My Lawyer Wife Destroyed Evidence for Her Ex—So I Sent Them Both to Prison

I scoffed.

"The feeling is mutual. You've disappointed me just as much."

Seeing my cold demeanor, Hailey took a deep breath, her tone softening instantly.

"Husband, I know you're angry. You blame me for destroying the evidence you worked so hard to collect, but I truly did it for your own good."

She stepped closer, voice pleading. "Think about it. If you actually sent Wyatt to prison, do you think his partners and stakeholders would let you off the hook? I know you've always kept business and personal matters separate, but for once, you have to consider our family."

Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke.

"I had to beg Wyatt. That was the only reason he agreed not to come after you. Do you know how much I suffered? How many cold shoulders I endured? Instead of comforting me, you blame me..."

The tears fell faster now—a practiced escalation.

She knew my weakness. She knew I could never stand seeing her cry. In the past, her tears were my command; no matter the request, I would have agreed to anything to make them stop.

But the past was dead. I watched her performance with a stony expression.

Hailey sniffled, wiped her face, and produced an invitation from her bag.

"Tomorrow night is the gala for Wyatt's company IPO. Come with me. Drink a glass of wine, apologize to him, and we can put this whole mess behind us." She looked up at me with wide, wet eyes. "I'm begging you, okay?"

You want me to apologize?

The audacity nearly made me laugh. I forced the rage down and nodded. "Fine. We'll do it your way."

I won't be apologizing. But I will be delivering a gift. To him, and to you.

Hailey smiled through her tears, relief washing over her face.

"I knew you'd see reason, husband."

She turned and practically skipped out of the room. "I'll tell Wyatt right now to pull the negative press online."

I watched her leave, my gaze turning icy. Once she was gone, I dialed Alfred.

"Is the team in place? I want the evidence chain reconstructed before tomorrow night." I paused, voice dropping. "And Alfred... prepare the divorce papers."

The following evening, Hailey emerged in a sleek black gown that left her back and shoulders bare. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, lips painted a fiery red. She looked stunning.

"Husband, I'm ready."

She turned, pausing when she saw me still on the sofa. A frown marred her features.

"Why haven't you changed yet?"

I was still in casual loungewear.

Her tone turned critical. "Tonight is the celebration gala for Wyatt's IPO. Every major player in the city will be there. You can't go like that."

"Why? Afraid I'll embarrass you?"

Hailey quickly backpedaled. "No! My husband is handsome in anything. It's just... it looks disrespectful. Wyatt won't appreciate it."

She gestured to the bedroom. "Please, change into something formal."

I stood, smoothing my shirt. "No need."

Tonight is Wyatt's last taste of glory. He won't need "face" where he's going.

When we arrived at the venue, Wyatt was stationed at the entrance, greeting guests like a king holding court. His eyes lit up when he saw Hailey, and he walked over quickly.

"Hailey, you look breathtaking."

Ignoring me entirely, he took her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to her knuckles, shooting me a provocative glance.

Pathetic.

I couldn't be bothered to react.

Hailey blushed but didn't withdraw her hand.

"Wyatt, I brought Henry. He's here to congratulate you, and to apologize."

"Apologize?"

Wyatt's smile was full of hidden meaning as he looked me up and down.

"Forgive my bluntness, but Henry's attire doesn't exactly scream 'sincerity.'"

Hailey's expression stiffened. Before she could defend me, Wyatt cut in with a magnanimous wave. "But since you asked, of course I have to give face."

Wyatt snapped his fingers.

A waiter appeared instantly, bearing a silver tray with two glasses of red wine.

"Henry." Wyatt's voice oozed false magnanimity. "Drink this, and we wipe the slate clean. Separate paths from here on out. Water under the bridge."

"Exactly," Hailey chimed in, her smile strained. "A toast to bury old grudges."

She kept shooting me meaningful looks, silently begging me to play along.

I ignored her.

Wyatt lifted one glass in a mock toast. Then, with theatrical clumsiness, he stumbled forward. Wine splashed across the front of my suit.

"Ah! Sorry." His tone held zero apology. "Hand slipped."

I watched the smirk tugging at his lips. Calmly, I took the remaining glass from the tray and upended it over his head.

Dark crimson dripped down his nose and chin, staining his collar.

"Wyatt!"

Hailey shoved me aside. She grabbed a fistful of napkins, frantically dabbing at his face before whirling on me.

"Henry, are you insane?"

My voice stayed flat. "Does it pain you to see him humiliated?"

"You—" Her finger jabbed toward my face. "What happened to you? Where's the man I married?"

She didn't wait for an answer. "Just because Wyatt and I have history, you attack him at every turn? You're a grown man, not a jealous teenager. Can't you be rational for once?"

I studied the indignation burning in her eyes. The last ember of affection I held for her turned to ash.

I reached into my jacket and pulled out the document I'd prepared. Tossed it at her feet.

"You're right. I've changed." My voice went cold. "The man you knew is dead."

The papers landed softly on the carpet.

"Since I displease you so much, sign it. Then you can spend the rest of your life doting on Wyatt without guilt."