HE FED HIS MISTRESS OUR ANNIVERSARY CAKE—THEN DISCOVERED HIS WIFE OWNED THE HOUSE AND HELD THE EVIDENCE THAT COULD END HIS CAREER

Sophia requested a meeting with me on a Friday afternoon.

I almost refused.

Then she sent a message.

There are things Kyle told me that you should know.

I forwarded it to Meredith.

She advised me not to meet privately and suggested keeping communication in writing.

I agreed.

Sophia sent a long email that evening.

I read it twice.

Then a third time.

She claimed Kyle had told her our marriage was effectively over.

That we lived separate lives.

That we were waiting for the right time to divorce.

He had also told her I stayed in the townhouse because he was generously allowing it.

I laughed aloud at that.

Then kept reading.

Sophia said Kyle had promised to marry her after his promotion.

He had described the anniversary dinner as the evening he would begin publicly introducing her as his partner.

The cake incident, according to Sophia, had been his idea.

She admitted she knew it would hurt me.

She wrote that she had wanted to believe his promises.

I stared at the final paragraph.

I know I participated in humiliating you. I'm sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me.

I closed the laptop.

For a long time, I sat in silence.

The next morning, I replied.

Sophia, thank you for acknowledging what happened. I am not interested in discussing Kyle's feelings or your relationship with him. Any information relevant to the company's investigation should go directly to the authorized review team. I wish you well, but I need distance.

I read it once.

Then sent it.

Two days later, Sophia resigned from North Harbor.

Kyle remained employed pending the audit's conclusion.

The company announced temporary changes to marketing leadership.

I didn't celebrate.

There was nothing joyful about watching people destroy their own lives.

But I wasn't going to rescue them from the consequences either.

That evening, Clara came over with takeout.

We sat on the living-room floor surrounded by cartons of noodles.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

I considered.