Chapter 3

The next day, Sienna came over to drop off some blueprints.

When taking off her shoes at the entryway, she casually reached into the cabinet and pulled out a pair of plush pink slippers.

My slippers.

The ones I bought, stored on the second shelf.

She slipped them on with practiced ease, as if she had done it a hundred times before.

"Chloe, these slippers are honestly so soft. I end up wearing them every time I stop by."

I looked down at her feet.

"Every time?"

She blinked, quickly catching herself.

"I mean... the few times I had to drop off emergency materials for Julian."

Julian stepped out of the study right then.

"She’s just dropping off paperwork, Chloe. Don’t start interrogating her like an IRS agent."

I didn’t answer him.

My gaze drifted down to the drafting tube in Sienna’s hand.

Engraved on the cap were two initials.

J. V.

That was my anniversary gift to Julian three years ago.

A custom-crafted mahogany drafting tube, lined with handmade Italian velvet, engraved with his name.

It had cost me two full months of my salary.

When he received it, he had merely said, "Not bad. A bit nicer than the generic store-bought ones."

I had never seen him use it since.

I thought it was collecting dust in some corner of his studio.

Turns out, he was using it.

Just never in front of me.

"Did you lend her that tube?"

Julian didn't even look up.

"It was just sitting there. Sienna has lots of high-end blueprints, so it actually got put to use."

"That was your anniversary gift."

He finally frowned, irritated.

"Once a gift is given, it’s mine. I can use it however I want or lend it to whoever needs it. Stop trying to control everything."

Sienna bit her lower lip, speaking in a fragile, apologetic tone.

"Chloe, I am so sorry. I had no idea it had sentimental value. Let me empty it out and leave it here right now—"

I looked at her fingers. Her nails were coated in soft pink polish.

The exact same shade as the slippers.

"Keep it," I said flatly.

I pulled out my phone and snapped a clear photo of the drafting tube, including the custom serial number engraved on the base.

Julian’s face darkened.

"Why the hell are you taking photos of that?"

"Professional habit. I like keeping records."

Ten minutes after Sienna left, my phone buzzed with an incoming call from Julian’s mother.

"Chloe, Julian told me you’ve been picking fights with him lately. He’s an artist, he has to network with high-profile clients. As his wife, you need to show some grace and support."

Eight years. Always the exact same script.

"Eleanor," I said calmly. "If Julian and I divorce, who gets custody of Leo?"

The line went completely dead for three full seconds.

"What nonsense are you talking about? Divorce? Leo is a Vance. A Vance child stays with his family, not with an outsider."

An outsider.

There it was again.

"Understood."

I hung up, logged the exact time of the call, and opened a file on my computer that had been in progress for three months.

The divorce settlement.

The asset division schedule.

The primary custody request.

Every single balance was cross-referenced.

Every piece of evidence was backed up to the cloud.

Eight years of marriage, and he thought I was just a docile woman who cooked his meals and kept his calendar.

He forgot that my entire career was built on hunting down the truth behind the numbers.