Chapter Four

Friday, October 6th 6:45AM

Honey woke the next morning with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt like she'd been chewing on cotton balls. The empty wine bottle on the coffee table explained why. She groaned, pushing herself up from the couch where she'd fallen asleep, still in yesterday's work clothes.

She had drunk the whole bottle. One thing she would not let Riley turn her into is a lush. She was going to be better off without him. A big sign they shouldn't be together was when she had found out about his cheating the only thing she felt was relief not heartbreak.

But what a stupid, arrogant shit he was to think she would stay with him or was it that he thought he could control her enough not to use the prenup. He would get nothing and now she had the proof she needed to make sure of that.

Her laptop sat open beside her. Pulling it toward her, Honey looked to see where she had finished last night. The document she'd created now spanning several pages of meticulously dated incidents. Even drunk, she'd been thorough. It was both impressive and depressing. Sighing she saved the file and closed her laptop.

Rubbing a hand over her eyes before looking around, the morning sun streamed through the living room windows, harsh and unforgiving. Honey glanced at her phone to check the time 6:45 AM. She had plenty of time before she needed to be at work, but she needed to get herself together.

She stumbled to the bathroom, avoiding her reflection in the mirror as she stripped off yesterday's clothes. Under the hot spray of the shower, her mind cleared enough to form a plan for the day. Meet with the PI, gather evidence, contact a divorce lawyer, and a few other things she needed to arrange. But most importantly act normal at work.

No one at Taylor Industries could know what was happening in her personal life. Especially not Grayson Taylor, who would no doubt use any sign of weakness against her in their next boardroom battle.

After drying off, she pulled her red hair into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, before pulling her brown wig into place. She applied minimal makeup, just enough to hide the effects of last night's wine, then donned her glasses, ones with clear lenses that helped complete her transformation into Joy Smith, CFO.

She chose a modest brown pantsuit, that was two sizes too big and had no shape whatsoever. The kind that made people underestimate her. It had always served her well. It wasn't as ugly as some of her outfits, but no one bothered to look passed the blah hair and glasses. This was all so she could make a name for herself and not ride on her father’s coattails. She was no nepo baby.

As she gathered her things, her phone buzzed with a text from Riley: Coming home to shower and change. I know you must be on the way to work. See you tonight, Baby.

Honey's jaw tightened. So, he'd spent the night with his mistress and now expected to waltz back in like nothing had happened. Little did he know she was working behind the scenes to kick his ass to the curb.

She typed back: At work all day. Then dinner with Lauren and Maggie tonight. A lie, but she couldn't bear to see him, not yet. Not until she had her plan firmly in place.

She headed to the office and started work. But was always checking the clock counting down the minutes until she saw Ben. In between working she made two phone calls, one to her doctor's office to get bloods done to make sure her cheater of a husband hadn't given her anything deadly. If he had she just might just kill him. The other call was to an electronic store, after taking her payment would deliver her order by this afternoon at the office.

At 11:25, Honey sat in the waiting room of Ben Walters' office in a nondescript building in Midtown. The space was deliberately bland with its beige walls, generic artwork, comfortable but unmemorable furniture. Nothing about it suggested that behind these walls.

"Mrs. Smith?" A receptionist appeared. "Mr. Walters will see you now."

Honey followed her down a short hallway to a corner office where Ben Walters rose from behind his desk to greet her. In his early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and the physique of a former cop who still kept in shape, he had the kind of face that blended into a crowd… perfect for his profession.

Ben, ever the professional, didn't say anything about her getup.

"Honey, it's been a while," he said, gesturing to a chair. "Your father mentioned you'd gotten married."

"I did. Three years ago." Honey sat, placing her purse on her lap. "And that marriage is the reason I need to speak with you today."

Ben nodded, settling back in his chair. "I assumed as much. Personal matters usually involve marriages… the beginning or the end of them."

Honey unzipped her purse and removed the plastic bag containing the pink thong. She placed it on his desk.

"I found this in my couch cushions last night. It's not mine."

Ben didn't blink. He'd likely seen far worse in his line of work. "Your husband is?"

"Riley Smith. He's a corporate attorney at Matthews & Booth." She handed over a printed sheet with Riley's information, the addresses of his office and the gym he frequented. "I need irrefutable evidence of his infidelity. Photos, video if possible. Enough to uphold the infidelity clause in our prenuptial agreement."

Ben studied the information. "Any idea who he might be involved with?"

"I suspect our housekeeper, Brittany Davis. Nineteen years old. Works Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from nine to three." Honey removed another sheet from her purse. "Her information is here, along with a list of nights Riley claimed to be working late or staying at his friend’s apartment, his details are also on the sheet."

Ben's eyebrows rose slightly at her thoroughness. "You've done half my job already."

"I like to be prepared for anything."

"So, I see." He leaned forward. "What's your timeline on this?"

Honey thought for a moment. "I need to secure my financial position before making any moves. The evidence first, then I'll consult with a divorce attorney. I have hidden cameras with motion sensors getting delivered to my office this afternoon. I can set them up myself."

"I won't even insult you by discussing money," Ben said. "Given the nature of the case, I'd estimate two weeks max of surveillance before we have what you need. If he is careful, it could take longer."

"That's acceptable." Honey nodded. "I'd like daily reports. I will also, in turn, send you anything I know." Honey didn't think it would take that long. Riley was cocky and thought he had her under control.

"Of course." Ben scribbled some notes. "One more thing… do you want to know details beyond what's necessary for the prenup? Some clients prefer to know everything, others just want the basics."

The question caught her off guard. Did she want to know if Riley whispered the same words to this girl that he'd once said to her when they were dating and first married? Honey didn't think it would upset her just dent her pride a little that she had been foolish to trust him.

"Just what's necessary for legal purposes," she decided. "I don't need the details of everything."

Ben nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I'll get started today."

"Send me an invoice and I'll wire a retainer this afternoon." Honey stood, extending her hand. "Thank you for your discretion."

"Always." He shook her hand firmly. "I'm sorry you're going through this, Mrs. Smith."

"It will be Ms Johnson soon and don't be," Honey said, surprised to find she meant it. "This marriage has been over for a long time. I just needed a reason to admit it to myself. Can I ask you not to tell my father? I will when it's time."

Back in her car, Honey checked her watch. She had time to grab lunch before heading to the office. Her phone buzzed with an email notification. Grayson Taylor, subject line: URGENT: Boston Deal Revisions.

She sighed, opening the message.

Smith,

Boston presentation needs to be redone. New parameters attached. Need completed slides by 4 PM today for my second meeting with them at 4:30 PM.

GT

No please, no thank you. Just demands, as usual. What made it worse was that she'd spent all of yesterday preparing those slides to his exact specifications.

"Goddamnit, Taylor," she muttered, starting her car. Eating would have to wait. Again. She would just grab a snack from the break room at the office.