifically asked me to work with you. He says you’re the sharpest legal mind we’ve ever partnered with.” Julian poured my wine with practiced grace.

“The CEO is too kind.”

Halfway through dinner, my phone buzzed.

Silas.

I answered it.

“Where are you?”

“San Francisco. On a trip. I told you this.”

“Who are you with?”

I moved the phone away from my ear. “Clients. We’re at dinner.”

“Turn on your video.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, turn on your video. I want to see who you’re eating with.”

The table went silent. Julian set down his fork and looked at me curiously.

“Silas, I’m working. I’m not playing games with you.” I lowered my voice. “I’ll send you my location when I get back to the hotel.”

“You’re hiding something. That’s why you won't show me.”

I laughed―a short, effortless sound.

“Fine. Julian, come here. Say hi to my husband.”

I flipped the camera. Julian waved naturally. “Hey there. I’m Julian, Gwen’s partner on this project. Nice to meet you.”

On the screen, Silas’s face turned into a mask of pure shock.

He hung up immediately.

I put the phone on the table and poured Julian a drink. “Sorry about that. Family drama.”

“No worries. Your husband seems… very protective.”

“He’s not protective.” I raised my glass. “He’s projecting. When a man is messily cheating, he assumes the whole world is doing the same.”

Julian blinked, then offered a small, knowing smile but didn't push further.

At 11:00 PM that night, Silas called again.

First a video call, which I ignored. Then seven missed calls. Finally, nine voice messages on WhatsApp.

“Why aren't you answering?”

“Who is that Grant guy? What’s going on between you two?”

“Gwen, where the hell are you? Send me your location now!”

“Are you guilty? Are you―”

I switched my phone to airplane mode.

When I got back to Seattle on Friday, I picked up my car and drove home. Silas was crouching by the front door of our building, looking exhausted and pathetic.

“You’re finally back.”

“Yep.”

“That Grant guy―”

“Who I eat with is none of your business.” I rolled my suitcase past him toward the elevator. “You have a ‘friend’ named Lexi, don't you? You two seem very close―close enough to share a hotel room? Maybe I should be the one asking who she is first.”

Before the elevator doors closed, I caught a glimpse of Silas’s face. He looked horrified, like a dog that had been caught digging in the trash but was too afraid to bark.