My Cheating Wife's Secret Family

After a week-long business trip, I expected a taxi. Instead, my wife came to pick me up.

Claire Vance—cold, aloof, an ice sculpture of a woman—had actually prepared a surprise.

I stared at the limited-edition, diamond-studded watch in her hand. Said nothing.

"Don't like it?" A flicker of confusion cracked her composed mask.

I didn't answer. Just looked at her.

"Claire." My voice was steady. "You slept with him, didn't you?"

Her expression tightened. She frowned, gaze shifting sideways. "What nonsense are you spouting now?"

I studied her profile, then let out a dry, humorless laugh.