Chapter 3

Chloe changed tactics. The anger vanished, replaced by a forced, syrupy sweetness that was even more unnerving.

She walked over to the expensive leather briefcase she'd dropped by the door and pulled out a small, rectangular box.

"I didn't want to give this to you while we were fighting," she said, her voice soft now. She held it out to me. "Here."

I looked at the box, then at her. This was a classic Chloe move. When cornered, create a diversion. Dangle something expensive to distract from the real issue.

I didn't take it.

Instead, I looked her straight in the eye.

"What's today, Chloe?"

She blinked, thrown off balance. "What do you mean? It's Thursday."

"What's the date?" I asked, my voice cold and even.

"I don't know, the tenth? The eleventh? Liam, what does it matter?"

"It's the twelfth," I said. "October twelfth. Does that date mean anything to you?"

A flicker of confusion crossed her face, then a dawning, horrified realization. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She had forgotten. She had actually forgotten.

"Our anniversary," she finally whispered, the words sounding like an admission of guilt.

"Our wedding anniversary," I corrected her. "The day you promised to be my partner. The day you promised to love and cherish me. You forgot."

I let out a short, bitter laugh. "It's funny, though. I bet you didn't forget Mark's birthday last month. I remember you spent a week planning that 'surprise' party for him at the office."

"That's not fair!" she snapped, her defensiveness returning full force. "That was for team morale! My relationship with Mark is professional. It's what keeps this family afloat! The mortgage on this house, the tuition for Noah's private school, my salary pays for all of that!"

She was trying to frame her choices as sacrifices for the family, a noble burden she carried all by herself.

"I know what your 'professional relationship' is," I said, my voice dropping. "I know you're not just working late with him. You're building something else."

I saw the flash of genuine panic in her eyes this time.

"I saw the emails on your tablet when you left it unlocked last night," I said, the words coming out flat and heavy. "Project Nightingale. A new company. Using the core AI from your current firm. You're not just having meetings, Chloe. You and Mark are planning to steal proprietary technology and start your own company."

The air in the room went still. The expensive, unopened gift box sat on the desk between us, a monument to a lie.

"That's not just a bad business decision," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "It's not just about us anymore. That's fraud. It's theft. You've crossed a line, Chloe. A line you can't come back from."