Dylan brought me coffee the next morning.
That was how I knew he was nervous.
He never made coffee. He had assistants for that. Baristas who knew his order by heart. An entire building that revolved around his convenience.
Yet here he was, standing at the edge of our marble kitchen island, sleeves rolled up, looking devastatingly handsome and falsely attentive.
“I thought you could use this,” he said softly, sliding the cup toward me.
I looked up from my phone, widening my eyes as if surprised by the gesture. “You made it?”
A faint smile curved his lips. “I can be domestic when I try.”
If domestic meant cheating and laundering marital assets, sure.
I wrapped my hands around the warm mug and let my fingers tremble just slightly. “You didn’t have to. I know you’re busy.”
His gaze sharpened.
He was studying me.
Assessing.
Measuring whether last night had done permanent damage.
I lowered my lashes, playing the fragile wife perfectly.
“About yesterday,” he began, walking around the island until he stood behind me. His hands slid onto my shoulders, thumbs pressing lightly into my skin. “I hate that you felt insecure.”
Insecure.
Not betrayed.
Not suspicious.
Just insecure.
I swallowed and leaned back into him. “I’m sorry for overreacting. Olivia probably just misunderstood.”
There it was.
The smallest flicker of relief crossed his face.
Hooked.
“Exactly,” he said smoothly. “You trust me, right?”
“With everything,” I replied again.
Lie number twenty-seven this month.
He exhaled like a man whose biggest problem had just been solved. “Good. I was actually thinking… maybe we should take a trip. Paris. Or the Amalfi Coast. Just the two of us.”
A vacation.
Classic distraction tactic.
Or perhaps an opportunity to finalize something without witnesses.
“That sounds amazing,” I whispered, then hesitated on cue. “But won’t the board need you? I don’t want to pull you away from something important.”
His jaw tightened briefly before smoothing out. “The company can survive a few days without me.”
But can your asset transfer timeline?
I forced a small, grateful smile. “You always put us first.”
He kissed my temple and checked his watch. “I have an early meeting. We’ll talk more tonight.”
He left twenty minutes later.
The second the penthouse door clicked shut, my posture changed.
I placed the coffee down untouched and walked straight into his office.
Yesterday, I’d gathered surface evidence.
Today, I needed deeper leverage.
Mia had coached me carefully.
If Dylan was accelerating transfers, we had to document every unauthorized movement before he locked everything down.
I sat at his desk and powered on the secondary laptop he thought I didn’t know about.
He’d gotten sloppy.
Arrogance always made men sloppy.
The password was predictable.
Our anniversary.
Of course it was.
I opened his financial dashboard.
And there it was.
Three new transfers scheduled for next week—moving joint investment funds into a Ford Holdings subsidiary.
I snapped photos, forwarded encrypted copies to Mia, then downloaded the transaction logs onto a secure drive hidden inside my vanity case.
My pulse didn’t spike.
It steadied.
Every line item was a nail in his coffin.
I was about to shut the laptop when a notification popped up.
Olivia Carter: Lunch at 1? Miss you already.
Miss you already.
My mouth curved.
I took a screenshot.
Then another.
Then opened his messaging history.
He’d archived most of their conversations, but not all.
Scrolling carefully, I found threads full of inside jokes, hotel confirmations, and promises.
Soon, baby. She’s clueless. I just need the paperwork finalized.
Paperwork.
So that was his timeline.
He wasn’t just planning divorce.
He was preparing financial insulation.
I closed the laptop and stood.
Enough for today.
—
At 12:45 p.m., I sat in a café across from Ford Group headquarters, sunglasses on, hair tied back casually.
From this angle, I had a perfect view of the entrance.
At 1:07, Olivia arrived.
White blazer. Nude heels. Lips painted in that familiar red rose shade.
She looked radiant.
Victorious.
At 1:12, Dylan stepped outside.
No assistant.
No security.
Just him.
He didn’t see me.
He crossed the street and greeted her with a kiss that was anything but subtle.
My chest didn’t tighten.
It chilled.
I lifted my phone and captured everything.
Them laughing.
Him touching her waist.
Her fingers brushing his tie.
Evidence.
Clean. Undeniable. Damning.
They went back inside together.
I waited five minutes before leaving.
Phase two was moving faster than expected.
—
That evening, Olivia came over unannounced.
Bold.
I was in the living room when the doorbell rang.
When I opened it, she wrapped me in a hug before I could react.
“I just had to see you,” she said breathlessly. “I felt awful after yesterday.”
Of course you did.