I Destroyed My Cheating Ex‑Husband And Married His Brother

"More water, Mrs. Lawson?"

"Just a splash, David," I said, tapping my fingernail against the crystal glass.

"Your husband is running late?" David asked, hovering near the edge of my table.

"Traffic, I assume." I checked my watch. Seven-thirty.

"Shall I hold the kitchen? The chef has prepared a special tasting menu for your anniversary."

"Give him another ten minutes. Gavin hates cold soup."

"Of course, ma'am. Should I bring the bread basket?"

"No bread. Just keep the water coming."

David bowed and walked away.

I picked up my phone. Still a blank screen. Three years of marriage today. We survived the startup phase of his company, the endless nights, the stress. Tonight was supposed to be our celebration.

I dialed Chloe.

"Tell me you're drinking expensive champagne," Chloe answered immediately.

"I'm drinking tap water."

"He stood you up?"

"He's late. There's a difference."

"Iris, it's your third anniversary. He should be sitting across from you, feeding you oysters and apologizing for working too much."

"He's probably wrapping up a deal. You know how the merger is going."

"I know he has a wife waiting at a Michelin-star restaurant. Did you text him?"

"Three times. Left on read."

"Call his assistant. Make sure he's not buried under a pile of contracts."

"Mark usually goes home at six."

"Mark worships Gavin. He's probably still at the office. Call him."

"Fine. I'll call Mark. Bye, Chloe."

"Don't let him off the hook, Iris. Make him buy you a boat."

"A boat. Right."

I ended the call and found Mark's number in my contacts.

"Mark," I said when the line connected. "Are you still at the office?"

"Mrs. Lawson. Good evening. No, I left an hour ago."

"Where is my husband?"

"Mr. Lawson left the building at six sharp."

"He did?"

"Yes, ma'am. He told me to clear his evening schedule entirely."

"Did he mention where he was going?"

"He just said he had a very important personal engagement. I assumed he was heading straight to the restaurant to meet you."

"Did he take his driver?"

"No, he drove his own car. The Porsche."

"I see. Thank you, Mark."

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Lawson? Do you want me to try his private line?"

"No. I'll handle it."

My elbow clipped the silver salt shaker. It tipped over, spilling white grains across the black tablecloth. Bad luck.

I pressed Gavin's contact name. The phone rang against my ear.

One ring. Two. Three. Four.

*Click.*

The line opened.

"Gavin?" I asked.

No answer. Just a muffled rustling sound. Fabric rubbing against a microphone. A heavy thud.

"Gavin, are you in the car? The connection is bad."

A sharp gasp pierced the static.

My spine stiffened. "Hello?"

"Fuck," a woman's voice groaned. "Right there."

My fingers clamped around the phone. The restaurant chatter around me faded into a dull hum.

"Keep your hips still," Gavin growled.

I knew that voice. I woke up next to that voice every morning for the last thousand days.

"It's too much," the woman whimpered. "You're fucking me too hard."

"Spread your thighs wider."

A wet, slapping noise echoed through the tiny speaker. Skin hitting skin. Fast. Brutal.

"Oh, fuck," the woman squealed. "Gavin, please."

"You like my cock?" he sneered. "Tell me you like it."

"I love your fucking cock. Faster. Please."

The phone slipped in my sweaty palm. I caught it before it hit the tablecloth, pressing it flush against my ear. I shouldn't listen. I needed to hang up.

I didn't move a muscle.

"Look at me," Gavin demanded. "Open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you."

"I'm looking. I'm looking."

"Who do you belong to?"

"You. I belong to you."

"Say my name."

"Gavin. Fuck, Gavin, don't stop."

"I'm not stopping until I ruin your fucking pussy."

"Arch your back," my husband ordered. "Let me see your tits."

"Bite them. Fuck, bite my nipples."

A wet sucking sound followed. The woman let out a high-pitched wail.

"You like that, you fucking whore?" Gavin asked.

"Yes! God, yes! Fuck my pussy harder!"

"I'm going to stretch you out."

"Do it. Wreck me."

The slapping grew louder. Faster. The audio was crystal clear. I could hear the wetness, the friction, the absolute lack of restraint.

"Are you going to cum inside my pussy?" she panted.

"I'm going to fill you up," Gavin grunted, his voice straining. "Take all of it, you fucking slut."

*Bang. Bang. Bang.*

The rhythmic thud of a headboard slamming against a wall vibrated through the line.

"Gavin!" the woman screamed.

"Swallow it," he barked. "Every fucking drop."

A low, guttural groan tore from his throat. The exact sound he made when he finished inside me.

My stomach hurled. The world tilted sideways.

I yanked the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen. Call duration: three minutes and twelve seconds.

He was still breathing heavily on the other end.

"You're a mess," Gavin chuckled.

"Clean me up, then," she purred.

I hit the red button. The call ended.

Silence rushed back into my ears, followed immediately by the clinking of silverware and the soft jazz playing over the restaurant speakers.

An ugly, dry laugh scraped its way out of my throat.

It wasn't a sob. It wasn't a cry. It was a laugh.

David, the waiter, materialized at my side. He held a bottle of vintage Dom Pérignon.

"Mrs. Lawson?" He frowned, his eyes darting to my face. "Are you unwell?"

"Pop the cork, David."

"Should we wait for Mr. Lawson?"

"Mr. Lawson won't be joining me tonight." I set my phone face down on the table. "He's currently occupied with dessert."

David blinked, clearly confused by my bright, sharp tone. "Shall I cancel the tasting menu?"

"Absolutely not. Bring every single course. And leave the bottle."

"Right away, ma'am."

He scurried off, leaving me alone in the dim candlelight.

I picked up my water glass. My hand didn't shake. My jaw ached from how hard I smiled.

I pulled my phone back toward me and opened the messaging app. I typed a single text to Gavin.

*Happy Anniversary, darling. Hope it was good for you.*

I hit send.

Then, I picked up my fork. The metal tines gleamed in the candlelight.

Tomorrow, I would hire a lawyer. Tonight, I was going to eat.

Just as the first course arrived, my phone buzzed against the table. Gavin's name flashed on the screen.