Chapter 3

“Mr. Julian spares no expense for Brianna; everyone’s buzzing about how he values love over profit, hahaha.”

“Exactly!” a paunchy businessman picked up his glass. “Brianna, why don’t you join us in toasting Mr. Julian?”

My steps faltered, my hand freezing on the doorknob. Julian was allergic to alcohol; he never drank. Even at business dinners, I was always the one on the front lines, shielding him. I watched the wine glass on Julian’s table as Brianna pouted, “No way I’m drinking. My Julesy would never let me.”

“Right, Julesy?”

Brianna clung to Julian’s arm, pouting. And Julian, incredibly, picked up the glass, his eyes cool as he looked at the man.

“Brianna isn’t drinking.”

“If you want a toast, Mr. Thompson, why don’t you and I drink?”

I watched Julian down the glass of wine. The room erupted in cheers, Brianna blushing as she praised Julian for being a hero. Julian just gave her a doting smile and playfully pinched her cheek. My body felt as if it were being carved open by a rusty, blunt knife, leaving jagged, terrifying wounds.

I saw the crimson blood gush from those wounds, saw myself riddled with holes, yet still wondering if there might be some misunderstanding.

Chloe, seeing me sway, grabbed my arm, about to rush in and rip Julian a new one. “Julian’s a total beast!”

I held Chloe back, pulled out my phone, and called Julian. I still clung to a desperate hope that Julian would give me an explanation himself, that he’d tell me there was another side to the story. I watched Julian pick up the phone from the table, his expression complex as he looked at Brianna.

Brianna, without a second thought, pressed ‘decline.’

Brianna then hugged his arm again, reminding him, “You promised.”

“You said,” Brianna bit her lip, looking at him, “you’d have my back.”

Brianna stared at Julian, stubbornly.

I stubbornly redialed Julian’s number, again and again. The screen on the table lit up and went dark, went dark and lit up, until finally, Julian made his decision.

“Okay.”

“I promised you.”

Julian flipped his phone over, completely cutting off my calls. Brianna broke into a wide smile. And that smile was the final straw that broke me.

I almost collapsed, but from my grief, I managed to squeeze out a sliver of rationality. I pointed to the ceiling.

“The surveillance.”

“The surveillance,” my voice trembling. “Save it. I need evidence.”

I stared at the surveillance cameras, then at Julian’s gradually paling face, and told Chloe, “Since Julian made his choice, I won’t let him have an easy time of it.”

I got into Chloe’s car.

As Chloe scrolled through all the documents she’d pulled up.

Julian, taking Brianna on scenic trips.

Brianna’s TikTok was like a vast web, weaving together her love story with Julian, a story that never once included me.

I saw a video from last month, when I was away on a business trip. Brianna was sitting in *my* Porsche, recording.

In the video.

Her smile was dazzling. “What should I do, fam? Hubby’s car broke down, so he bought a new one, a bit feminine. I’m secretly preparing a surprise for him.”

She recorded the GPS voice, then shushed the camera.

“Guess what?”

“Will Hubby like this surprise? Will he buy me little cookies?”

I suppressed my disgust, scrolling down further. I saw that on the day I was at the hospital for my IVF appointment, Brianna was at the same OB/GYN clinic, holding a lab report, her face flushed with coy shyness.

“Mainstream Hubby hasn’t gotten her period in a month and a half!”

“Fans, guess, is Mainstream Hubby just having irregular periods, or—” she giggled. “Is she getting a promotion to Mommy?”

“That despicable hussy!”

Chloe slammed her hand on the steering wheel in anger. But I, surprisingly, no longer felt the initial rage and pain of betrayal. I simply told her.

“Julian has a low sperm count.”