Chapter 2
My gaze was locked on the job offer from Isabella glowing on my phone screen.
Just twenty-four hours ago, I was planning to politely decline this opportunity the moment we got back to Chicago, all for the sake of maintaining the delusion of my perfect little life.
But reality had just slapped me across the face.
I turned my head to look at Noah, still fast asleep in his sleeping bag. I had loved Liam—loved him enough to make myself small just to fit into his world.
But there are lines you don't cross. Betrayal is absolute.
I tapped the text box, deleting the polite rejection draft I'd already written. My fingers moved with cold precision.
[Bella, I've changed my mind. I want in on the project. How soon can we start?]
Pressing send felt like exhaling a breath I'd been holding for a decade. A strange, hollow sense of liberation washed over me.
Isabella replied instantly. [Seriously? Evelyn, this is the best decision you've ever made! I'm scheduling the partners' meeting for next week!]
I tossed the phone aside and started packing.
Right now, I had zero interest in continuing to play the role of the "Perfect Mother." The thought of that father-son duo weaving their web of lies made me want to end this ridiculous camping trip immediately.
My eyes swept over Noah. He was curled up, his sleeping face as innocent as a cherub. Watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, a bitter acid rose in my throat.
My son. The boy I carried for ten months. He had become a sleeper agent for his father.
Quietly, I flipped open my laptop. My first move was a direct, encrypted email to the most ruthless family law firm in Chicago.
Next came the financials. Real estate, trust funds, joint accounts. And the linchpin—my 15% equity in Liam's company. I made a note to request a forensic accounting of all assets.
If I was going to cut ties, I was going to bleed him dry.
With the financials organized, I logged into the backend of our home security system. Scrolling through the cloud archives, a file flagged for unusual duration caught my eye: Master Bathroom, Saturday, 2:00 AM.
I hit play.
The footage was high-definition and merciless. Simone was lounging in my jacuzzi tub, bubbles lapping at her shoulders. In her hand, she swirled a glass of red wine—Liam's prized vintage Cabernet.
Then, Liam walked into the frame. He was wearing my white silk robe, the one embroidered with my initials.
"This is a little tight," he complained with a grin, making no move to take it off.
Simone laughed, reaching out to smear foam on his chest. "Tight is good. It feels like... we're doing it right in front of her."
A second later, he stepped into the tub.
Wine splashed into the white foam like a jagged, ugly scar. They entangled in my bathtub—my sanctuary—turning it into a cesspool.
The wet sounds and heavy breathing coming through the speakers were more humiliating than any words could have been.
My bathtub. My robe. My husband.
A wave of visceral nausea hit me so hard my vision blurred. My fingers trembled as I clicked "Download All."
The moment the file hit my encrypted drive, a text from Liam popped up on my phone.
[Morning baby! Client meeting is wrapped up. What do you want for dinner tonight?]
Almost simultaneously, Noah's iPad lit up nearby. A message from Dad.
[Remember our deal, buddy. Stick to the script, and that limited edition Lego Death Star is all yours.]
I looked back and forth between the two screens.
One minute he's wearing my robe to screw his mistress; the next, he's playing the doting husband. And my son? He's being bribed to facilitate it.
The acting was nauseating. It was Oscar-worthy.
I snapped the laptop shut, forced a deep breath, and shoved the bile back down my throat. If they wanted to put on a show, fine. I'd stay for the encore.
Four hours later, at two in the afternoon, my black SUV pulled into the driveway.
Before I could even kill the engine, Liam was already standing on the front steps. He held a bouquet of roses in one hand and a conspicuous Harry Winston box in the other.
"Welcome home, my queen." He pulled me into a hug.
Noah leaped out of the car, vibrating with excitement. "Mom, look! Dad actually bought it!"
I felt sick, but I forced my facial muscles into a smile.
Liam cracked the box open. A pair of massive emerald earrings glittered in the sunlight.
"I chose the finest Colombian emeralds," he said, his voice dripping with affection. "Nothing else was good enough for you."
Noah immediately chimed in, "Dad spent so long picking them out! He said only these matched you, Mom!"
If I were still the blind, trusting wife I was yesterday, I might have cried tears of joy. Now, I just saw the irony.
I took the box, feigning admiration. My thumb brushed the edge of the velvet lining, pulling it back just enough for a folded piece of paper to slide out. He had tucked it underneath, likely in a rush.
The receipt.
It listed two items clearly.
Emerald Drop Earrings. Qty: 2. Unit Price: $12,500.
One pair for me. One pair for her.
I looked up, catching Noah trying to gauge my reaction.
"Two pairs?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm, holding up the slip of paper. "Who is the other pair for?"
Liam's face drained of color. He reached out, fingers twitching, as if to snatch the receipt back. "Oh, that... that's actually..."
The air stagnated for two seconds. Liam hadn't anticipated me checking the lining. This wasn't in his script.
But then Noah's voice cut in. It was too fast, too rehearsed, like a line he'd practiced in the mirror a hundred times.
"It's for Grandma!"
He ran to Liam's side, looking up at me with eyes that were frighteningly sincere. "Dad said Grandma's birthday is coming up, and since she's always so nice to you, we should get her the same gift! That way, it shows we're a real team! Dad asked if I thought it was a good idea, and I said it was super! Grandma is going to be so happy!"
The explanation was flawless—if you ignored the fact that my mother's birthday was still two months away.
Noah finished his monologue and immediately glanced up at Liam.
It was a look of desperate eagerness, a silent plea for validation—like a child actor waiting for the director to yell "Cut!" so he could go collect his paycheck.
Liam visibly exhaled, the tension draining from his shoulders. He reached down and gave Noah's shoulder a squeeze—a silent confirmation.
"Right... right, exactly," Liam said, finding his footing again. "I wanted it to be a double surprise."
Watching the silent communication between father and son, a bone-deep chill settled over me.
This wasn't just adultery. This was corruption.
To cover his tracks, my husband had conditioned our eight-year-old son to be his accomplice.
I didn't call him out. I simply folded the receipt and slid it into my pocket.
That evening, Liam's hand lingered on my shoulder, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Let me make it up to you tonight. I missed you."
The image of Simone in my robe flashed through my mind. My stomach turned.
"The drive wiped me out," I said, dodging his touch and heading for the bathroom.
After my shower, I stood before the vanity mirror and opened the dark blue velvet box.
I didn't put them on. I just held one earring up to the light, inspecting the cold, green stone. It was perfect. Expensive. And utterly filthy.
The bathroom door creaked open. Liam walked in, bringing a cloud of steam with him.
Seeing the jewelry in my hand, he moved behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his eyes meeting mine in the glass.
"I knew it," he murmured, his warm breath hitting the curve of my neck. "That green was made for your skin."
The mirror reflected us—the golden couple, the envy of the neighborhood, the winners of life.
Only I knew that beneath the glossy surface, the rot had already set in.
I looked at the hypocrite in the mirror, took a deep breath, and dropped the earring back into the box. It snapped shut with a definitive click.
I turned around, looking him dead in the eye.
"Liam, we need to talk."
Liam's smile froze. A flicker of alarm sparked in his eyes. "Talk about what? You're not still thinking about that receipt, are you—"
I looked at the man I had loved for ten years, and then I thought of the son he had corrupted with lies.
The sharp pain was gone. All that remained was a dead, icy calm.
"Not the earrings. Our marriage."
Liam went rigid. "What?"
I opened my mouth, and the words I had rehearsed in my heart finally broke free.
"Liam, I want a..."
