Chapter 2

On Wednesday at 5:00 PM, David changed into a sportswear set, grabbed his tennis gear, and headed out.

"I'm playing tennis with Marcus and the guys. I’ll be back late."

I stood by the kitchen door, watching him change his shoes.

"What time will you be back?"

"Depends. Probably around eight or nine," he replied without looking up. "Don't wait up for dinner."

The door closed.

I walked to the window and watched him walk downstairs, get into his car, and drive off.

The car turned east.

The tennis club was to the west.

I pulled out my phone and sent a Snapchat message to his buddy, Marcus:

"Hey Marcus, is David playing tennis with you guys today? What time do you think you'll finish? I’m planning dinner."

Two minutes later, Marcus replied:

"Tennis? No, I'm working overtime today. We didn't schedule anything. Did he get the days mixed up?"

I put my phone down.

I walked into the bedroom, opened the closet, and pulled out a black dress from the very back—one I had bought two years ago but never wore.

At 6:00 PM, I arrived at the hotel.

The lobby was quiet. Soft piano music drifted from a corner.

I found a seat in the lounge area, directly facing the elevators.

At 6:23 PM, David walked out of the elevator.

He had changed out of his sportswear. He was wearing a casual designer suit I had never seen before. His hair was perfectly styled with gel.

His arm was wrapped around a woman.

She was much younger than him, wearing a tight red dress, holding a handbag—the exact $13,800 bag from the statement.

They walked toward the exit, laughing and talking.

David leaned in, whispering into her ear. The woman giggled, playfully pushing him away and tapping his chest.

I sat in the lounge, completely still.

They walked right past me, barely three yards away. Neither of them looked in my direction.

They pushed the glass doors open and got into a taxi waiting outside.

I took out my phone and snapped a photo of them.

At 9:40 PM, David came home.

He was back in his sportswear. His hair was slightly damp, looking like he had just showered.

"How was the game?" I asked.

"Not bad. Got a good sweat in," he said, tossing his tennis bag by the door.

"Marcus’s game is getting worse and worse."

"Did you eat? I saved some dinner for you."

"Yeah, I grabbed a steak with Marcus and the guys."

I nodded and went back to watching TV.

He walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

I opened my phone, pulled up the photo of the red dress, the $13,800 bag, his profile, and her smile.

I pressed delete.

The following Wednesday, I followed him to the same hotel.

At 5:40 PM, he left his office. Instead of coming home, he took a cab straight to the hotel.

At 6:00 PM sharp, the woman arrived.

I sat in the coffee shop across the street, watching them walk into the lobby together through the window.

An hour later, I received a text from David: "Having dinner with Marcus and the guys tonight. Back late."

I didn't reply.

That night at 11:00 PM, he returned, quietly opening the door.

I lay in bed, keeping my breathing steady.

He made a few calls in the living room, whispering.

I only caught one sentence: "Next time I go on a business trip, let’s go somewhere further."

Business trip.

I closed my eyes, repeating those words in my mind.

The next day, I went back to Ashley's bank.

"Help me check something," I said, sliding David’s ID number across the desk.

"All of his travel bookings for the next three months."

Ashley looked at me, asked no questions, and started typing.

Ten minutes later, she handed me a printout.

Next month, from the 15th to the 18th. Miami. Two round-trip tickets. A hotel room with a king-sized bed.

I folded the paper and slipped it into my purse.

"Ashley," I said. "The plan we talked about last time? We can start preparing now."