Chapter 3

Evidence. I needed concrete, undeniable evidence.

Evidence that proved their affair without a shadow of a doubt.

The next day, I called in sick for the afternoon.

I texted Ethan, saying my company was hosting a mandatory off-site networking dinner and I wouldn't be back until late.

He bought it instantly. He even texted back telling me to have fun and drive safe.

The second I hung up, I drove straight to the condo complex.

I didn't go upstairs. Instead, I parked across the street from the building, right where I had an unobstructed view of the main lobby entrance.

I sat in the driver's seat and waited.

From 3:00 PM all the way until 9:00 PM.

During that time, Chloe came down once with her son to grab groceries from the corner market.

Her little boy was rocking a brand-new pair of limited-edition Nike Dunks and clutching a massive Lego set in his arms.

Pretty flashy lifestyle for a 'struggling single mom' who couldn't afford rent.

At 9:30 PM, a familiar gray pickup truck rolled into view.

Ethan's truck.

He parked near the curb, didn't get out right away, but sat in his cab for about fifteen minutes.

Then, he stepped out carrying a toolbox.

I let out a cold, bitter sneer.

Creeping into a single woman's apartment in the dead of night with a toolbox?

What was he fixing? The pipes or her loneliness?

I pulled out my phone, hit record, and zoomed in on the glass lobby doors.

After Ethan disappeared inside, I kept sitting there in the dark.

It was nearly midnight when he finally walked back out.

His gait was slightly unsteady, a hint of exhaustion on his face, but the corners of his mouth were pulled into a satisfied smirk.

He got into his truck and drove off.

I saved the video clip, tagging the file with the exact date, time, and location.

Still, that wasn't enough.

I needed undeniable proof of infidelity.

The following evening, I made up an excuse. I told Ethan my parents were asking for pictures of the newly finished condo, and asked if I could borrow his phone to flip through his camera roll.

He hesitated for a second, but eventually unlocked it and handed it over.

"There aren't many photos in there, honestly. I was so busy managing the subs on-site that I barely took any progress shots," he explained smoothly.

I nodded, opening his gallery.

Sure enough, there were only a handful of generic construction photos.

Ethan was meticulous. I knew he wasn't dumb enough to leave dirty laundry out in the open.

But I wasn't giving up.

I knew Ethan inside and out. He wouldn't keep the evidence in his main gallery, but he definitely couldn't resist saving trophies in a place he considered 'foolproof.'

I tapped on a hidden vault app disguised as a calculator on his home screen.

I had set it up for him back when we first got married to store client contracts and invoices.

Back then, he had set the master passcode to my birthday, claiming it was so 'his lovely wife could inspect his files anytime.'

He had never bothered to change it over all these years.

I punched in the six digits, my fingertips trembling slightly.

The vault unlocked. There were no contracts inside—just a hidden, encrypted photo folder.

I stared at the thumbnail for several long seconds, my pulse racing violently.

I knew his naming habits all too well: "Work Backups." Simple, boring, totally unremarkable.

I took a deep breath and clicked on the folder.

My breath caught in my throat.

The pictures were filled with Ethan and Chloe.

There they were, cuddled up on the plush velvet couch inside my parents' condo, snapping selfies against the custom marble accent wall.

There they were, sitting inside the massive freestanding soaking tub, covered in bubbles, Chloe leaning back against Ethan's bare chest with a giddy, lovesick smile.

There they were, tangled together on the king-sized memory foam mattress—Ethan shirtless, and Chloe wearing that exact silk bathrobe.

And then there was a picture of Chloe's son.

He was sitting at a brand-new study desk in the second bedroom, flashing a peace sign at the camera.

A children's study desk... an item that had never been on my elderly parents' floor plan.

I swiped through the pictures, each one slashing across my heart like a serrated blade.

Turns out, I had been the biggest clown in the room all along.

His supposed devotion was just a cover to bleed my parents dry.

My trust, our vows, our marriage—it had all been a calculated, disgusting scam from day one.

I quickly AirDropped every single file to my burner phone.

Once the transfer finished, I wiped the sharing logs clean and handed the phone back to Ethan.

"Well? Did you find any good shots?" he asked casually.

I looked up at him, forcing the tightest, sweetest smile onto my face.

"Yeah, saw them. Everything looks great. You worked so hard, babe."

My voice wavered slightly, but he was too arrogant to notice.