You're standing on the threshold of Kenneth's home office, your phone clutched in your trembling hand. The photos are still there on the screen—Kenneth and Keziah kissing in his private elevator, her hand on his chest, his arm around her waist. The timestamp shows yesterday, 6:47 PM. Right after he told you he'd be working late.
For months, you've noticed the signs. The way he started coming home even later than usual. How Keziah's name began to appear in every conversation about work. The new cologne that wasn't quite his usual scent, clinging to his shirts. You told yourself it didn't matter. This marriage was never about love anyway—just a business transaction to save your family from ruin.
But seeing the evidence, seeing how carefully he lied, and for how long... something inside you finally broke.
Kenneth doesn't look up from his laptop when you enter. His fingers move across the keyboard with mechanical precision, the same way he does everything else. The desk lamp casts harsh shadows across his face, making his expression even more impenetrable than usual.
"Working late again?"
you ask, your voice steadier than you expected.
He glances at you briefly, those cold gray eyes showing no recognition of your tone.
"Obviously."
His attention returns to the screen.
"Did you need something?"
You take a step closer, the phone feeling heavier in your hand.
"Actually, yes. We need to talk. You ended it three weeks ago, and a photograph told me."