A Prenuptial of Perfect Revenge

The next morning, as soon as I arrived at the office, I received an encrypted email from Maya.

"Here's what you asked for. This Chloe woman is staging a full-scale invasion of your life."

I opened the attachment. It was a screenshot of Chloe's Instagram account.

Her latest post was a close-up of a fountain pen—the missing Montblanc. The photo was artistic, with soft lighting, and an open book on architectural design lay beside it. The caption read: "Mr. C says my talent deserves the best tools."

I clicked to the next post. It was a selfie of her in my living room, holding my cat, with the Manhattan skyline in the background. The caption: "The New York City nightscape, with the right person."

There was another one of her in the driver's seat of my Porsche, her hands gripping the steering wheel. "In Mr. C's car, feeling like I own the world."

Every photo, every caption, was a blatant provocation.

I closed the photos and opened another folder.

It was the background information Maya had dug up on Chloe.

Chloe came from a modest background and had graduated from an unremarkable state university. Her resume was mediocre. Someone with her credentials had virtually no chance of getting into a top-tier architectural design firm like ours.

The only bright spot was an award she had won in a college competition.

I kept scrolling. When I saw the last photo, my blood ran cold.

In the picture, Chloe was holding a printed architectural blueprint, smiling with satisfaction. The title at the top of the blueprint read: "Riverbend Project."

It was the culmination of three months of my hard work. It was the core design proposal I had prepared for the company's most important bid this year. It was also the most critical project of my career.

I shot up from my chair and marched to the private breakroom in my office to get my personal MacBook Pro.

I flipped open the lid, and the password prompt appeared.

I tried my birthday. Incorrect.

I tried our wedding anniversary. Incorrect.

I tried all our important dates, and every single one was wrong.

I stared at the password box, my mind a blank. Then, a dreadful thought surfaced.

Maya's file had included Chloe's birthday.

My hand trembled slightly as I typed in the date.

"Welcome."

The computer unlocked.

My personal computer. Caleb had changed the password to his mistress's birthday.

A tidal wave of humiliation and rage crashed over me, almost suffocating me.

I bit my lip and opened the file manager. The Riverbend Project folder on the desktop showed its last modification date as yesterday.

I clicked it open.

The core design was almost identical to mine, but a few key structural and design details had been cleverly tweaked, just enough to erase my design fingerprint while retaining the proposal's essence.

The signature block bore the name "Chloe Archer."