The Mistress's Watch, My Vengeance

My husband, Cameron, stole my father's last gift to me-a one-of-a-kind watch.

I found it on the wrist of his mistress, Kenda, during a video call where she thanked him for the gift and their "late nights."

When I confronted him, he tried to gaslight me, using the years of painful, humiliating fertility treatments I endured as a weapon.

"You've been under a lot of stress lately," he said, a cruel glint in his eye.

He had convinced me I was barren, all while he was stealing from my family's foundation to fund her life. He even told her the watch was too ostentatious for me.

The affair was a sting, but the calculated cruelty of his deception was a mortal wound. He made me believe I was broken.

My grief turned to ice. I walked out of my study, leaving him stammering, and picked up my secure phone.

I made a single call to the only man I trusted.

"Gunner," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "I need you."

Chapter 1

Julia Warren POV:

The familiar thud of the antique mahogany door closing behind me usually signaled the end of my day, the moment I could finally shed the "Iron Queen" persona. But today, the silence felt heavy, suffocating. I walked past the open study door. That was my first mistake.

Cameron was there, in my study, the one room in this house that was unequivocally mine. He was on a video call, his face animated, his usual charm turned up to eleven.

I stopped short, the scent of his expensive cologne, mixed with something vaguely floral and unfamiliar, hitting me. I watched him for a beat, my hand still on the strap of my designer bag.

"Darling?" he purred into the screen, his smile too wide, too bright. "Yes, of course, I'll make sure it's expedited. Julia understands the… urgency of these humanitarian efforts."

He glanced at me then, a flicker of something, guilt or calculation, in his eyes before his smile re-cemented. He gestured for me to join him, to be part of his performance.

I walked in, my heels clicking softly on the polished wood floor. I didn' t sit. I just stood beside him, a silent sentinel. I felt a prickle of annoyance. This was my private space.

"Kenda," he said, turning the laptop slightly so I was in view. "This is my wife, Julia. Julia, this is Kenda Perez, the incredible woman leading our new initiative."

I offered a polite, practiced smile. Kenda smiled back, a dazzling, almost aggressive smile. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail.

Then I saw it.

On her wrist, glinting under the soft light of the video call, was a watch. Not just any watch. It was a prototype smartwatch, rose gold with a sapphire face, designed by my father. A one-of-a-kind piece. A gift he' d given me, months before he died. It had gone missing from my jewelry box, and I'd grieved its loss more than I'd admit.

My smile faltered. The polite mask cracked.

"Kenda, that's a beautiful watch," I said, my voice flat, almost toneless. Every nerve ending in my body tightened.

Kenda' s smile wavered. She glanced at Cameron, a tiny, almost imperceptible shift in her eyes. Cameron' s easy charm faltered. His hand twitched, reaching towards the laptop to close it.

"Oh, this old thing?" Kenda laughed, a brittle sound. "Just a little something Cameron gave me. A token of appreciation for all the late nights."

My blood ran cold. Late nights?

"I see," I said, the words barely a whisper. My gaze locked onto the watch, then back to Cameron. His eyes were wide, panicked. He knew. He knew I knew.

"Julia, darling, Kenda was just presenting her proposal for the new grant," Cameron interjected, his voice too loud, too forced. "A significant amount, but for such a worthy cause."

The "worthy cause" funding request felt like a slap in the face. He was asking for an exorbitant sum for her, the woman wearing my father's watch, who was having "late nights" with my husband.

My mind, usually a whirlwind of data and strategy, went unnervingly quiet. Only the image of that watch, shining on her wrist, replayed itself.

"Yes, the grant," I finally said, my voice steady, betraying none of the tremor in my hands. "I'll look into it, Cameron."

I didn't need to look into it. I knew all I needed to know.

I turned and walked out of the study, leaving Cameron fumbling with the laptop, his panicked apologies muffled by the closing door. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild, frantic drumbeat.

The watch. It wasn't just a watch. It was a piece of my father, a piece of me. And it was on her wrist.

I walked straight to my secure phone, my fingers flying across the keypad. One number. The only number I trusted implicitly.

"Gunner," I said, my voice a dangerous calm. "I need you."