Chapter 3

The charity gala continued, and a live auction began. Mark, back at my side as if nothing had happened, became the aggressive CEO I knew from his business dealings. He raised his paddle with authority, his voice sharp and confident.

"Sold, to Mr. Mark Davis!" the auctioneer boomed.

He won two items back-to-back. The first was a weekend getaway to a luxury spa, which he presented to me with a flourish. "For you, Liv. You deserve a break."

The second was a breathtaking diamond necklace. As the auctioneer described its rarity, I saw Chloe across the room, her eyes fixed on it, a covetous gleam in them. Mark won the bid effortlessly.

I assumed it was another piece of the performance, a public gift for his wife.

But as soon as the auction concluded, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and a hurried expression crossed his face. "I have to take care of something. A work emergency. I'll have the driver take you home."

He left before I could say a word. I knew where he was going.

The next morning, the proof was on my social media feed. Chloe had posted a selfie. She was glowing, her head tilted just so. Around her neck was the diamond necklace from the auction.

The caption read: "Some girls get all the luck. Thank you to my man for knowing exactly what I want. #Blessed"

Fury, cold and pure, surged through me. It wasn't just the affair anymore. It was the public disrespect, the deliberate humiliation. He had bought me a spa weekend and her a diamond necklace, in the same room, on the same night.

I screenshotted the post, the necklace a glittering symbol of his betrayal, and emailed it to Mr. Thompson. "More evidence," I wrote. Each piece I sent him felt like a nail being hammered into the coffin of our marriage. I was no longer just a victim; I was building a case. I was taking back control.

The spa voucher sat on the kitchen counter, a mockery of his supposed care. I picked it up and ripped it into tiny pieces, letting them fall into the trash like confetti at a funeral.

Mark didn't come home that night, or the next. I didn't expect him to. The house was quiet, filled with the ghosts of our shared past.

His call came on the third day. His voice was strained. "Liv, I'm with Leo. We're at the park."

He was using our son as a bridge, a way to talk to me without addressing the chasm between us.

"That's nice," I said, my voice devoid of emotion.

Before he could continue, a message popped up on my phone. It was from Chloe. How she got my number for a second time, I didn't know, but her cruelty was limitless.

"Your son likes me more than you. He even said he wishes I was his mommy. If you know what's good for you, you'll sign the papers and disappear. Otherwise, I can't guarantee Leo will want to see his real mom ever again."

A tremor of fear and anger went through me. Threatening my relationship with my son was a line I hadn't thought even she would cross.

Mark was still talking on the phone. "...so I was thinking maybe I could bring him home and we could all have dinner."

"I have plans," I said, my voice sharp. I looked around the empty house. The only plan I had was to get through the next hour.

I remembered the early days of his company, how I' d used my own savings to help him start it. I' d worked alongside him, handling the books, managing the office, putting my own career on hold. I did it because I believed in him, in us.

A bitter taste filled my mouth.

"Mark," I said, a sudden, cold idea forming in my mind. "Are you busy tonight?"

"Well, I was going to..." he started, no doubt planning to spend the evening with Chloe.

"I miss you," I said, the words feeling like poison on my tongue. "Could I come see you? Maybe we can talk." It was a test. A final, pointless test.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. I could hear Chloe's voice in the background, faint and demanding.

"Actually, Liv," he said, his voice strained. "Tonight's not a good time. I have a late meeting. Raincheck?"

Disappointment, sharp and familiar, pierced through my numbness. He failed. As I knew he would.

"Of course," I said, my voice light, almost cheerful. "A raincheck."

The hypocrisy was suffocating. He wanted to play the concerned husband, the loving father, but only when it was convenient, only when it didn't interfere with his real life.

I hung up the phone and walked into our bedroom. Our wedding photo sat on the nightstand. We looked so young, so full of hope. I stared at our smiling faces, trying to remember what that felt like. When did it all go so wrong?

I remembered when he first hired Chloe. She was fresh out of college, eager and sharp. I had been the one to tell him she was a go-getter, that she would be an asset. He had praised my judgment. "You always know how to pick them, Liv." The memory was a cruel joke now.

I thought back to the first time I suspected something. It was months ago. A late-night text he tried to hide. An excuse about a business dinner that didn't add up. I had pushed the doubts away, told myself I was being paranoid. I had trusted him.

Then came the first anonymous email. A single photo of him and Chloe, kissing in his office. I had stared at it until my eyes burned, my world tilting on its axis. I confronted him, and he denied it, claimed it was photoshopped by a disgruntled ex-employee. He was so convincing, so earnest in his lies, that I chose to believe him. I wanted to believe him.

Now, sitting in the silent room, the chain of betrayals was laid out before me, clear and undeniable. I had been a fool.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. I felt a wave of exhaustion so profound it was physical. I just wanted it all to be over.

A few hours later, I heard the front door open. Mark came in, leading a happy, chattering Leo by the hand.

"Mommy, we went to the giant toy store!" Leo yelled, holding up a new action figure.

Mark smiled at me, a warm, familial smile that made my stomach turn. He walked over and handed me a small, elegantly wrapped box.

"A little something for you," he said.

I opened it. Inside was a delicate gold bracelet. It was beautiful. For a split second, a flicker of the old affection returned. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was trying.

Then, as he leaned in to kiss my cheek, his phone, which he'd left on the end table, lit up. A new message. From Chloe.

I couldn't help but glance at it.

"Did you give the old fish the bracelet? Don't forget, you promised me the matching earrings. Can't wait for you to put them on me tonight. xxx"

The flicker of hope died instantly, replaced by an icy cold that spread through my veins. The bracelet on my wrist suddenly felt like a shackle. I looked at him, at his smiling, deceitful face, and felt nothing but a vast, empty wasteland where my love for him used to be.

I didn't say a word. I just smiled back, a tight, brittle smile. The pain was so intense it was almost serene. It was the calm before the storm. And I was the storm. My love for him, once a steady flame, had been completely extinguished. Now, all that was left were the ashes.