Chapter 3

It was a message from Mr. Peterson, my lawyer:

【Ms. Miller, I have received the contents of the USB drive you provided.】

【The evidence chain regarding the marital property transfer and forged signatures is complete.】

【Additionally, your request to rejoin the military has been approved.】

【You can process your re-enlistment paperwork after May 1st.】

I looked up, gazing out the window.

Downstairs, Mark's car slowly drove out of the community.

A woman was sitting in the passenger seat.

I opened Lily's room.

She was still asleep, hugging her rabbit doll that was missing an ear.

Mark had given it to her on her second birthday.

That day, he said he had to work overtime suddenly and had it delivered by courier.

I quietly closed the door.

The living room TV was still on, replaying last night's reality show.

The host said, "May all lovers in the world find their happy ending."

On Monday evening, Mark returned.

He carried a faint, unfamiliar perfume scent and a smudge of lipstick at the corner of his mouth.

He claimed a female client was too enthusiastic during a business dinner.

I didn't expose him.

But when I put his clean socks back in his closet, I quietly retrieved a second memory card from the lining of that jacket.

This card contained only one video.

It was filmed on June 18, 2022.

In the video, he was in a hotel bed, embracing a woman in a red dress.

The camera focused on the nightstand.

An opened condom wrapper lay on it.

The woman laughed and asked, "Aren't you afraid your wife will find out?"

He laughed. "So what if she finds out? She's an ex-soldier, no family support, no connections. Where would she go without me?"

"Besides, her scout skills were long gone, worn out in the kitchen."

I turned off my phone.

His seven years of infidelity, I had collected all the evidence in just three days.

The next day, Mrs. Davis said she was going back to her hometown to visit relatives and asked if I wanted to go.

I said Lily had a bit of a cough, so I wouldn't.

Mark insisted on driving his mother.

He eagerly carried her bags and helped her downstairs, looking like a devoted son.

After they left, I took Lily to our neighbor's house.

Then I entered Mark's study.

Ten minutes later, I found a brown envelope in a hidden compartment behind his bookshelf.

Inside were two insurance policies.

Policyholder: Mark Davis.

The first policy listed "Chloe" as the insured.

The second policy listed "Leo" as the insured.

The name of his four-year-old illegitimate son.

Both policies were purchased on my daughter's birthday.

I picked up my phone and sent a message to Mr. Peterson:

【He bought insurance for his illegitimate son. Can this be used as evidence of bigamy?】

Mr. Peterson replied instantly:

【Yes. And in the Excel spreadsheet you provided earlier, Chloe is noted as "married." If her husband files a lawsuit, Mark Davis could be charged with criminal interference with a military marriage. We are currently verifying her husband's identity.】

Criminal interference with a military marriage. That alone could land him in jail for three years.

I turned off my phone and stood in the center of the study, looking at our wedding photo on the wall.

On Monday, Mark was sharply dressed in a suit, his leather shoes gleaming.

He said the company had a meeting and he needed to meet investors, so he had to dress formally.

I said okay.

After he left, I changed into my old military uniform, which had been at the bottom of a trunk for three years.

No insignia, no lapel pins, but the fit was still there, and so was my spirit.

At ten in the morning, I stood at the entrance of the General's office building.

I was met by a young Lieutenant, about thirty years old.

"Ms. Miller?" He gave a crisp military salute. "General Thorne has been waiting for you."

I followed him down a long corridor.

Photographs of past Generals hung on both sides of the hallway.

I paused in front of one.

The man in the photo wore a General's dress uniform, his hair completely white, his gaze piercing.

"Alice," his voice was hoarse. "You've grown some gray hairs."

My throat tightened, and I stood at attention, saluting.

"General Thorne, sir."

He waved his hand. "Cut the formalities. Come in and sit down."

He pointed to a chair. "Tell me, how far along are things with your situation?"