Natalie stared at my phone.

For several seconds, she didn’t move.

Then she reached across the table.

“Delete it.”

I pulled my phone away.

“Too late.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Her confidence disappeared.

She immediately grabbed her own phone and began calling someone.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Nobody answered.

I calmly finished my coffee.

“You should probably call Victor too.”

Natalie looked up.

“You think you’ve won?”

“No.”

I picked up my bag.

“I think your husband deserves the same information you were so eager to give me.”

I walked out.

My hands only began trembling once I reached the street.

Revenge sounded satisfying until you actually pressed send.

Then came consequences.

Twenty minutes later, Victor called.

I watched his name flash across the screen.

I didn’t answer.

He called again.

And again.

On the sixth call, I finally picked up.

“What?”

“Where are you?”

His voice was furious.

“Why?”

“What did you send Andrew?”

So Natalie had contacted him.

“That was quick.”

“Answer me!”

I almost laughed.

“You’re very concerned about another man’s marriage.”

“Naomi—”

“My name is Elena.”

Silence.

He had called me by Natalie’s name.

Victor realized it too.

“Elena, listen—”

I hung up.

That single mistake hurt more than the screenshots.

Eight years.

And when panic stripped away his performance, another woman’s name came out.

That evening, Victor returned from his supposed Hangzhou business trip two days early.

He stormed into the house.

“Where’s Leo?”

“At my mother’s.”

“Good.”

He threw his phone onto the table.

“What were you thinking?”

I looked at him.

For years, I had seen Victor angry about traffic, business, money and minor inconveniences.

I had always tried to calm him.

This time I felt strangely detached.

“You transferred $870,000 to Natalie.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Then simplify it.”

“She was helping with an investment.”

“Does investing require hotel rooms?”

His face stiffened.

“You investigated me?”

“No.”

I smiled.

“Your girlfriend investigated you for me.”

He frowned.

I showed him her first message.

Then the screenshots she had proudly sent.

Victor’s expression slowly changed.

“She sent you these?”

“Every one.”

I watched something ugly dawn on him.

Natalie hadn’t contacted me merely because she loved him.

She wanted to force his divorce.

And Victor was only now realizing it.

“She said you loved her.”

“Elena—”

“Did you?”

He rubbed his forehead.

“I made mistakes.”

I laughed.

“That’s an interesting way to describe maintaining another relationship and buying her a house.”

“The money wasn’t entirely mine.”

That sentence made me still.

“What?”

Victor stopped.

Too late.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“No.”

I walked closer.

“You said the money wasn’t entirely yours.”

His eyes shifted away.

Our joint account.

The company.

The property.

Suddenly, the affair stopped being my only concern.

“How much money have you moved?”

“Don’t turn this into something else.”

“It already is something else.”

He reached for my hand.

I stepped back.

“Don’t touch me.”

His face hardened.

“I am Leo’s father.”

“And?”

“You can’t simply destroy this family because you’re angry.”

I stared at him.

Then I finally understood something.

Victor wasn’t ashamed.

He was frightened.

Not of losing me.

Of what I might discover.

My phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered.

A man’s voice spoke.

“Mrs. Zhou?”

“Yes.”

“Andrew Miller.”

I looked directly at Victor.

His face changed.

Andrew continued:

“I received your email.”

“I assumed you would.”

“I think we should meet.”

Victor stepped toward me.

I moved away.

Andrew’s next sentence stopped both of us.

“There are things about those transfers you don’t know.”

I tightened my grip on the phone.

“What things?”

“Not over the phone.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Victor shook his head sharply.

I ignored him.

Andrew gave me an address.

After the call ended, Victor said:

“You’re not meeting him.”

It was almost funny.

“You stopped having authority over my personal relationships when you started financing Natalie’s secret property.”

“You don’t understand Andrew.”

“And you apparently understand his wife extremely well.”

“Elena.”

I walked upstairs.

“Sleep somewhere else.”

The next morning, I met Andrew at his office.

He looked nothing like the devastated husband I had imagined.

He was calm.

Prepared.

There was already a folder on the table.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He shook his head.

“You didn’t betray me.”

Then he pushed the folder toward me.

“I’ve suspected Natalie for months.”

Inside were company records.

Bank transfers.

Contracts.

I recognized Victor’s signature.

“What is this?”

“Your husband’s company has been moving money through three shell companies.”

I stared at him.

“What does that have to do with Natalie?”

“One of them is registered under her name.”

My stomach tightened.

Andrew turned another page.

“And this one is registered under yours.”

I stopped breathing.

“My name?”

I read it again.

Elena Zhou.

Director.

Beneficial owner.

My identification number was there.

My old signature too.

“That isn’t possible.”

“Have you signed financial documents for Victor in the past?”

Of course I had.

Insurance.

Tax forms.

Business paperwork he brought home because he was too busy to explain.

“Sometimes.”

Andrew nodded grimly.

“My wife did the same.”

He pointed toward the $870,000 transfer.

“That wasn’t a romantic gift.”

“What?”

“It was money being moved out before an audit.”

Everything inside me went cold.

“The note said it was for a house.”

“A convenient cover.”

I remembered Victor’s panic.

Not because Andrew discovered the affair.

Because I had accidentally connected two households that were never supposed to compare records.

Andrew leaned back.

“I believe our spouses weren’t only having an affair.”

He looked directly at me.

“They were using both of us.”

My phone rang.

The school.

My heart immediately jumped.

I answered.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Zhou, Leo’s father came to collect him.”

I stood so quickly my chair scraped the floor.

“What?”

“He said there was a family emergency.”

My blood ran cold.

“I never authorized that.”

There was silence.

Then the teacher sounded confused.

“But Mr. Zhou is listed as his father. They left about twenty minutes ago.”

I called Victor.

No answer.

Again.

Nothing.

Then a message arrived.

Victor.

It contained only one sentence:

“Stop meeting Andrew and come home if you want to discuss Leo.”

Andrew saw my expression.

“What happened?”

“Victor took my son.”

I grabbed my bag.

But before I reached the door, another message arrived.

This one was from Natalie.

A photograph.

Victor stood beside a black car.

Leo was next to him.

And Natalie was visible in the passenger seat.

Underneath, she had written:

“You should have stayed out of our business.”

My hands went numb.

Then Andrew’s phone rang.

He answered.

His expression changed immediately.

“What?”

He slowly looked at me.

After several seconds, he ended the call.

“What is it?”

He didn’t answer.

“Andrew.”

“The property you thought Victor bought Natalie…”

He turned his laptop toward me.

“…was sold this morning.”

“So?”

“The money wasn’t transferred to Natalie.”

A bank record appeared.

Recipient:

LEO ZHOU FAMILY TRUST.

My son’s name.

I stared at the screen.

Then Andrew opened the trust documents.

My heart stopped.

The trustee wasn’t Victor.

It wasn’t Natalie.

It wasn’t even me.

It was my mother.

And her signature had been placed on the document three years ago.