I supported my husband’s startup for 10 years, but when his company went public and threw a celebration banquet, he refused to bring me. Before leaving, he reassured me: “You stay home and take care of the kids. Once I’m done with all this, I’ll take you and the kids on a trip to Greece.” I sat there surrounded by LEGO pieces and picture books scattered across the floor, feeling hollow inside. My three-year-old daughter suddenly came running over, holding up a black phone: “Mommy! Daddy forgot his phone!” I froze. This wasn’t his usual phone. The moment I opened it, a text message popped up: “Honey, I picked out the perfect gown for the banquet. $30,000. Waiting for you to swipe the card~” The sender was saved as: “Baby Vivian.” My breath stopped. Blood rushed to my eardrums, buzzing loudly. My fingers moved across the screen without conscious thought. Either Matthew was too confident, or he trusted me too much. The phone had no password. I opened the chat with “Baby Vivian.” The earliest message was from three years ago, August: “Matthew, I revised the proposal and sent it to your email.” On his birthday, she sent him a photo of herself in lingerie. On Christmas, he arranged to meet her at a hot spring resort. Kelly was hugging her Barbie doll and humming, sunlight falling on her soft blonde hair in a gentle golden glow. My daughter. Three years old. And my husband’s mistress had been by his side for three years. I kept scrolling up. The last message from yesterday— “Honey, I think I’m pregnant.” “Really?! I’ll take you to get checked tomorrow. If it’s true, I’ll come clean with my wife.” My world completely collapsed in that moment. So he’d been planning the divorce all along? The door lock turned. Matthew pushed the door open, his eyes scanning the living room: “I left a black work phone at home. Have you seen it?” “Kelly found it.” I walked over and pulled out the phone. “How could you forget something so important?” He snatched it away, quickly pressed the screen dark, and stuffed it into his suit pocket. The whole process took less than three seconds. “Work’s been crazy. I was careless.” He cleared his throat. He paused, then ruffled my hair: “I might be home very late tonight. Get some rest early.” The door closed. I leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. The spires of the LEGO castle blurred and twisted in my vision.
A week later, I sat down next to him with the household budget book. “Kelly’s enrichment classes raised their fees.” I opened the book. “The joint account balance is running low. Is the company doing okay financially?” “The company’s fine.” He barely glanced at it. “The banquet budget was approved ages ago. If there’s not enough money, just use the credit card. I’ll deposit more next month.” “The banquet… it’s at the Imperial Hotel?” “Yeah, the Starlight Hall.” His eyes flickered. “How did you know?” “I saw the promotion when I passed by last time.” I lowered my eyes. “I heard it’s expensive.” “It’s the company’s tenth anniversary. We need to do it right.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “When I’m done with all this, I’ll take you and Kelly to Greece.” Another promise. “By the way,” I looked up, “Can I see the banquet schedule? I don’t even know what my own company’s event looks like.” After a few seconds of silence, he said: “Sure, I’ll send it to your phone.” A minute later, the digital schedule and seating chart arrived. “Just take a look. Don’t forward it to anyone.” “Got it.” He got up to shower. I opened my phone and found the woman’s name in the administrative department. I took screenshots, uploaded them to the cloud, and backed them up to an encrypted hard drive. Passing the study, the door was slightly ajar. His old laptop sat on the desk, the indicator light glowing. I pushed the door open. The computer had no password. The files were disorganized. I clicked on “Work Backup – 2021.” As I was exiting, my peripheral vision caught a strangely named folder: “V.” Double-clicked. It required a password. I tried his birthday, my birthday, the company founding date. All wrong. I entered “Vivian” in pinyin. The folder opened. Inside were photos of him and Vivian in intimate poses. I inserted a USB drive and copied all the photos. Just then, he appeared in the doorway, hair dripping, eyes scanning the computer: “What are you doing in the study?” I lied: “Looking for Kelly’s vaccination record. The kindergarten needs it tomorrow.” I waved the little blue booklet. “Your old computer was still on. Such a waste of electricity.” “I forgot to turn it off.” He walked over and pressed the power button. “Don’t touch my computer from now on. There’s confidential business information.” “Yes, sir, Mr. Hughes.” I smiled and playfully punched him, then walked out of the study. A few days later, I met with lawyer Quinn Reed to handle my divorce case. Afterwards, I went to a digital store on the west side. The owner, Derek Mason, was my college classmate. “Here’s what you wanted.” He handed me a black velvet box. Inside was a rose brooch and a lipstick. Both were hidden cameras. Derek’s expression was complicated. “Be careful.” I smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m not the one who needs to be careful.” That night, Matthew came home at 2 AM, reeking of alcohol. I helped him to bed, wiped his face, took off his shoes. In his daze, he grabbed my hand: “Vivian… stop teasing…” In the darkness, I opened my phone. Vivian’s social media had been updated. In the photo, she wore a Cartier bracelet, holding up a wine glass. I took Matthew’s phone and liked the post. A minute later, Vivian sent a private message: “Matthew? Why did you like it? Didn’t you say we shouldn’t go public yet?” I replied in Matthew’s tone: “Couldn’t help it. Missing you.” She sent a shy emoji: “I miss you too. I tried on the gown. It’s gorgeous. Will you announce our relationship at the banquet?” I continued: “Of course. Giving you the best.”
Three days before the banquet, I went to the Imperial Hotel under the pretense of checking out a wedding venue for a friend. The hall was being set up. “This setup is really impressive,” my friend marveled. “Which company is willing to spend this much?” “Right?” I said softly. A woman walked in through the side door. Champagne-colored high heels, beige suit dress, long hair loosely pinned up. She held a tablet, confirming details with the staff. It was Vivian. She was younger than in her photos, with flawless skin and upright posture. Meanwhile, I had loose skin and stretch marks on my belly after having Kelly, fine lines around my eyes, and dark circles I covered with concealer. So this was what he meant by “how could she compare to you.” “Brighten the lights by another 30%. Mr. Hughes said he wants every shot to be crystal clear that day.” Vivian’s voice was crisp. The staff nodded. “Don’t worry, Ms. Cross.” My friend whispered: “Who’s that? She’s got quite the presence.” I didn’t answer. Vivian turned around, her gaze sweeping over us. It paused for half a second, then her lips curved into a professional smile: “May I help you?” “We’re here to look at wedding venues.” My friend said. “You’re having… a banquet?” “Yes, our company’s tenth anniversary celebration.” Vivian walked over, her gaze lingering on my face for an extra moment. “And you are?” “Just call me Ms. Morgan.” “Ms. Morgan.” She nodded. “This venue is perfect for weddings, but we’ve booked it exclusively. If you need it, I can recommend other halls.” “No need, but thank you.” I smiled. “This venue is beautiful. Your husband really put thought into it.” Vivian’s smile stiffened slightly. Very subtly, but I caught it. “It’s Mr. Hughes who put thought into it.” She corrected, her tone gentle. “I’m just helping with execution.” “Mr. Hughes? Is he single? He booked such a large venue and set up double main seats. I thought it was prepared for his wife.” The air went quiet for a few seconds. Vivian looked at me, her eyes churning with curiosity, wariness, and perhaps a trace of barely detectable triumph. “I don’t know much about Mr. Hughes’s personal matters.” She looked away, speaking to the staff, “I’m going to confirm the menu. You all continue.” She turned and left, her heels clicking crisply. My friend tugged my sleeve: “Morgan, why were you asking those questions? That was weird.” “Just curious.” I withdrew my gaze. “Let’s go. Let’s check out the other halls.” We headed toward the elevator. Before the doors closed, I looked back. Vivian stood in the center of the stage, looking down at her tablet. Dome lights fell on her, enveloping her in an ethereal glow. She looked up, glancing toward the elevator. Our gazes met one last time through the closing gap. She smiled. It was a victor’s smile, full of pity. The elevator descended. “Do you know her?” my friend asked. “No.” I watched the numbers changing. “But I will soon.” That evening, Matthew came home early for once, looking irritated. “What’s wrong?” I served him soup. “Nothing.” He rubbed his temples. “Just a small issue at the company. It’ll be resolved soon.” “That’s good.” I pushed the soup bowl toward him. “By the way, I went to the Imperial Hotel today.” His movements paused. “What were you doing there?” “Helping Jade look at wedding venues.” My tone was natural. “I saw the Starlight Hall being set up. That’s your banquet, right?” “…Yeah.” “The double main seat design is really thoughtful.” I looked at him. “Was that your idea?” Matthew put down his spoon: “It was the event planning company’s proposal. Don’t overthink it.” “I’m not overthinking anything.” I smiled. “I just thought, if we ever renew our vows, we could reference this kind of design.” His expression softened a bit, and he held my hand: “Once the company goes public, I’ll definitely give you the grandest vow renewal ceremony.” Another promise. I held his hand back, palm warm, fingertips ice cold. “Oh, I was organizing the study yesterday and saw some photos on your old computer.” I said casually, “It looked like a team-building event? There was a girl who looked familiar. Is she the one who came to the house to deliver documents last time?” Matthew’s hand tightened: “Which girl?” “The one with long hair, big eyes, looks pretty capable.” I blinked. “I think her last name is Cross?” Silence. Long silence. He released my hand, his tone returning to gentle: “She’s from the administrative department. She is quite capable. Why the sudden interest in her?” “I just thought she was pretty.” I stood up to clear the dishes, turning my back to him. “I’m glad you have such capable employees. Puts my mind at ease.” He said nothing more. I carried the dishes into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. Water rushed, drowning out my rapid heartbeat. That night, Matthew slept deeply. I got up and retrieved the brooch camera from its hidden compartment, pinning it to the inside of the black coat I planned to wear tomorrow.
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