PART 2
The moment my brother said the words, my entire world tilted sideways.
“He’s at my hotel in Hawaii,” Daniel said slowly. “With a beautiful woman. And he’s using your ATM card.”
For a few seconds I couldn’t speak.
The office around me kept moving—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, coworkers laughing near the break room—but it all felt distant, like I was hearing it through water.
My name is Lauren Mitchell, and until that moment, I believed my marriage was stable.
Not perfect—Ethan had never been perfect—but stable enough. We had our disagreements like any couple. Sometimes he worked late. Sometimes he forgot things. Occasionally he told small lies about where he’d been.
But nothing like this.
Nothing like flying to Hawaii with another woman and paying for it with my money.
“Lauren?” Daniel’s voice came through the phone again.
“I’m here,” I said quietly.
“You okay?”
No.
But I wasn’t going to say that.
Instead, I asked the only thing that mattered.
“What room is he in?”
Daniel didn’t hesitate.
“Room 804.”
I closed my eyes.
“Can you keep an eye on him?”
“Already doing it.”
“Record everything,” I said. “And don’t let them know you know anything.”
“Got it.”
I hung up the phone slowly.
For a few seconds I sat there, staring at the spreadsheet on my computer screen. The numbers blurred together until they became meaningless.
My husband was supposed to be in New York.
He had kissed me goodbye yesterday morning in our kitchen in San Diego, promising he’d be back by Friday.
“Just meetings,” he’d said casually, stuffing clothes into a suitcase.
May you like
Now he was apparently drinking champagne in Hawaii with another woman.
And using my debit card to pay for it.
