After I Found Out He Slept with His Best Friend’s Girl

The glow of my monitor was the only light left on the fourteenth floor. I stared at the Harmon & Cole pitch deck. I deleted a slide. I typed a new headline. My fingers hit the keys hard. I needed this promotion. It was the only thing in my life that felt clean. I had spent five years putting my ambitions on hold to make Spencer comfortable. I smiled at his work events. I played the supportive girlfriend. But not anymore. Harmon & Cole was a massive account. If I landed it, the Senior Director title was mine. I poured all my anger into the pitch. I stayed late every night. I wasn't going to let Spencer ruin my career too.

Maya leaned against the edge of my cubicle. She held two white cardboard takeout boxes. The smell of sesame chicken and fried rice filled the quiet office.

"You've been staring at that slide for ten minutes," Maya said. "And you're typing like it owes you money."

I didn't look up. "It needs to be perfect."

Maya set the boxes down on my desk. She pulled up a chair and sat. "Ayla, look at me."

I finally stopped typing. I met her eyes.

"You're running on something," she said quietly. "And it’s not just ambition. You look like you're going to war. What's going on?"

I looked at my best friend. Maya knew me better than anyone. She was fiercely protective. She had seen me cry over spilled coffee in the past, but she had never seen me like this. Cold. Calculated. I couldn't lie to her. I took a deep breath. I told her everything. I told her about the laptop. The messages. Valery. Jett standing at my door in the middle of the night. The plan.

Maya didn't gasp. She didn't interrupt. She just watched my face.

When I finished, the silence stretched between us.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop," Maya finally said. Her voice was steady. "I'm going to tell you to be careful. You're playing with fire, Ayla."

"I know," I said. "I'm already being careful."

The next afternoon, the game officially began. A courier arrived at the reception desk. Maya signed for the package and brought a massive, matte-black shopping bag to my desk.

"Delivery for you," she whispered.

I pulled away the thick black tissue paper. Inside sat a limited-edition Bottega Veneta handbag. It was woven leather in a deep emerald green. The smell of rich, expensive leather hit the air. There was a three-month waitlist for this exact bag.

I found a small white card tucked inside. *To my beautiful Ayla. Love, Spencer.*

A store receipt was clipped to the back of the card. It was left deliberately visible. Four thousand, two hundred dollars.

My phone buzzed on the desk. An encrypted text from Jett.

*Delivery made. Check this out.*

He sent a screenshot. It was a text from his phone to Valery. It showed a picture of the receipt. Underneath the photo, Jett had typed: *Oops—wrong person. Meant to send that to my assistant to file.*

I stared at the screen and smiled. Jett was ruthless. He knew exactly where to strike. Valery's biggest fear was being second best. She wanted to feel special. A four-thousand-dollar receipt for the official girlfriend was the ultimate slap in the face. Jett played her perfectly. I could picture Valery staring at her phone. Her blood boiling. Her hands shaking. Spencer had never bought her anything nice. She only got cheap hotel rooms, quick hookups, and deleted texts.

*Hook is set,* I texted back.

That evening, I got home before Spencer. I left the Bottega bag in the trunk of my car. I wanted the timing to be absolutely perfect.

When Spencer walked in, he looked pale. His tie was loosened. He didn't even kiss my cheek.

"Long day?" I asked. I stood at the stove and stirred a pot of pasta.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Just... work stress."

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He flinched. He pulled it out, looked at the screen, and his jaw tightened visibly.

"I need to take this," he said quickly. He walked to the balcony and slid the glass door shut behind him.

But he didn't close it all the way. A two-inch gap remained. I turned the stove off. I moved silently across the living room and stood near the curtain. The cold night air slipped through the crack.

"Are you crazy?" Spencer hissed into the phone. "Why are you calling me right now?"

I couldn't hear Valery's exact words, but I heard the shrill, frantic tone coming through the speaker. She was losing her mind.

"A bag?" Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. "I don't know what you're talking about! I didn't buy anyone a bag!"

More shrill noise from the phone.

"Valery, stop!" Spencer's voice cracked. "You're acting paranoid. I'm not using you. You know the situation!"

He paced the small balcony. His face was red.

"I didn't spend four grand!" he practically yelled. "You're losing your mind!"

He hung up the phone. He stood there, gripping the metal railing, breathing hard. The picture-perfect boyfriend was unraveling. And I hadn't even lifted a finger.

I quietly stepped back to the kitchen. I turned the stove back on. I grabbed my car keys from the counter.

"I forgot something in the car," I called out cheerfully.

I went down to the garage. I grabbed the matte-black shopping bag. The leather handles felt heavy in my hand. I walked back upstairs and pushed the front door open.

Spencer was sitting on the sofa. He looked exhausted. He rubbed his temples. He looked up as I walked in.

I set the bag on the coffee table. I let out a soft, delighted gasp. I pulled the emerald green bag out of the dust cover.

"Spencer," I said. My voice was thick with fake emotion. "I can't believe you."

He stared at the bag. His eyes widened. He recognized the brand. He remembered the phone call. I watched the gears turn in his head. Confusion. Panic. And then, calculation.

He realized the truth. Valery wasn't crazy. The bag existed. And it had his name on it. If he denied it now, he would have to explain why someone else was sending me four-thousand-dollar gifts. He was backed into a corner.

I walked over and kissed his cheek. "It arrived at the office today. It's beautiful. Thank you so much, babe."

Spencer swallowed hard. He forced a smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

"You're welcome," he said smoothly. He wrapped an arm around my waist. "I knew you would love it."

He took the credit. He actually took the credit for a bag he didn't buy.

I looked at his handsome face. The face I trusted for five years. He was such a good liar. It was terrifying how easily the words left his mouth. If I didn't know the truth, I would have believed him. I would have felt loved. My stomach churned with disgust. But I kept the sweet smile on my face.

"You're the best boyfriend in the world," I said.

"Only for you," he whispered.

Later that night, Spencer fell asleep early. The fight with Valery must have drained him completely.

I sat in the dark living room. The emerald bag sat on the counter, glowing slightly under the streetlights shining through the window. I pulled out my phone. I opened the Notes app. I scrolled down to 'Project S'.

*Date: November 12. Gift received. Spencer claimed it. Valery knows.*

I locked the screen. The plan was working perfectly. The foundation of his lies was cracking. I just had to keep pushing.