Caught Her Cheating,So I Froze Every Dollar

I stepped out of the team dinner with my coworkers.

Through the window, I spotted a young couple at a table—the woman carefully peeling shrimp for the man.

My colleague sighed enviously. "This is why I need to live vicariously through other people's relationships."

He nudged me. "Hey, does your wife peel shrimp for you like that?"

I was about to say Paula's allergic to shrimp.

Five years together. Shrimp never once appeared on our table.

Then the woman turned, laughing—

And my expression froze. Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice.

Then I laughed.

Paula Mason—the woman who'd always been allergic to shrimp—was leaning in with pure bliss on her face, biting the half-eaten shrimp right out of that guy's mouth.

...

The man startled and pushed her away. "People are watching!"

"Have you no shame?"

Paula's eyes curved into crescents, her voice dripping with indulgence. "He's my boyfriend. What's there to be afraid of?"

Her voice sent a spike of pain through my chest. I watched her grab his hand, her face soft with affection.

"Why so shy?" she teased. "You're nothing like this in bed."

Beside me, my colleagues whispered.

"People these days, honestly—"

"In public, no less."

"Already talking about what happens in the bedroom."

My feet felt like lead. My chest heaved. The sheer force of betrayal threatened to crack my ribs open.

I stared at Paula flirting with him, pulled out my phone, and snapped a photo. Then I opened our chat and looked at what she'd sent me thirty minutes ago:

[Honey, I have to work late tonight.]

[Don't wait up for dinner.]

[Love you.]

My eyes burned.

My colleague tugged at my arm, ready to leave. I understood—if I pretended nothing happened, maybe Paula and I could still maintain the illusion of peace.

But just as I reached the restaurant entrance—

I heard the man's voice, petulant and complaining.

"How much longer do we have to keep this a secret?"

He sighed. "My grandpa's birthday banquet is next month. My mom keeps asking me to bring you home."

"I can't exactly—" Each word hammered into my chest. "—tell them I'm actually some married woman's dirty little secret."

"And make my whole family a laughingstock."

I stopped walking.

I'd assumed—at least the guy looked harmless. Innocent, even. If I was going to tear everything apart, there was no need to drag in someone blameless. Whatever happened between Paula and me, we should handle it ourselves.

I'd planned to tell him the truth: You've been deceived.

But now? Now this was easy.

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I heard Paula say:

"Don't worry."

"Everything I owe you—"

"I'll make it up to you. All of it."

I inhaled deeply and pulled free from my colleague's grip.

"Give me a minute."

I met his confused gaze. "Something urgent just came up."

Before he could react, I was already at Paula's table.

I grabbed the glass of orange juice and hurled it in her face.

As she sat there, dripping and stunned, I smiled.

"What a coincidence."

"Paula."

"Cheating at the same restaurant where I'm having my team dinner. Caught red-handed. Should I compliment your choice of venue, or should I compliment—"

My gaze dropped to the pile of shrimp shells.

"—your miraculous recovery from that shrimp allergy?"

"Paula!"

I snatched up the second glass of orange juice, ready to throw it—but she grabbed my wrist.

"Elliot James!"

"Let me explain!"

I looked down at the hand gripping mine. The wedding band on her ring finger still matched mine.

I watched the panic flash across her face—and the fury I'd been choking down surged back to the surface.