Camilla's POV
I quickly brushed away the tears and forced my face into something resembling a smile. Joy didn't need to see me falling apart.
"Just got something in my eye, sweetheart," I whispered, my voice barely steady.
She studied my face with those wise little eyes that seemed too old for her age, but she nodded anyway. Slowly, she made her way down the stairs, clutching her worn teddy bear against her chest.
Joy climbed onto the couch and pressed her small body against mine, her head finding its familiar spot on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling that sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo, fighting to keep the pieces of myself from completely crumbling.
"Is Daddy home yet?" she asked in that tiny voice that always made my heart ache.
The question hit me like a punch to the chest. I swallowed hard, tasting the bitter lie before I even spoke it. "Yes, baby. He's upstairs sleeping. He came in really late and didn't want to disturb you."
The truth was so much uglier. Tom hadn't even glanced toward her bedroom door. Hadn't asked about her day or whether she'd eaten dinner. Nothing.
Joy stayed quiet after that, her breathing gradually becoming deeper and more rhythmic. When her eyelids started fluttering closed, I carefully lifted her and carried her back to her room.
I tucked the blankets around her small frame and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I love you more than the whole world, little one."
Once I was sure she was asleep, I made my way to what used to be our bedroom. The master suite felt like a museum now - everything perfectly in place because no one actually lived there anymore.
The bed looked exactly as I'd made it that morning. Untouched. Tom had been sleeping in the guest room for weeks, claiming he needed space to think. Claiming his work stress was too much and he didn't want to keep me awake with his restless nights.
I sank down onto the edge of the mattress, staring at the hardwood floor until my vision blurred. The pressure in my chest felt unbearable, like someone was slowly crushing my ribs.
All the tears I'd held back for Joy's sake came flooding out in silent, devastating waves. I pulled my knees to my chest and let the sobs tear through me - the kind that leave you gasping, the kind that remind you just how utterly alone you can feel even in your own home.
I cried until the pillowcase was soaked through. Somewhere around dawn, exhaustion finally won and I fell into a restless sleep.
Sunlight was streaming through the curtains when I woke up. My head felt like it was filled with cotton, and my eyes were so swollen I could barely open them. I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand.
Nearly eleven in the morning.
I dragged myself downstairs, moving like I was underwater. The house felt hollow and quiet.
"Mrs. Camilla," Sienna's gentle voice called from the kitchen. "I got Joy ready and took her to school. You looked so tired, I thought it was best to let you rest."
"Thank you," I managed, my voice still rough from crying.
Sienna gave me a concerned smile and continued organizing the counter. I wandered into the living room where she was straightening up the coffee table, and that's when she paused.
"Oh," she said, holding up a small silver object. "This belongs to Mr. Tom."
I looked closer. His USB drive - the expensive one he kept attached to his keys. He was always paranoid about it, said it contained crucial business files that couldn't be lost.
Sienna frowned slightly. "He must have dropped it last night."
Her phone rang then, and she answered in rapid Spanish. After a brief conversation, she turned back to me. "That was Mr. Tom. He was looking for this USB. I told him we found it."
"What did he say?"
"He wants me to bring it to his office and leave it with reception." Her tone was carefully neutral, but I caught the slight hesitation.
The fact that he'd called Sienna instead of me wasn't surprising anymore. It still stung, but I'd learned to expect it.
"I'll take it," I said suddenly.
Sienna looked uncertain. "Are you sure, Mrs. Camilla?"
I nodded, taking the drive from her hands. "Yes. I need to get out of the house anyway."
She didn't argue, just gave me that worried look I'd been seeing more often lately. "Drive safely."
I went upstairs and put on jeans and a simple blouse - nothing special, just enough to look like I hadn't spent the night crying myself to sleep. My hands trembled slightly as I applied concealer under my eyes.
The drive to Tom's office building felt endless. My knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel, and my mind kept circling back to that photo from last night. The lipstick. The lies. The way he'd made me feel insane for questioning him.
When I walked into the sleek lobby and reached the executive floor, the receptionist's face went through several expressions - recognition, surprise, and something that looked almost like panic.
"Mrs. Collin," she said, her professional smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Mr. Collin is currently in an important meeting."
I tilted my head. "Is he now?"
"Yes, he specifically requested not to be disturbed. But I'd be happy to take a message and make sure he gets it when he's available."
There was something in her tone - a warning, maybe. Like she was trying to protect me from something I wasn't ready to see.
But I was past caring about warnings. I walked right past her desk and pushed open the door to Tom's office.
What I saw made the world tilt sideways.
Tom was sitting on the leather couch, completely relaxed, laughing at something. Next to him sat a woman with perfectly styled auburn hair and expensive clothes. She had her hand resting on his forearm like it was the most natural thing in the world.
They looked comfortable together. Intimate. Like this was far from their first private meeting.
When the woman noticed me in the doorway, her laughter died. Tom followed her gaze, and when he saw me, his expression shifted - not to guilt or embarrassment, but to mild annoyance, like I'd interrupted something inconvenient.
But it was her face that made my blood turn to ice.
Those green eyes. That perfectly symmetrical smile. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.
Delia Sinclair. Tom's college girlfriend. The one who'd had him wrapped around her finger for two years before she decided he wasn't worth her time anymore. The one who'd left him broken and desperate, begging her to come back.
I'd hoped I'd never see her again. Now here she was, sitting in my husband's office like she belonged there.
The USB drive felt like it might shatter in my clenched fist.