My Husband’s Affair My Public Payback

After the gala, we made a tactful early exit, leaving the younger employees to enjoy the rest of their night.

The moment I got into the car, I noticed the passenger seat had been moved.

And there, stuck to the corners of the sun visor, were several cutesy cartoon stickers.

Besides me, no one dared treat Liam like a chauffeur. And no one would be audacious enough to claim the front passenger seat as their own.

I knew instantly who they belonged to.

A sudden, white-hot rage surged through me.

I hated to admit it, but in that moment, I was so provoked I felt a prickling heat spread across my scalp as my reason began to fray.

Even when I knew Liam had given Sophia a design I'd created, I'd only mourned the loss of a good idea.

But this—her leaving a mark in my personal space—was a blatant provocation.

In five years of marriage, I had never been this furious.

I wanted to slap Liam, kick him out of the car, then hunt down Sophia and give her a piece of my mind.

I was about to open my mouth when his phone rang.

Utterly oblivious to my fury, Liam calmly answered Sophia's call.

I yanked at the seat adjuster in frustration as I heard him say:

"Okay, don't worry. I'll be right there."

My hand froze. I slowly lifted my head and stared at him.

Liam frowned slightly. "Sophia's at the department store trying to return the jewelry. She doesn't have the receipt, so I need to go."

"Chloe, I'll have the driver come get you. You head home first."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You're going to leave me here for something so trivial?"

"Chloe, can you please not make this so difficult? The girl has a lot of pride. After what you pulled, she cried until her voice was raw. All she wants is to return the jewelry."

"Is it pride, or is she just trying to provoke me by playing the victim? Can't she return it herself?"

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing in exasperation. "Chloe, what's the point of bullying a newcomer?"

"When did you become so petty? You were never like this before."

The towering rage from moments before vanished, doused by a cold, endless wave of disappointment.

Suddenly, the whole situation felt absurd.

"I'm being petty?"

"Liam, you have never defended another woman to me. Not even your own mother. This is a first."

A flicker of confusion crossed Liam's stern face.

"When we got married, we made a pact for our families' sake: no infidelity from you, no staying out all night from me. Are you really going to break it for her?"

Liam's gaze was deep and cold.

He was quiet for a long moment before finally dialing the family driver.

Then, he leaned over to unbuckle my seatbelt, his tone chillingly calm.

"Chloe, you're always so assertive. We're husband and wife, not just business partners. Outside of work, can't you be more like other wives? Can't you rely on me, yield to me, just a little?"

"After I handle this with Sophia, I'm going to my parents' place on Long Island for the night. We both need to cool down."

So that was it.

He was desperate to find his masculine pride in another woman's arms.

But he used to say he admired my decisiveness, my take-charge attitude.

He was just tired of me. Bored.

Why invent such a self-righteous excuse and try to pin the blame on me?

Without another word, I got out of the car and watched the black Maserati disappear down the street.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my best friend.

"Olivia, prepare the divorce papers."

I would never have considered divorcing Liam unless it was the absolute last resort.

Our families were both old-money New York dynasties, and we had been childhood sweethearts.

But he went to study in the UK, and we lost touch for a decade.

We met again at a banquet where our families were orchestrating our arranged marriage.

He was polite and poised, charming the elders with ease.

And I, when not running my company, had spent my fair share of nights blowing off steam in Manhattan's clubs.

I thought we'd be distant, awkward.

But when we were alone, I discovered a witty, humorous man hidden beneath that composed exterior.

It rekindled the easy familiarity of our youth.

We were both at the height of our careers, we admired each other, and we were engaged and married in short order.

After the wedding, we exchanged shares in each other's companies, with my design firm and his tech company forming an unprecedented partnership.

Divorce, and the division of our assets, would be an absolute nightmare.

Back home, I showered, drank a glass of warm milk, and got ready for bed.

A good-night message from Liam popped up on my phone.

Followed by a cute kissing emoji.

Even in a cold war, he still went through the motions.