Chapter 3

It was evening by the time I got home. As I unlocked the front door, Julian’s laughter echoed from the hallway.

A girl’s coquettish giggles spilled out from his phone.

The moment the lock clicked, he hurriedly hung up.

He emerged from the bedroom with a polished smile. "Hey babe, where were you today? You didn't hear anything, did you?"

"Just grabbed dinner with a friend. Who was that?" I asked innocently.

He let out a visible sigh of relief. "Dr. Miller had an emergency, so I’m covering his night shifts for the next few days. I won't be able to sleep at home. You understand, right, honey?"

"Of course. Go pack your things," I said, strolling past him.

While he stepped into the walk-in closet, I snatched his unlocked phone.

“Booking Confirmed: Rosewood Resort & Spa.”

A luxury resort suite. I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white.

Tonight, I was going to unmask this mistress.

In less than five minutes, Julian was fully packed.

Usually, he took half an hour just to pick a watch. He was clearly desperate to get into her bed.

I picked up his duffel bag smoothly. "Julian, it's lonely driving to the hospital at night. Let me drive you."

Panic flared in his eyes. He quickly took the bag from my hands.

"Don't bother, honey. You just got home. Get some rest."

I forced a loving smile and hugged his arm. "You work so hard for us. Be careful on the road."

The moment he walked out, I pulled out my phone and synced to our dashcam app.

He had forgotten that both of our cars shared the same dual-camera security system.

Back when we were hopelessly in love, we set it up so we could listen to each other's commutes.

My heart pounded against my ribs. Wanting to push him to the edge, I dialed his cell.

"Julian... tomorrow is my dad’s birthday dinner. Can you please take tomorrow night off? Just to be there for me?"

He didn't hesitate for a second. "Chloe, stop throwing tantrums. I'm working, not partying! You don't work, so you have no idea how stressful my career is. Goodbye."

He hung up. Sixty seconds. That was all it took to crush whatever was left of my bleeding heart.

Through the live dashcam feed, I watched him pull over two blocks from our neighborhood.

A slim figure wrapped in a designer trench coat jogged into the camera frame.

As she opened the passenger door, the streetlights illuminated her face.

My breath caught in my throat.

It was Tiffany Ross.

The twenty-two-year-old daughter of Dr. Ross—Julian’s mentor and medical supervisor!

He was thirty-two, and she was a college senior. A ten-year gap, and the daughter of the man who built his career!

Before I could even process the shock, heavy breathing and moans crackled through my phone's speaker.

They couldn't even wait to reach the hotel.

"Julian, stop~ You're ripping my silk blouse!" Tiffany giggled seductively.

Julian’s husky, ravenous voice answered, "I'll buy you a hundred more blouses, baby. Now give me what I’ve been craving all week."

...

I saved the video file to my secure drive and tossed the phone onto the bed. I felt dirty just listening to it.

Cold fury replaced my despair. I knew exactly where to strike.

Tiffany worked as an intern at the same hospital network under her father’s influence.

I was planning my move when my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

A message from an unknown number: Tiffany.

A photo popped up.

Julian was asleep on luxury hotel sheets, completely naked, his arm draped possessively over her waist.

A follow-up text read: “Hey Chloe. Julian hasn't left my bed all week. Thought you should know.”

Did she really think flaunting her home-wrecking was a badge of honor?

I feigned a panicked breakdown and immediately called the number.

She answered within seconds, her voice smug and arrogant.

"Tiffany..." I sobbed convincingly into the receiver. "How could you do this to me?! Did your father teach you to be a shameless homewrecker?!"

A cold sneer came through the line. "Save the tears, Chloe. If Julian loved you, I wouldn't be here. The unloved one is the real intruder. Sign the divorce papers and set him free."

I knew her type—spoiled, entitled, and reckless.

I pitched my voice higher, sounding hysterical: "Keep dreaming! Julian loves me! All it takes is one call, and he’ll come running right back to my bed!"

Hearing that I wasn't completely broken, she lost her temper. "Try it, then! Let’s see if he picks up your pathetic call!"

"Watch me!" I slammed the phone down and dialed Julian.

The line rang twice before cutting directly to voicemail. Then, he blocked my calls.

Little did Tiffany know, that was exactly what I wanted.