Chapter 3Low-Maintenance Wife

By the time I pulled into the office parking garage after dropping Henry off, the meeting had already started. I slipped into the conference room several minutes late.

When the meeting wrapped up, Sabrina was already waiting in my office.

She had laid out artisan pastries and cold brew on the coffee table. The moment I walked in, she pouted about why I hadn't answered her texts.

"Lily wants a divorce."

Her hands froze as she set down the coffee cup. It took her several seconds to lower it completely to the table.

"She found out? Did your parents say something to her? Or did someone drag our business into her face—"

"She's known all along. But that's not why. She said she met someone she likes."

The office went dead silent.

I had no idea what was running through Sabrina's mind, but my own thoughts spiraled backward. When had Lily first known about Sabrina and me?

Was it those long weekends when I claimed to be on out-of-town client trips? Or had Sabrina left an earring or a lip gloss in my car?

Sabrina's sharp laugh broke my trance.

"And you actually believe her?"

I was wondering whether I should.

On the drive from Henry's school to the office, Lily's expression had replayed in my head like a loop of film.

She hadn't looked like she was trying to get a rise out of me.

Yet if she wasn't just trying to hurt me, why surrender the house?

Our place in the suburbs was worth easily a million and a half.

And this was a woman who routinely waited for seasonal sales just to buy running shoes.

I unlocked my phone, opened the photo I had snapped of the agreement, and scanned the asset division clause again.

Sabrina leaned over my shoulder, skimming the screen.

"That proves it. When a woman claims she doesn't want a dime, nine times out of ten she's holding out for a bigger payout."

She sounded entirely confident.

I used to love that about her.

Whenever a problem arose, Lily would weigh every practical constraint, while Sabrina delivered swift, effortless conclusions that took the burden off my shoulders.

I dialed Lily's number and hit speakerphone.

I wanted a third party in the room.

When it had just been Lily and me this morning, I kept feeling as though she was pulling all the strings.

The line clicked open, and I kept my tone as neutral as possible.

"The asset division in the contract—I don't agree to it. We can put the house on the market and split the equity down the middle. Whatever you're legally entitled to, I'm not shortchanging you."

Sabrina touched my forearm from behind, but I brushed her off.

Over the receiver came the rhythmic whir of an office laser printer.

Lily was clearly already at her firm.

"Fine. Have your lawyer draft the amendment and send it over."

The rebuttal I had rehearsed died in my throat.

I switched off the speakerphone and stepped toward the floor-to-ceiling glass.

"You're not even going to ask why I'm willing to give you half?"

"It's marital property. It's not a gift from you."

My blood simmered.

"Fine. Let's set the money aside for a second. Who is this guy? What does he do? Does he even know you're married with an eight-year-old?"

She didn't answer right away.

I seized the opening, pouring out the arguments I had polished during my commute.

"I'm not against you seeing people, but you can't mistake a guy being sweet to you for a couple of weeks for the real world. A man sleeping with you or entertaining you on weekends is entirely different from a man willing to build a life with you. Especially when you have Henry."

"Henry is staying with you."

That line again.

It felt like she was lying in wait for me to bring up our son.

I swallowed my temper. "So because he doesn't want a kid, you just throw Henry away? Lily, you were never this selfish."

"Leaving Henry with you was my decision. Don't pin it on anyone else."

I still couldn't let it go. "Does he have kids of his own? Has he ever raised one? Of course he treats you like a queen when he doesn't have to carry a single ounce of real responsibility."

Lily's reply was clipped and steady.

"He's divorced. No children. And Sean, even if I hadn't met him, I was never going to continue raising Henry alone."

That was the first time she had offered any detail about him.

I thought knowing something would take the edge off.

It did the exact opposite.

He had his own history, his own independent life, and now he was stepping in to take my wife.

The humiliation dug deep.

"What's his name?" I demanded.

"Lucas Hayes."

I rolled the name over in my head.

A total blank.

Not a corporate client I entertained, not a colleague she had ever mentioned, not someone in our mutual social circle.

A stranger stung worse than an acquaintance.

Where the hell had she met him?

What did they talk about late at night?

Every evening when I came home to find her sitting on the sectional, had his name been glowing on her phone screen all along?

"How far have you two gone?"

My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached.

Minutes ago, I had told myself that if she was guilty too, my conscience would be cleared.

Yet now that we were on the brink of the answer, I terrified myself by realizing I couldn't bear to hear it.

I wanted her to admit fault.

I also couldn't stomach the reality of her actually having crossed the line.

Lily didn't answer. In the background, someone called her name, saying the project prints were ready.

She answered them, and when she spoke into the receiver again, her voice sounded distant.

"I have a project meeting. Monday's move-out stands. If you have time tonight, we can finalize the logistics for Henry."

The line went dead.

Sabrina walked over and asked how it went.

I didn't answer.

She handed me the cold brew, her tone noticeably lighter than before.

"Honestly, this is great. If she's seeing someone else, you don't have to carry that ridiculous guilt around anymore. We can finally—"

"Go back to your desk."

The smile vanished from her face.

I knew it was harsh. In the past, I would have softened it by promising dinner later.

Right now, I didn't have the bandwidth.

I opened my text history with Lily.

Three months ago, while I was traveling on business, she had asked if I could fly home a day early.

I texted back that work was tied up, and she replied with a simple, Okay.

Right after that, she had sent a screenshot of a medical lab report. I had never replied.

Scrolling down, last week she had mentioned she was busy on Saturday and asked me to take Henry in for his booster shot.

I had agreed, then spontaneously booked a luxury boutique resort an hour outside the city with Sabrina for two nights.

In the past, the thing I prized most about Lily was that she never audited my calendar.

Now, staring at those cold lines of text, a sudden, burning question consumed me: every time I had stayed out, where the hell had she gone?

I buzzed my assistant on the intercom.

"Clear my afternoon calendar."

Sabrina was still hovering by the doorway. "Are you going to see her?"

I dug my spare house key out of the desk drawer and grabbed my jacket.

"I'm going home."