He And His Mistress Died Together

A busy tone suddenly sounded.

I stared at the darkening screen, my last shred of hope extinguished.

Alright, all the affection, all the concessions, died the moment Anastasia stopped breathing.

All that remained was revenge.

I opened my address book, found the number of the head of the internal investigation team and typed a text message: [Regarding Godfrey and Cassandra’s suspected embezzlement of public funds for travel, with attached evidence.]

Attached were screenshots of Cassandra’s WhatsApp status and the reimbursement form for Godfrey’s false travel expenses. And there was that dashcam video of him saying to Cassandra while taking a detour last night. “I’ll fly over to you as soon as I finish my family stuff.”

When the successful delivery notification popped up, the rain began to fall outside the window again, just like the day I braved the rain to run a business trip.

But this time, I was no longer the woman who got wet for him.

I wanted them to pay back what they owed me and Anastasia, bit by bit, with interest!

While sorting through Anastasia’s belongings, my fingertips brushed against her little dinosaur onesie; the fabric still lingered with a faint scent of milk.

In the frame, she smiled and held a lollipop, her eyelashes stained with stars. I reached out to touch it, but my fingertips clashed against the cold glass.

A knock on the door suddenly boomed, as rapid as a death sentence.

Through the peephole, Godfrey’s face flushed crimson. Cassandra stood beside him, her arm affectionately entwined with his, her fingers gently caressing his sleeve. I opened the door and a cold wind blew in, carrying dust from the corridor.

Cassandra seemed to have just realized what was happening. She let go of his hand, her fingertips curled at her side, an innocent smile on her face.

“Jessica, what a coincidence! I live nearby and Mr. Walters was stopping by to give me a ride.”

As she was about to leave, she reached into her designer bag and pulled out a bunch of keys. She held them between her fingers and shook them. “Mr. Walters, I left your keys with me. I’m giving them back to you.”

The peace locket hanging from the keychain was something I had asked for for Anastasia last year. Later, Godfrey said, “It’s tacky for a child,” and tossed it into a drawer.

I looked at Godfrey. His eyes evaded her for a moment. He took the keys with a hint of impatience, then waved Cassandra away.

The moment the door closed, I caught a glimpse of Cassandra’s gaze as she turned, a provocative smile on her lips. “Did you already know the company was going to investigate me?” Godfrey’s voice bombarded me, tinged with the humiliation of being caught.

“Come in if you have something to say.” I stepped aside to let him in, my eyes scanning the lingering scent of perfume on his shirt. “Don’t embarrass yourself in front of outsiders.”

“There’s nothing between Cassandra and me!” He immediately raised his voice, as if afraid the neighbors would overhear. “I just dropped her off on the way. Don’t get too carried away.”

“On the way?” I picked up Anastasia’s photo album and sneered inwardly. “From the Maldives to here. It’s quite far.”

He choked, then suddenly changed his expression, his tone threatening.

“I know you’re close to the top management. This review is serious. Help me find someone.

If anything happens to me, wouldn’t your current house and car be thanks to me? You’ll be left with nothing!”

I looked at him and suddenly laughed out loud. He probably forgot that I bought this house in full before we got married and only my name was on the title deed.

The car he drove was my father’s old Bentley, which he thought was too old, so he traded it in for a new one, which I also paid for.

He also forgot that the chairman of the international group he currently worked for was listed in my mother’s name.

Before his death, my father entrusted the company to a trust company, waiting for the official handover on my twenty-fifth birthday.