Chapter 3She Paid 999 Dollars For A Cake, Yet I’m The One Being Judged

The screen flared to life, but my heart plunged into an icy abyss. A suffocating chill wrapped around me from every corner of the room.

The desktop background was still our family photo at the beach. Sarah's smile looked so pure, so full of joy. Now, that same smile felt like a venomous mockery.

With shaking hands, I opened her browser. The history had been meticulously wiped clean. I checked the downloads folder, the trash bin. Every conceivable hiding spot was completely empty. She had covered her tracks flawlessly.

Just as I was about to shut the laptop in defeat, my eyes snagged on an inconspicuous folder tucked in the corner of the screen.

The folder was named "Lily's Milestones."

It was a digital diary we had agreed to keep together the day our daughter was born, meant for her childhood photos and videos.

I clicked it open. Instead of familiar snapshots of my little girl, I found dozens of encrypted documents.

My pulse hammered against my ribs.

I tried using every significant date in our lives to unlock them. All failed. I stared at those locked files, consumed by a single, obsessive thought. I had to rip them open.

I immediately called Mark, an old college buddy who worked in cybersecurity. I practically begged him, giving him a rushed story about forgetting the password to crucial work files.

Mark listened, paused for a long moment, then sent me a secure drop link to upload the documents.

The wait felt like an eternity. I paced the living room, chain-smoking until the floor was littered with crushed filters. I didn't know what I wanted to find in those files, and I was terrified of what I actually would.

An hour later, Mark called back. His voice was thick with hesitation.

"Laura, man... are you absolutely sure you want to look at this?"

"Sometimes ignorance really is bliss."

His words slammed into my chest like a sledgehammer.

"Send them to me," I demanded, forcing my voice to remain steady.

The decrypted files landed in my inbox seconds later. I took a deep breath that tasted like ash and clicked on the first document.

The title was "First Time."

Inside was a single photograph and a date.

The photo showed the side profile of a handsome young man. He was sitting by the window of a café, bathed in sunlight, looking incredibly clean-cut and warm.

The date was exactly three months ago.

I opened the second document. "Second Time."

This photo featured a different man, standing in a gym, his muscles sharply defined under the harsh lighting. The date was two and a half months ago.

Third. Fourth.

I mechanically clicked through them, one by one. The men varied wildly. A refined guy in a crisp white shirt, a bright-eyed college kid in a hoodie, a rugged, wild-looking man behind the wheel of a sports car.

The only common denominator was that they were all young, and they were all gorgeous.

And the dates, starting from three months ago, grew increasingly frequent.

The most recent entry was dated today.

It wasn't a one-time mistake. She had been playing me for an absolute fool for months.

A hollow laugh escaped my throat. I laughed until the tears finally broke free, tracing hot, pathetic lines down my face.

I picked up my phone and, without a second of hesitation, booked the earliest express train to the neighboring state.

Sarah. You were my entire world. But this time, I was going to tear you out of my life with my own two hands.

I was going to march into that hotel. I was going to kick down that door. I was going to make her choose between that man and me.

No. She didn't get a choice anymore.

I just wanted her destroyed.

Sitting on the late-night train, I felt like an empty shell devoid of a soul. The dark scenery whipped past the window at breakneck speed, much like the last seven years of my pathetic, laughable marriage.