This story is written in two parts uploaded together because together wont be possible on this website.
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Lucas Hunt had always prided himself on the life he'd built—successfully navigating the high-stakes world of tech to earn a seven-figure salary, with the comfort and luxury that came with it. His mansion, his car, the trips to Paris, and, of course, his wife, Chloe, whose radiant smile had been the cherry on top of everything he'd ever dreamed. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He wasn't supposed to find out like this.
He only wanted to retrieve some old family photos.
The tablet, tucked away in a drawer for years, had been collecting dust. It had once held memories of their early years together—vacations, their wedding day, the birth of their daughter. Lucas had finally decided it was time to transfer the pictures to something more modern. The repair shop had promised it would be a quick fix. What he hadn't anticipated was the crack in the screen of his life, revealed in a dozen unfamiliar files.
Opening the device, Lucas swiped through the familiar images—until he saw it. A folder titled Private. His finger hesitated, but curiosity won out. What he found inside was not just pictures, but conversations—texts between Chloe and someone else. His stomach sank. They weren't flirtatious messages from the early days of their relationship, as he expected. No, these were recent. And they were unsettlingly cold. She had been with him… for the wrong reasons.
His hands shook as he scrolled further, uncovering a twisted reality he never could have imagined. The woman he thought he loved had been plotting, using him as a stepping stone to climb higher. And now, all those years of effort, the late nights at the office, the weekends spent earning more for their future, had led to this—the devastating moment when he learned just how much she had wanted it all, and how little she had ever wanted him.
The house was silent. Too silent.
Chloe was out running errands, and their daughter, Emily, was at her friend's house for a playdate. Lucas had almost welcomed the solitude—just him, a quiet afternoon, and the nostalgia of old memories. But now, the silence felt oppressive, a weight pressing down on his chest as he stared at the messages on the screen.
How long has she been doing this?
He scrolled further, his pulse hammering in his ears. The messages were cold, calculating. Some were between Chloe and an unnamed contact, discussing finances—his finances. Others were notes she had written to herself, almost like diary entries. Plans. Strategies. There was no love in them. Only numbers.
"Just a few more years. Once the investments are in my name, I can start making moves."
Lucas felt his stomach twist. His wife—the woman he had built a life with, the mother of his child—had been planning her exit strategy all along.
The sound of a car door closing outside jolted him back to reality. Chloe was home.
He locked the tablet and set it down, his mind racing. He wasn't ready to face her—not yet.
For the first time in his life, Lucas felt like a stranger in his own home.
Lucas took a slow, deep breath. His hands were steady as he slid the tablet into a drawer. His heart, though, was anything but calm. He was trained to solve problems, to analyze, to find patterns in chaos—yet he had never thought to apply those skills to his own life.
Now, everything was a data point.
When the front door opened, he turned with a practiced ease, slipping on the mask of the man he had been before—calm, composed, the devoted husband. Chloe stepped inside, setting a shopping bag on the counter with a careless thud.
"Hey, babe," she said, walking up to him.
Lucas watched her closely.
The way she smiled—too perfect, too controlled. A smirk, not a smile.
The way she leaned in and pressed a light, fleeting kiss to his cheek—habit, not affection.
The way she didn't ask about his day, didn't pause to chat, just breezed past him toward the bedroom—like he was an afterthought.
How had I never noticed?
Before, he had explained these things away. She's busy. She's tired. We've been together for years; things settle. But now, with the weight of the truth pressing down on him, every detail stood out like cracks in shattered glass.
Lucas clenched his jaw but kept his expression neutral. He couldn't let on that anything had changed. Not yet.
Instead, he called after her, his voice smooth, casual. "Long day?"
She hesitated for just a fraction of a second before answering. "Yeah. Running around all over town."
A lie most likely.
He needed to keep playing his role. Because if Chloe had been planning something—if she was waiting for the right moment to make her move—then he needed to be a step ahead.
And for that, she couldn't suspect a thing.
Lucas leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Chloe as she disappeared into the bedroom. His mind raced, but his face remained calm. He needed to move carefully—like a developer debugging a system without triggering a crash.
He grabbed his keys from the counter and called out, "I'm heading out to get Emily."
Chloe's voice came from the bedroom, muffled but indifferent. "Okay."
No hesitation. No second thought.
No Oh, I'll come with you or Give her a hug for me.
She didn't care.
Lucas exhaled slowly and stepped outside. The cool evening air hit him as he walked to his car, but he didn't drive off right away thinking what to do about Chloe.
Shoving his thoughts aside for now, he started the car and pulled out of the driveway. He needed to stay sharp—for Emily. Whatever was happening with Chloe, his daughter came first.
And as he drove down the quiet street toward the neighbor's house, he realized something else.
For the first time in his marriage, he was looking at Chloe not as his wife.
But as a problem to be solved.
Lucas didn't go and intermediately pickup Emily. Instead, he pulled into a small parking lot and headed to a pay phone.
A few taps, and the call was underway.
Chloe thought she had me all figured out, but there were things she didn't know. Such a vast amount of things that it would be made into a three-part movie series.
The person on the other line answered.
"It has happened again, code black, need info, keep head low."
The person on the other line didn't answer, and the call ended.
He got back into his car, smiling to himself, and headed for Emily friends house.
As Lucas drove, his mind drifted back to when it all started. College. Four back-to-back betrayals, each one more painful than the last. And James—his best friend—had gone through the same thing.
It had been one of those long nights, drowning frustration in cheap beer, when they decided they were done being blindsided. They spent an entire week planning, thinking like engineers—if betrayal was a bug in the system, then they needed a failsafe. A structure. A response plan.
That's how the folders came to be.
Five distinct action plans, color-coded and prepped for any situation. A single untraceable phone number, known only to four people—Lucas, James, and two others they trusted. If something felt off, all they had to do was call and trigger the right protocol.
Black– Something's Deep dive required: financial, social, work, everything.Blue– Possible infidelity. PI engagement necessary.Green– No betrayal. A clean, mutual separation, no disputes, no children.Yellow– Infidelity confirmed. Separation with disputes, especially if kids were involved.Red– Infidelity confirmed. No holds barred. Total destruction of the partner's social, economic, and business life. Children involved.
Each folder held contacts for private investigators, forensic accountants, lawyers—everything needed to execute the plan.
Now, Black had been triggered. That meant a PI was already being assigned to Chloe, and an accountant would start going through their finances.
Lucas gripped the wheel tighter. Chloe thought she was playing him, but she had no idea she'd just walked into a game where he already had the winning hand.
Lucas pulled up to the neighbor's house, shifting gears back into his usual self. A warm, appreciative smile, relaxed shoulders—nothing out of the ordinary.
Mrs. Callahan opened the door with a kind smile, Emily standing beside her, clutching her little stuffed bunny.
"Thanks for watching her," Lucas said, his voice easy, natural.
"Oh, it's always a pleasure," Mrs. Callahan beamed. "Emily and Sophie play so well together."
Emily ran up to him, wrapping her small arms around his leg. Lucas bent down, scooping her up effortlessly.
"Did you have fun, munchkin?" he asked, tapping her nose.
She nodded enthusiastically. "We played princesses and made a castle with pillows!"
He chuckled. "That sounds amazing. Maybe we should build one at home too."
After a few more pleasantries, he carried Emily to the car and buckled her in. As he pulled out of the driveway and headed toward home, her little voice piped up from the back seat.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"Can we get ice cream?"
Lucas glanced at her in the rearview mirror. Her wide, hopeful eyes—so innocent, untouched by the storm brewing in his mind.
He smiled. "Of course, baby girl. Ice cream sounds perfect."
Because no matter what was happening with Chloe, Emily deserved a father who showed up. A father who made sure she never felt anything less than loved.
As he drove toward their favorite ice cream shop, his mind worked in the background. Seven years of marriage. Four years of fatherhood. And now, the start of a battle Chloe didn't even know she had already lost.
But for now, it was just him and Emily. Just ice cream.
The war could wait a little longer.
Lucas sat across from Emily in the small ice cream parlor, a cup of vanilla with chocolate drizzle in front of him while Emily excitedly dug into her rainbow-sprinkled scoop of strawberry.
She swung her legs under the table, her little feet barely reaching the edge of the seat. "And then, Daddy, Sophie said that her kitty is a real princess but I told her that my bunny is the real princess because she has a tiara!"
Lucas gasped, playing along. "A tiara? Well, that definitely makes her royalty. What did Sophie say?"
Emily giggled. "She said her kitty has a crown—but I think she was just making it up."
Lucas chuckled, nodding as if this were the most serious debate in the world. "I think you might be right, munchkin. A tiara sounds way more official."
Emily beamed, clearly satisfied with his answer. She continued, talking about pillow castles, tea parties, and how Sophie's little brother tried to steal their cookies. Lucas listened, smiling, responding at just the right moments, soaking in her joy.
This—this—was the only thing in his life that was pure.
As she kept talking, he let himself forget, just for a moment, about the cold weight of the truth he had discovered. He let himself be just a dad, sharing ice cream with his little girl, watching her eyes sparkle as she told him about her world.
But in the back of his mind, the clock was still ticking. The investigation was already in motion. And once the results came in, everything would change.
For now, though, he savored the moment.
"Daddy?" Emily suddenly asked, tilting her head. "Why aren't you eating?"
Lucas snapped out of his thoughts and grinned, quickly taking a spoonful of his ice cream. "Oops! Guess I was too busy listening to my little princess."
Emily giggled, and just like that, the moment was safe again.
For now.
Back home, Lucas carried Emily inside, setting her down as she ran off to grab her little backpack. He followed her into the living room, where she eagerly pulled out a small workbook and some crayons.
"Alright, munchkin," he said, sitting beside her on the floor. "What are we working on today?"
"Letters!" she announced proudly, flipping to a page filled with big, outlined letters meant for tracing. "Miss Taylor said we have to do extra good today because it's almost time for our big alphabet party."
Lucas smiled. "Well then, we better make these the best letters ever."
Emily nodded determinedly and got to work, her tiny fingers gripping a crayon as she carefully traced each letter. Lucas guided her where needed, offering praise and little corrections, all while keeping his mind from wandering too far.
Then, from the kitchen, Chloe's voice called out. "Hey, I ordered takeout! Should be here in about thirty minutes."
Lucas blinked. Of course she did.
She never cooked.
In seven years of marriage, he could count on one hand the number of times she had actually made a meal. It had always been either him cooking or ordering out. And he had never questioned it—he had loved her, so he never cared.
But now, it was just another puzzle piece clicking into place. Another thing he had overlooked.
He glanced toward the kitchen, where Chloe was scrolling on her phone, completely detached from their evening routine.
For the first time, he saw her not as his wife, but as a stranger.
He masked his thoughts, keeping his voice light. "Sounds good. What did you get?"
She barely looked up. "The usual. Thai."
Lucas nodded, hiding the bitterness creeping into his chest. The usual. Routine. Predictable. Just like everything he had been to her.
But things weren't routine anymore.
Not for him.
He turned back to Emily, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You're doing amazing, sweetheart."
She beamed up at him, oblivious to the quiet war her father was preparing to fight.
Dinner was quiet—at least on one side of the table.
Lucas and Emily ate together, talking about their day and making plans for the next one. Emily, as always, had a million things to say.
"Daddy, can we go to the park after school tomorrow?" she asked between bites of rice.
Lucas smiled. "Of course, munchkin. Maybe we can bring a kite if it's windy."
Her eyes lit up. "Ooooh, yes! I want a pink one with sparkles!"
"We'll see what we can find," he chuckled.
Across from them, Chloe sat with her plate, scrolling through her phone. She barely looked up, barely engaged. Now that Lucas was paying attention, it was glaringly obvious—she wasn't just distracted tonight. This was how she always was.
The occasional forced smile, the minimal effort, the way she never truly joined in on these family moments.
How had he missed it for so long?
Chloe finally spoke, but it wasn't to them. "Ugh, the delivery guy forgot the extra sauce," she muttered, still staring at her screen.
Lucas just hummed in response, watching her carefully. She didn't notice. Or maybe she didn't care.
Emily, oblivious to the tension in her father's mind, happily kept the conversation going. "Daddy, can we have pancakes for breakfast?"
Lucas glanced at Chloe, waiting to see if she'd say anything—offer to make them, joke about his cooking, anything.
Nothing.
Just more scrolling.
Lucas smiled at Emily. "Pancakes sound perfect."
He kept his tone even, his face neutral, but his mind was sharper than ever. Every little detail. Every behavior. Every choice.
He wasn't just noticing anymore.
He was analyzing.
And Chloe had no idea.
Lucas tucked Emily into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin as she hugged her stuffed bunny.
"Daddy," she mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes. "Don't forget about the pancakes."
He chuckled, brushing a hand over her hair. "I'd never forget, sweetheart. Sweet dreams."
She yawned, giving him a tiny, drowsy smile before her eyes fluttered shut. Lucas stayed for a moment, watching her peaceful face. This was the only thing that mattered. Whatever happened next—whatever he had to do—it was for her.
He stood up, switched off the light, and quietly stepped out, closing the door behind him.
When he got to the bedroom, Chloe was already lying in bed, scrolling through her phone—just as she had been at dinner. She barely looked up when she spoke.
"I have a business trip this weekend," she said casually. "Leaving Friday."
Lucas, already pulling back the covers on his side of the bed, nodded as if it was just another normal conversation. "Alright."
No hesitation. No questioning. Just agreement—just like always.
He didn't need to ask why she was only mentioning it now. This was how she worked. She told, she never asked. And he had always gone along with it.
But this time, he wasn't just agreeing.
This time, her words sealed the timeline.
Tomorrow was Monday. That meant five days. More than enough time for Code Black to run its course. The PI would have gathered enough evidence, the financial forensic team would have pulled the records, and Lucas would have everything he needed to take action.
Chloe had no idea that this weekend trip—the one she thought she had planned so perfectly—was actually the beginning of her downfall.
Lucas slid into bed beside her, his face calm, his heart steady. He had played the fool for years.
But by Friday?
The game would be his.
Lucas woke up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. He stretched, letting out a slow breath before glancing at the time.
7:45 AM.
Perfect.
Chloe had already left for work—she always left early on Mondays. That meant she'd have to fend for herself for breakfast.
For the first time in years, he hadn't woken up early to make coffee, hadn't prepared anything for her to grab on the way out. It was a small thing. A meaningless act in the grand scheme of things. But it was also the first deliberate absence of care he had ever shown her.
And she hadn't even noticed.
Smirking to himself, he rolled out of bed and headed to the kitchen.
Emily sat at the table, still in her pajamas, swinging her legs as she colored. When she saw him, she lit up. "Pancakes?"
Lucas grinned. "Pancakes."
He made them just the way she liked—golden brown, with little chocolate chips hidden inside. They sat together at the table, Emily chatting away about her dreams from the night before while Lucas listened, enjoying the moment.
For her, today was just another Monday.
For him, today was the first day of the end.
Once breakfast was done, he helped her get ready, packed up her school bag, and dropped her off. The goodbye was the same as always—hugs, kisses, promises to pick her up later.
Then, finally, he headed to work.
On the surface, it was just another normal morning. But under it all, the gears were already turning. By the end of the day, he expected an update from the PI.
And when that happened, the real moves would begin.
Lucas pulled into a quiet parking lot and took out his phone. Instead of heading to the office, he dialed HR.
"Hey, this is Lucas Hunt," he said when the line connected. "I'm taking a personal day today."
There was a brief pause, then a surprised but pleasant reply. "Of course, Mr. Hunt. You have plenty of leave available—you could take months off if you wanted."
He let out a short chuckle. "Yeah, I figured."
"Enjoy your day off. Let us know if you need any extensions."
He ended the call, staring at the phone for a moment.
He could disappear from work for two months on full pay. Three more on half pay. And yet, he had barely taken any time off in years. He had dedicated himself to his work and family, to building stability, to providing a life for his family.
And for what?
For a wife who only saw him as a paycheck?
His jaw tightened as he slipped the phone into his pocket. Today wasn't about work. Today was about gathering every piece of the puzzle.
He started the car and drove to a quiet café across town, one he knew wasn't frequented by anyone he or Chloe knew. He ordered a coffee, picked a secluded booth, and pulled out his laptop.
It was time to check in on Code Black.
He sent a quick, coded message to James. Status?
A minute later, his phone vibrated. A single reply.
Forensics has updates. Call when ready.
Lucas exhaled, gripping his coffee cup.
It was time.
He picked up his phone and dialed.
Lucas opened his secure email—a private account known only to the four of them. It was an old system, built back in college, encrypted beyond anything a normal person would bother with. No personal names, no direct references. Just coded messages that only they could understand.
A new email sat at the top of the inbox.
Subject: CB.1 - Preliminary Findings
From: [Anonymous]
Lucas clicked it open, his eyes scanning the message.
CB.1 - Preliminary Report
Initial forensic review complete.Financial irregularities detected.Significant transfers made over the past 3 years to external account(s).Accounts linked to personal expenditures not associated with shared finances.High-volume withdrawals in cash, purpose unclear.Additional records requested to determine full scope.
Recommendation: Continue deeper analysis. Additional PI data required for cross-verification.
Next Update: Expected within 48 hours.
Three years.
For three years, money had been flowing out. Not for bills. Not for their daughter. Not for anything shared.
It was going somewhere else.
The cash withdrawals were the biggest red flag. If she was just hoarding money, that was one thing. But if she was spending it, or worse—giving it to someone else…
Lucas clenched his jaw.
This wasn't just neglect. This wasn't just her coasting through life off his income.
This was intentional.
He closed the laptop, exhaling slowly. The PI's report would fill in the rest. He just had to wait.
But when that next update came…
Chloe's world was going to collapse.
Lucas knew he had to wait. The PI needed time to track Chloe's movements, cross-reference financial transactions, and confirm exactly what she had been doing behind his back.
Wednesday. That's when the full report would be ready.
Three days.
He could be patient. He had already spent years blind to what was happening—three more days were nothing.
But that didn't mean he would sit still.
He finished his coffee, his mind already working through his next steps. If Chloe had been siphoning money for three years, that meant she had patterns. Habits. Places she went, people she saw.
And while the PI followed her in the background, Lucas could start looking on his own.
Step one: Check her digital footprint.
Lucas had never been the paranoid type, but he was a software developer—it wasn't hard to keep an eye on things when needed. Chloe wasn't particularly tech-savvy, and he had access to most of their shared accounts. He could start small.
Her ride history. Bank statements she thought he never checked. Her calendar.
Anything that could tell him where she was going and who she was meeting.
Step two: Observe.
For years, he had trusted her blindly. He hadn't noticed the way she left early without saying much, the way she spent hours on her phone. Now? He'd watch. Every movement, every call, every excuse.
The next three days would be his own test.
Because by Wednesday, when the PI handed over the final report—Lucas wanted to be ready to act.
And Chloe?
She wouldn't see it coming.
Lucas smirked to himself as he sat back in his chair. Right now, at this very moment, his house was being wired with surveillance equipment.
Tiny microphones hidden in lamps, under tables, inside vents. Cameras positioned carefully—nothing obvious, nothing that would make Chloe suspicious. Every call, every conversation, every little thing she did inside his house would be recorded.
He had given the PI full access, and the best part? It was all perfectly legal.
The phone she carried? His name was on the purchase receipt. The SIM card she used? Part of his family plan. That meant full access—texts, calls, apps, browsing history. Even deleted messages wouldn't be safe.
By the end of the day, her phone would be compromised. And Chloe?
She would have no idea.
His mind running through everything that would be unfolding over the next few hours. By the time she walked through the front door tonight, her world would already be under surveillance.
Now, all he had to do was sit back and let the system work.
But in the meantime…
He had a few things to check on his own.
Lucas walked into the bank with a calm, collected demeanor. The staff recognized him immediately, greeting him with the same polite professionalism they always did.
"I'd like to access my safety deposit box," he said, handing over the required identification.
A few minutes later, he was led into the secure vault area. The moment the heavy metal door closed behind him, he let out a slow breath and opened the box.
Inside, neatly stacked, were the stock certificates and bonds—untouched. That was his first surprise. If Chloe had been scheming for three years, why hadn't she gone after these?
Then his eyes landed on the velvet case.
His grandmother's diamond necklace set.
Lucas let out a short chuckle. She forgot about this.
It was clear Chloe hadn't even remembered it existed. If she had, it would have been long gone, pawned off or "lost" with some fake excuse.
Without hesitation, he gathered everything. He had the stock and bond certificates copied—keeping the originals and leaving the fakes in their place. It would buy him time if Chloe ever suddenly decided to take an interest in their assets.
Then, he took the necklace straight to a jeweler.
"I need an imitation made," he said, handing over the case. "Cheap, but close enough to pass at a glance."
The jeweler examined the diamonds carefully before nodding. "Forty bucks, and I'll have it done in a couple of hours."
Lucas smirked. "Perfect."
If Chloe ever thought about stealing it in the future, she'd get nothing but glass and metal.
Lucas was tying up every loose end, securing every piece of his life that she could possibly try to exploit.
Lucas didn't waste any time. With the real necklace and original stock certificates in hand, he drove straight to another bank—one where only his name was on the account.
The process was smooth. Unlike the joint deposit box, this one was completely private. No one—not even Chloe—could access it.
Once everything was secured inside, he left the bank feeling lighter. One more vulnerability locked away.
As he walked back to his car, he pulled out his phone and dialed his stockbroker.
"Good morning, Mr. Hunt," the broker greeted him. "What can I do for you?"
"I need all joint stocks moved into single stocks under my name," Lucas said. "If any stocks were originally paid for by Chloe, split them before transferring."
There was a brief pause before the broker replied, "Understood. It'll take a couple of days to process everything, but I'll get started right away. Should I send the updated portfolio to your personal email?"
"Yeah. And flag any unusual transactions for me."
"Will do."
Lucas ended the call and smirked.
With this, Chloe was losing her grip on their investments. She'd have no idea anything had changed—until it was too late.
Now, all that was left was to wait for Wednesday's report.
But until then?
He still had time to dig.
Lucas checked his watch. It was just past noon. In the span of a few hours, he had secured $120,000 that Chloe wouldn't be able to touch.
Not bad for a "day off."
Back at the café, he ordered lunch—nothing extravagant, just a simple meal to keep himself grounded. He needed to stay calm, stay focused. There was still more to uncover, but for now, the financial side was secure.
As he ate, he thought about what Chloe had done with all the money she had siphoned away. The report had confirmed significant cash withdrawals—how much was it?where had it gone? Was she spending it, or was she giving it to someone?
Lucas exhaled. The PI would find out soon enough.
Once he finished his meal, he headed back to the bank and placed the fake necklace inside the joint safety deposit box. If Chloe ever decided to suddenly remember its existence and try to take it, she'd be in for a rude awakening.
With that final task done, he drove home.
By his calculations, the PI's team should have completed the surveillance setup by now. Every room in the house—except for Emily's—was wired for sound. Strategic cameras were placed where they wouldn't be found easily.
As he pulled into the driveway, he let out a slow breath. From this point on, everything Chloe did in that house would be recorded. Every phone call, every text, every secret conversation.
She just didn't know it yet.
Lucas stepped out of the car, ready to play the role of the same devoted husband he had always been.
But this time?
He was watching everything.
The next two days passed as if nothing had changed. On the surface, Lucas played his role perfectly—calm, collected, the same devoted husband and father he had always been. But inside?
Inside, he was battling a storm.
MONDAY EVENING
When Chloe came home that evening, she greeted him with the same half-hearted peck on the cheek and immediately went to their bedroom, barely sparing Emily or him a second glance.
Lucas felt the first real wave of anger rising in his chest.
How did I not see it before?
Now that he was paying attention, it was painfully obvious. The lack of affection. The way she barely engaged with him or Emily. The complete absence of genuine warmth.
For years, he had assumed it was just how relationships evolved over time—that love turned into routine. But now?
Now, he knew better.
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. Stay in control. He had been cheated on before. He had been lied to before. And each time, his emotions had gotten the better of him.
Not this time.
This time, he had a plan.
Instead of confronting her, he focused on Emily.
At dinner, Emily happily talked about her day while Chloe scrolled through her phone, barely contributing to the conversation. Lucas didn't react. He kept his voice light, engaging with his daughter as if nothing was wrong.
If Chloe noticed his sharper attention to detail, she didn't show it.
That night, as they got into bed, she mentioned her "weekend business trip" again. Lucas only nodded.
"Have a safe trip," he said. "Let me know if you need anything."
And just like that, she dismissed him with a hum and went back to checking her notifications.
Lucas turned over, staring at the ceiling, his heart pounding with frustration.
She had no idea he was already six steps ahead of her.
TUESDAY – THE ART OF ACTING NORMAL
The following morning, Lucas made pancakes for Emily again. Just as he had done on Monday, he "accidentally" overslept, giving himself just enough time to cook for Emily—but not for Chloe.
She made no comment about it.
When he dropped Emily off at preschool, he took an extra moment to hug her tight. She giggled, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.
"Love you, Daddy!"
That was what mattered.
Not the woman who had been lying to him. Not the betrayal lurking beneath his own roof.
By the time he got to work, he threw himself into coding, letting the familiar rhythm of algorithms and logic soothe his mind.
Every time his frustration started to surface, he reminded himself:
The PI was tracking Chloe'sThe financial forensics team was still digging.Her phone was being monitored.By tomorrow—Wednesday—he'd have every answer he needed.
All he had to do was wait.
That night at dinner, Chloe barely touched her food, still glued to her phone. Lucas knew that she was comfortable—too comfortable.
She thought she was untouchable.
Lucas smiled at Emily, keeping his voice light. "How about we go to the park tomorrow after school?"
Emily grinned. "Yes! And can we get ice cream again?"
"Of course," he said, ruffling her hair.
As he spoke, his eyes flicked to Chloe. Her lips curled into that same smirk, the one he had once mistaken for a genuine smile.
But now? Now he saw her for what she truly was.
A liar. A user.
And by tomorrow?
She'd start to realize her world was crumbling.
TUESDAY NIGHT – A SMALL SLIP
Lucas kept to his usual routine. He tucked Emily into bed, read her a short bedtime story, and kissed her forehead before turning off the light. Then, he headed to the master bedroom, where Chloe was already in bed, lying on her side with her phone in hand.
Nothing unusual there.
He entered the en suite bathroom, splashing cold water on his face as he steadied himself. One more night. Just one more night before he got the PI's full report.
When he stepped back into the bedroom, he saw Chloe shifting slightly—her phone still in hand, the screen dimmed.
Then, she did something she had never done before.
She locked her phone and quickly slipped it under her pillow.
Lucas froze for half a second.
It was subtle, almost unnoticeable. But he noticed.
For years, Chloe had been careless with her phone. Leaving it on the nightstand, tossing it on the couch, forgetting it in the kitchen. She never hid it.
But tonight?
Tonight, she didn't just put it down—she hid it.
Lucas kept his expression neutral as he climbed into bed. "Long day?"
"Yeah," she said lazily, turning away from him. "Work stuff."
She was lying.
She wasn't scrolling through work emails. She wasn't reading an article. She was doing something she didn't want him to see.
And she thought she was being clever.
Lucas turned off the bedside lamp, forcing himself to breathe evenly. He let the silence stretch.
Minutes passed.
Then—vibration.
A message.
Lucas didn't move, pretending to be asleep. He kept his breathing slow and steady.
A few seconds later, Chloe slowly slid her phone out from under her pillow.
There was no sound—she must have set it to silent. The faint glow of the screen barely lit her face, but Lucas could tell she was reading something intently.
Another message came in.
Lucas almost smirked. Gotcha.
After a moment, Chloe carefully placed the phone back under her pillow, shifting as if trying to get comfortable. But he could tell—her breathing was slightly off.
She was anxious.
Lucas kept up the act, but his mind was racing.
Tomorrow, when the PI's report arrived, he'd find out exactly who she was texting at night, what she was hiding, and just how deep her betrayal ran.
And when he did?
She wouldn't see him coming.
WEDNESDAY MORNING – THE FIRST TEST
Lucas woke up just in time. He had set his alarm for a little later than usual—not late enough to miss taking care of Emily, but just enough to avoid making breakfast for Chloe.
When he stepped into the kitchen, he was met with an unusual sight.
Chloe had cooked for herself.
For the past seven years, she had never bothered. If he didn't make breakfast, she'd either grab something light or order in. But today?
Today, she had scrambled eggs and toast on her plate, a fresh cup of coffee beside it.
Lucas didn't say anything at first. He walked over to Emily, who was already seated at the table, munching on a pancake from the leftover batter he had made yesterday.
"Morning, sweetheart," he said, ruffling her hair.
"Morning, Daddy!" Emily beamed.
He kissed her forehead before turning to Chloe. "You made breakfast today?"
Chloe barely looked up. "Yeah. I was starving."
Her tone was casual, but Lucas caught the slight tightness in it.
He grabbed a coffee mug and poured himself a cup, sitting across from her. "Smells good. You should cook more often."
She finally looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Maybe."
Maybe?
Lucas fought the urge to smirk. She's nervous.
He decided to push a little further. "Did you sleep well?"
Chloe hesitated for half a second before nodding. "Yeah. Why?"
"Just wondering. You seemed restless last night."
She blinked, her grip tightening around her coffee mug. There it is.
Lucas sipped his coffee slowly, watching her. She didn't respond, instead looking down at her phone—which was locked, face-down, and never leaving her side.
Another unusual change.
So, you're being extra careful now. Good to know.
Chloe finished her breakfast quickly and got up. "I need to head out early today," she said, placing her plate in the sink. "Lots to do before the weekend trip."
Lucas only nodded. "Of course. Have a good day."
She lingered for a fraction of a second, as if expecting a different response. When she got nothing, she grabbed her bag and left without another word.
As soon as the front door shut, Lucas exhaled and leaned back in his chair.
She was slipping.
First, she hid her phone. Now, she was changing her routine.
She was preparing for something.
And by the end of the day, he'd find out exactly what.
Lucas sat in the dimly lit corner of the café, the low hum of morning conversations blending with the sound of steaming milk and clinking cups. The scent of roasted coffee beans filled the air, but he barely noticed. His eyes were locked on his laptop screen, his fingers drumming lightly against the table as he checked the time. 8:59 AM. He took a slow sip of his coffee, his stomach already twisting with anticipation. Then, at exactly 9:00 AM, two emails landed in his inbox. One from the PI. One from the forensic accountant.
He exhaled, clicked on the first report, and froze.
The details unfolded like a carefully crafted horror story, each revelation worse than the last. Chloe had funneled nearly $600,000 into three different offshore accounts. His money, meticulously siphoned away over the years into hidden places he hadn't even known to look. She had a lover—a younger, well-dressed man from her office whose entire lifestyle she was bankrolling. Expensive watches, high-end suits, exotic vacations—all funded from Lucas's hard-earned salary. She had a secret condo, bought with his money, in her name alone. A place he had never stepped foot in, never even knew existed.
Then came the details of her spending habits. Weekly spa trips. Luxury shopping sprees. Lingerie, designer dresses, and jewelry—things she had never once worn for him. Because they weren't for him. They were for someone else. The photographic evidence was worse. Images of her and her lover in various locations—the office, a hotel, the secret condo. And then, the final, gut-wrenching piece of proof: their last tryst had been just yesterday, while Lucas had been home, taking care of their daughter.
His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, but he forced himself to keep reading. The text messages sealed her fate. Last night, while they had been lying in bed together, her phone had been vibrating with messages from him. Chloe had been worried—not about getting caught by Lucas, but by her lover's wife.
C: She's catching on. You need to be more careful.
AP: She's paranoid. I'll handle her.
C: We can't afford any issues. I'm already making plans for the weekend.
Lucas shut his laptop slowly, his movements eerily controlled. She had been planning to leave him at home with Emily, thinking she had him wrapped around her finger, while she went away with another man. She had spent years draining him, lying to his face, using him like a walking ATM. And she thought she was getting away with it.
His pulse was steady, but there was a sharp, icy rage curling through his veins. He needed air.
Lucas stood, grabbed his coat, and walked out of the café. His feet carried him down the street with purpose, his mind a calculated storm of thoughts. He didn't hesitate when he found a payphone. His fingers dialed the only number that mattered now.
The line clicked. No greeting. No questions.
Lucas took a deep breath, his voice like steel.
"Code Red.No mercy."
The call ended.
The game was over. Now, it was time for war.
The next two days passed in a tense, simmering silence, with Lucas forcing himself to maintain his usual demeanor while the rage boiled just beneath the surface. Every interaction with Chloe felt like walking on a tightrope over a pit of fire, and he knew she was beginning to sense the shift.
She noticed the small things first—how he no longer made her coffee in the morning, how he didn't kiss her goodbye before heading out, how he was suddenly "too tired" to ask about her day. But what really set her off was breakfast.
On Thursday morning, as he finished flipping pancakes for Emily, Chloe strolled into the kitchen, hair still damp from her shower. She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him. Lucas could feel her gaze on his back.
"You're really not gonna make me breakfast?" she finally asked, her voice laced with irritation.
Lucas calmly plated Emily's pancakes and handed them to her before turning to Chloe. "I didn't know you wanted me to," he said evenly, keeping his tone neutral.
Chloe scoffed. "Really? Seven years, Lucas. Seven years of you making breakfast, and now, all of a sudden, I have to ask?"
He took a slow sip of his coffee, carefully setting the mug down before answering. "You never seemed to care before," he said, watching her reaction. "You never really ate much, and when you did, it was takeout or whatever I made. I figured you were fine handling it yourself."
Her expression flickered for a moment—an instant of something calculated, before she forced a small, fake laugh. "I just think it's weird, that's all."
Lucas held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then shrugged. "Guess I've been busy."
That should have been the end of it, but Chloe didn't let it go. The irritation in her voice sharpened. "Busy with what? Work? You took a personal day this week, didn't you?"
Lucas raised an eyebrow, amused by her sudden interest in his schedule. "Since when do you keep track of my time off?"
Chloe opened her mouth, then shut it, the tension crackling between them. He could see the suspicion creeping into her eyes, the way she was trying to piece together what had changed. She was testing him now, just like he had been testing her.
Finally, she huffed. "Forget it," she muttered, grabbing an apple from the counter and stalking off.
Lucas let out a slow exhale once she was gone.
She knows something is off. She just doesn't know what.
Good.
Let her wonder. Let her squirm.
Tomorrow was Friday.
Tomorrow, she'd be leaving for her "business trip."
And by the time she returned, her world would be crumbling around her.
Friday's morning air was crisp as Chloe grabbed her bags and walked out the front door, still grumbling under her breath about breakfast. Lucas stood by the door, watching her with an unreadable expression as she slid into her car. She didn't even spare him a glance as she backed out of the driveway, completely oblivious to the fact that she was carrying his parting gift.
Lucas had made sure to be thorough.
The night before, while she was in the shower, he had unzipped her luggage and found the lingerie and designer outfits she had bought for another man—silk, lace, and barely-there fabric meant to impress someone that wasn't him. He had taken his time, methodically rubbing chili sauce and rash powder into every single one of them. Every seam, every lining, but especially the areas where they would touch her most sensitive parts. Her dresses, the ones meant to seduce, were treated the same way. For her AP's clothes, he had been a little more merciful—just rash powder. Let him enjoy the slow, creeping burn.
By the time she realized what was happening, she would be too far away to do anything about it.
And that was just the beginning.
As soon as Lucas dropped off Emily at school, he made his next move. His parents would be picking Emily up and keeping her for the weekend, just as he had planned. Now, it was time to clear the house of Chloe's existence.
The locksmith arrived promptly at 10 AM. The house had been his before the marriage, and it would remain his long after Chloe was gone. The locks were changed within the hour—every door, every keyhole, leaving her completely locked out.
Then came the packing.
Every single thing that belonged to Chloe—her clothes, her makeup, her jewelry, her expensive spa products—was neatly packed into cardboard boxes. He left nothing behind. No trace of her in their bedroom. No trace of her in their home.
Once the packing was done, Lucas had the movers relocate everything into the garage. He stepped back, surveying his work, then turned and locked the only door that connected the house to the garage.
When Chloe came back, she would have access to only one part of the house—
the part that no longer belonged to her.
Lucas exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
The house already felt lighter.
Now, all that was left to do was wait for the inevitable storm.
Lucas didn't rush to the hotel. Instead, he stopped by a nearby café, ordered a black coffee, and settled into a corner booth. He stirred his coffee absentmindedly, glancing at the time.
11:43 AM.
By now, Chloe and her boy toy would have checked in, probably feeling smug and victorious, thinking the weekend would be filled with indulgence, luxury, and stolen passion. Lucas smirked to himself.
He wasn't in a hurry—he wanted them to settle in.
He took his time finishing his coffee before heading to his car. The PI's text had come in exactly as expected.
Grand Luxe Hotel. Room 807. Arrived 30 minutes ago.
Lucas drove over at a steady, casual pace, pulling into the parking lot of a building far too extravagant for Chloe's salary alone.
It was a five-star hotel, known for its rooftop views, private jacuzzis, and premium champagne service. Chloe had chosen this place for her illicit rendezvous? With his money?
Lucas clenched his jaw but quickly loosened it. Patience.
He parked a short distance away, where the PI was waiting. Sliding into the passenger seat, Lucas accepted the tablet without a word.
The show was about to begin.
THE LOVEBIRDS' AFTERNOON
Chloe and her AP hadn't jumped into bed immediately.
The PI had managed to get a good angle from a hidden camera in the hotel room. They had arrived, tossed their bags aside, and helped themselves to room service and champagne—a celebration, no doubt.
Lucas watched as Chloe laughed and flirted, sipping from her glass, her eyes shining. A smile that had never quite reached her eyes when she was with him.
Her AP, a broad-shouldered, cocky-looking man in his late 30s, leaned in, murmuring something that made Chloe giggle. They clinked glasses.
Lucas exhaled. They were comfortable. Relaxed.
They sat on the couch, watching TV, scrolling through their phones, and occasionally kissing lazily. Chloe even unwrapped a gift—a small velvet box. Inside was an elegant diamond bracelet.
Lucas didn't have to wonder whose money paid for it.
Hours passed like this. No rush to undress, no urgency. They basked in their stolen moment, indulging in luxury.
Then, around 4 PM, Chloe finally made her move.
She got up, stretched, and sauntered into the bathroom with her suitcase.
Lucas leaned forward slightly. Showtime.
THE SLOW BURN
Ten minutes later, Chloe emerged in full seduction mode.
She wore the deep-red lace lingerie she had packed, the one Lucas had carefully doctored. It hugged her body perfectly, her hair loose around her shoulders, her makeup soft and inviting.
Her AP was already lounging in bed, shirtless, waiting for her. His grin widened as she approached, climbing onto the bed.
Lucas watched as they began to kiss—slow, teasing, drawn-out.
And then, it started.
At first, just a mild discomfort. Chloe shifted slightly, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off a stray itch. She kissed him again but squirmed a little, her movements less fluid.
A few more minutes passed.
She reached up to touch his face, but paused, rubbing her forearm instead. Her fingers curled slightly, as if resisting the urge to scratch.
Her AP, completely unaware, ran his hands down her sides, making her arch slightly—not in pleasure, but discomfort.
She shifted again. Then again.
Lucas could tell she was trying to ignore it, trying to push past the sudden irritation creeping over her skin.
But the burn was spreading.
Her movements became less sensual and more restless. Her breathing hitched, her fingers curling into the sheets.
The AP frowned slightly. "You okay?"
Chloe forced a smile, but her face was tense. "Y-yeah, just… hold on a second."
She sat up, pressing her thighs together, shifting again—but the friction only made it worse.
The irritation was no longer subtle.
She winced.
Then, finally, she scratched.
Lucas watched as her composure began to crack. She scratched once, twice, trying to be discreet, but the sensation was getting worse, not better.
Her AP raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know," she muttered, shifting her weight. "I feel—itchy."
"Allergic reaction?" he guessed.
Chloe shook her head. She had worn this kind of lace lingerie before. It had never caused a problem.
She tried to push forward, kissing him again, but now he was shifting, too.
Lucas smirked. And now the powder had got on his clothes too.
Chloe suddenly jerked away with a sharp inhale. Her hands clawed at her stomach, her thighs, her hips.
Her AP sat up, rubbing his chest, his expression shifting from confusion to irritation. "What the hell is this?"
Lucas sipped his coffee. It's only just begun.
Chloe practically jumped out of bed, tearing at her lingerie straps. "It's burning! Oh my God—what the hell!?"
Her AP was already scratching furiously at his arms, his shoulders, his legs. His frustration boiled over.
"What the fuck is going on!?"
"I don't know!" Chloe hissed, yanking off the lingerie completely, red marks already forming on her skin.
Lucas laughed under his breath.
Her AP wasn't helping. He was livid, scratching at his arms, glaring at her as if she had done this on purpose.
"What the fuck did you put on your clothes!?"
"Nothing!" Chloe snapped, her face twisted in a mix of pain and panic.
Her hands shook as she dug through her bag,
Lucas watched as she stood there, wrapped in nothing but a towel, frantic, helpless.
Chloe paced the hotel room, wrapped in a plush bathrobe, her face still flushed from the irritation. Her skin tingled uncomfortably
She glanced at her AP, who sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his forearms. He looked just as confused and annoyed as she felt.
"That was weird," she murmured, running a hand over her thigh. It still felt sensitive, almost raw, but she convinced herself it was nothing. Maybe an allergic reaction to the lingerie? It had to be.
Her AP exhaled sharply. "I don't know what the hell that was, but let's forget it. We have dinner reservations at Le Jardin. I didn't spend three grand on this night just to sit here and scratch myself."
Chloe forced a smile and nodded. She wasn't about to let some random rash ruin her night.
A FEW HOURS LATER – DRESSED TO IMPRESS
After resting for a couple of hours, Chloe finally slipped into her evening gown—a stunning deep emerald dress that hugged her curves perfectly.
Her AP straightened his blazer, giving her an appreciative once-over. "Now that's more like it," he said, brushing a hand over her hip.
She smirked, running her fingers down his chest. Whatever had happened earlier was in the past.
Lucas, watching from the PI's tablet, chuckled under his breath. Not for long.
They left the room hand-in-hand, ready for an evening of fine dining, wine, and whispered promises.
35 MINUTES LATER – A DISASTER UNFOLDS
The restaurant was high-end, dimly lit with soft music and candlelit tables. Chloe and her AP sat near a window, enjoying their wine, their conversation filled with stolen glances and light laughter.
Then, it began again.
At first, just a slight shift in their seats. A small, unnoticeable discomfort.
Chloe's smile faltered slightly as she adjusted the straps of her dress.
Her AP cleared his throat, rubbing his neck before taking another sip of wine.
Minutes passed.
Chloe pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to scratch. The fabric of her expensive dress felt wrong against her skin—too rough, too tight.
Her AP exhaled sharply, shifting again. His fingers tapped against his thigh restlessly, his jaw tightening.
Lucas watched as it escalated.
Chloe's fingers twitched. She couldn't ignore it anymore.
She reached under the table, discreetly rubbing at her arm. But it wasn't just her arms—it was her back, her legs, her entire body.
Her AP clenched his fists. His collar suddenly felt suffocating.
Within minutes, both of them were practically squirming in their seats.
Chloe's breathing hitched, her hand tightening around her wine glass. She shifted again, rubbing her thighs together.
Her AP bit back a curse, dragging a hand down his face.
And then, it became unbearable.
Chloe couldn't take it anymore.
She shoved her chair back, nearly knocking it over.
"We need to go," she hissed, eyes wide with desperation.
Her AP was already on his feet. "Fuck, yes."
They rushed out, barely managing to leave a tip, nearly tripping over themselves in their haste to escape.
BACK AT THE HOTEL – A SCENE OF PANIC
Lucas and the PI didn't even have to follow them inside.
Through the security feed, Lucas had a front-row seat to the chaos.
The door slammed open.
Chloe and her AP practically tore at their clothes, frantically trying to relieve the burning sensation.
Her AP yanked off his blazer, cursing loudly. Chloe struggled with her zipper, frustrated tears forming in her eyes.
She screamed.
Lucas could only imagine the firestorm of agony she was experiencing.
She ripped the dress off, her skin angry and red beneath the dim hotel lighting.
Her AP wasn't faring any better. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned before he just tore it apart, stumbling toward the bathroom.
The PI let out a low chuckle. "You're ruthless, man."
Lucas didn't respond.
He was too busy watching Chloe claw at her arms, her expression a mixture of pain, rage, and complete confusion.
She had no idea what was happening.
And that was the best part.
The second Chloe had stumbled back into the hotel room, she was already clawing at her own skin. The burning sensation had grown tenfold, spreading like wildfire across every inch of her body.
"F-Fuck!" she gasped, her nails raking against her stomach, her chest, her thighs—anywhere she could reach.
Her AP wasn't faring any better. He was frantically unbuttoning his dress shirt, his breath coming out in ragged pants. "Shit—what the hell is this?!" His voice was panicked, the smooth confidence he always carried completely gone.
Chloe could barely focus. The itch had become unbearable. Every fabric felt like sandpaper against her skin. She reached behind herself, desperately struggling with the zipper of her expensive emerald dress.
Her hands were shaking too much.
Her AP growled in frustration, ripping his blazer off, then his dress shirt, tossing them onto the floor as if they were laced with acid. His arms were red and blotchy, nails digging into his biceps, his entire body screaming for relief.
"Help me—help me get this off!" Chloe practically shrieked, turning her back to him.
The AP, just as desperate, reached out with trembling hands, yanking the zipper down so roughly it nearly tore the fabric. The moment the dress was loose, Chloe ripped it off herself, her breath coming in sharp gasps as the cool air hit her exposed skin.
But it didn't help.
Nothing helped.
The rash was everywhere. Across her stomach, her thighs, the undersides of her breasts—it felt like her skin was on fire.
She stumbled backward, knocking into the nightstand. The lamp wobbled dangerously before crashing to the floor.
"What the hell is happening?!" her AP barked, now shirtless and furiously rubbing at his chest. He reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle before he just yanked his pants off entirely, standing there in nothing but his boxers.
Chloe wasn't listening.
Her hands moved to her panties, ripping them down her legs with so much force the waistband nearly snapped.
Even that wasn't enough.
Her privates burned.
The itch was worse there. So much worse.
She shook violently, fingers twitching as she tried to resist the unbearable urge to keep scratching.
The AP ran to the bathroom, practically diving into the shower, twisting the knob all the way to cold before stepping under the icy stream fully clothed.
Chloe staggered after him, her breath ragged, her skin blotchy and inflamed. She stepped into the tub beside him, letting the freezing water cascade down her body.
"F-Fuck," she choked out, gripping the tiled wall for support. Her body was ruined. She looked down at her own arms, her skin an angry, irritated red, some parts already breaking into small, inflamed welts.
Her AP groaned beside her, leaning his forehead against the shower wall, his body still trembling from the lingering burn.
Chloe squeezed her eyes shut, her mind racing.
This wasn't normal.
This wasn't some random allergic reaction.
Something wasn't right.
But before she could think any further, another harsh wave of irritation spread through her legs, sending her back into a fresh round of clawing at her own skin.
Her moan of frustration was drowned out by the sound of the rushing water.