Thirty Days To Ruin My Cheating Husband

pen with a soft click that felt

The iPad sat on her vanity, screen glowing, unlocked. Frederic never left it unlocked.

s hovered above the glass, cold, trembling. The screen s

e woman whose face was tilted up to his, lips parted, waiti

k. She stared at the date stamp in the corner-last

rd. She gripped the vanity edge, knuckles white, and forc

A hotel room. White sheets. Frederic's watch on the night

confirmation of the captured betrayal. She almost dropped the device, both hands shooting out to cradle it like

with the intensity of someone defusing explosives. Done. She deleted the local send history, scrubbed the

. Screen still glowing. Still unlocked. Still s

nd her winter coats, a matte black rectangle built into the wall. She spun the dial. Not a birthday. Not an anniversary. She entere

d open with a

seventeen, the page she'd memorized in darker moments. The net worth clause. The infidelity ex

twenty-four, dizzy with love, convinced that Frederic McLaughlin IV wa

back inside. Locked th

the faucet to cold, maximum pressure, and cupped her hands.

. Eyes too bright. But something else t

lashing, his hand possessive at her waist. The clasp gave easily. She held it for a moment, watching the stones catch the light, the

t close t

f from the bottom, behind the first edition Fitzgerald that Frederic had never opened. Her fing

e'd built it herself, years ago, before she'd learned to smile a

rowser. Onion routing. Her fingers danced across the keyboard,

the McLaughlin family trusts. She ran a diagnostic, her eyes scanning lines of code, checking for backdoors, for vulnerabilities she might have missed. The arch

of low-level flags designed to look like routine system queries. To any outside observer, it was digital noise. To her, it was the first tremor of a co

ust with real-time asset locations. By morning, she would have a complete schematic of every shell company, e

SPER]. A white-hat hacker she'd known since her MIT days. A ghost in the machine who valued code purity above all else

seconds. `[ACK. NEST IS WA

strategy. Thirty days to erase Evia Conway McLaughlin from ev

iped the keyboard with her sleeve out of habit,

ion ghosted against the dark glass, when the sound reached her. The Aston Martin's engi

the fountain. The car

ning a hand through his hair. The gesture she'd once found charmi

eaved. She sw

e, breathing, letting the blackness settle over her like armor. When she opened the door to the hallway, her

anging pleasantries with the housekeeper, complaining about the chill. Evia de

anding off his coat, his profile sharp under the chandelier's glare. He

rli

nt of him reached her first-his cologne, yes, but underneath it, somet

er hand reaching for the Ming vase on the pedestal beside her. She adjusted a

umbled slightly, recovering with the grace

vi

distant to her own ears. Calm. Perfectly modu

nothing, seeing everything in the vase's curved reflection. Fred

h that the foreign perfume invaded her lungs. "London was mis

eaf. Then another

er shoulder, heavy, proprietary. "This gala season

er. She turned finally, the vase between them, and held out the hand towel the

nch. She'd learned not to flinch. He wiped his hands, studying her

g alright? You

ove. At the lie she'd lived inside for three years.

set the towel as

against the marble. She didn't look back. She didn't need to. She could feel his eye

ecorated and despised. Evia walked it like a woman walking toward an exi

eric cleared his

ause. The mask was perfec