The Christmas Feast That Exposed His Affair

I didn't sleep at all that night, and I lay there staring into the darkness until morning came.

It wasn't until then that I heard the fingerprint lock at the door, and Finnick walked in, his body weighed down with fatigue, the exhaustion in his eyes obvious.

"I'm sorry, honey. I worked late last night, and I have another project tonight, so I won't be coming home."

He spoke so naturally that anyone would've believed him.

Exhausted? More like worn out in bed.

What I had seen last night was burned into my mind, but I didn't let it show on my face and merely gave a faint hum in response.

I even stepped forward to take his coat, acting exactly the way I always had, because I knew it wasn't the time to confront him yet.

Once I steadied myself, I pulled up the information the private investigator had sent me.

Yvonne was planning to commission a batch of high-end jewelry in the next few days, and it just so happened that I owned a jewelry design studio with a decent reputation.

Using the studio account, I followed her on Instagram, and she accepted the request almost immediately.

The moment I explained why I was reaching out, a voice message came through, dripping with disdain.

"A small studio like yours thinks it can design jewelry for me? My husband spoils me. I only ever wear high-end pieces. I don't just throw on whatever."

Every word was meant to show off how much Finnick spoiled her.

My stomach turned, and I had to grip my phone tightly just to keep the anger from spilling over.

I forced myself to calm down and typed out a series of compliments, praising her looks and her elegance, telling her she clearly carried herself like someone deeply loved.

Then, I sent over samples of custom pieces my studio had created for A-list celebrities, knowing that people like her would always fall for that.

Sure enough, her attitude softened, and her tone became noticeably more relaxed.

I took the chance to click on her Instagram.

As I scrolled, it felt like my heart was splintering.

Almost every post featured gifts from Finnick, including limited-edition bags, rare jewelry, and even keys to luxury cars, each one paired with captions filled with happiness and pride.

Finnick's business had grown significantly, but I had grown up around it and knew exactly how hard it was to make money.

I only bought luxury items occasionally, just enough to keep up appearances, and I had never been willing to spend large amounts of cash just to pile up things like that.

Finnick, on the other hand, had always told me, in that calm, reasonable tone of his, that love wasn't measured by money and didn't need to be proven with material things.

It turned out that it wasn't that he didn't like spending money. He just chose to spend it on someone else.

The pain in my chest tightened again, sharper than before.

While Yvonne kept going on about how generous he was, I stared at those messages until the last trace of warmth in my eyes faded, knowing that every dollar she spent would come back to me, with interest, down to the last cent.