Chapter 2

"Cole's activity classes got more expensive," I said while opening the household ledger. "There's not much left in our joint account. Is the company doing okay?"

"The company's fine." Adeline barely glanced at the numbers. "The gala budget was approved a while ago. If we're short, put it on the credit card. I'll transfer more money into the account next month."

"The gala... Is it at the Grand Monarch Hotel?"

"Yeah. The Starlight Ballroom." Something flickered in her eyes. "How'd you know?"

"I saw an ad when I drove by the other day." I lowered my gaze. "I heard it's expensive."

"This is the company's tenth anniversary. It should look the part." She wrapped her arms around me. "Once things settle down, I'll take you and Cole to Silver Coast."

Another promise.

"Oh, right." I looked up. "Can I see the event schedule? It's kind of funny that I don't even know what our own company's anniversary gala looks like."

After a few seconds of silence, she said, "Sure. I'll send it to you."

A minute later, the digital event schedule and seating chart arrived.

"Just take a look. Don't forward it to anyone."

"I know."

She rose and headed for the shower.

I unlocked my phone and pulled up the gala seating chart.

Head Table 01: CEO Adeline Hemsley

Head Table 02: Owen Wakefield, Administration Department

Administration Department. So he worked at the company, right there under her nose.

I took screenshots, uploaded them to the cloud, and backed them up on an encrypted drive.

As I passed the study, I noticed the door was slightly ajar. Her old laptop sat on the desk, with the power light still on.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Her laptop wasn't password-protected.

The folders were a mess, and I clicked into one labeled "Work Backup 2021."

As I was closing it, something caught my eye: a strangely named folder called O.

I double-clicked the file, and a password prompt filled the screen. I tried her birthday, my birthday, and the company's founding date. None of them worked.

Then, I entered Owen Wakefield.

The folder opened.

It was full of photos.

There were dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.

Team dinners, business trips, after-parties, hotel rooms. The photos spanned three years, and the same man appeared in every frame. He looked young, handsome, and effortlessly confident.

In other photos, Adeline's hand rested on his shoulder in some photos and around his waist.

My fingernails dug into my palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks, but I didn't feel a thing.

I plugged in a flash drive and started copying everything.

The progress bar inched forward, from 1% to 5%, then 10%.

At some point, the bathroom door suddenly opened, and footsteps headed toward the study. I pulled out the flash drive, closed the laptop, and turned around with a smile.

"All done? Your pajamas are on the bed."

Adeline stopped in the doorway, water dripping from her hair as her eyes flicked toward the laptop. "What are you doing in here?"

"Looking for Cole's vaccination record. His preschool needs it tomorrow."

I held up a small booklet. "Your old laptop was still running. Seemed like a waste of electricity."

"I forgot to shut it down." She walked over and pressed the power button. "Don't use my computer anymore. There are confidential company files on it."

"Got it, Ms. Hemsley." I laughed, gave her a light pat, and walked out of the study.

The flash drive went into a hidden compartment at the very bottom of my desk drawer.

There was already a collection growing there: screenshots of transfers, screen recordings of chat histories, and phone numbers from unknown contacts.

I needed more.

A few days later, I met with Raymond Blythe. He was my college roommate, now one of the city's best divorce attorneys.

After listening to the short version of everything, he sat in silence for a long time.

"Are you sure you want to sue?"

"I'm sure." I watched the traffic outside the window. "I want her to pay for what she did."

"Alright." Raymond pulled out a notebook. "If you want to take someone down, you hit them where it hurts."

"And where's that for her?"

"The company." Raymond paused with his pen above the page. "She's the founder, but the ownership is marital property. If you can prove marital misconduct, you'll have a huge advantage when it comes to dividing assets. It could even affect control of the company."

He looked at me steadily.

"But this road is long, and it's going to get ugly. You need to be ready for that."