Ex-Wife's Revenge, Billionaire's Temptation

The vibrant sunlight filtered through the curtains as I bustled around the house, a smile tugging at my lips. Today marked one year since Ethan and I vowed to share our lives. I couldn't wait for him to return from the office and see what I had prepared.

I had planned this day for weeks—no grand gestures, just a homemade cake and an evening to ourselves. As I mixed the ingredients for his favorite vanilla almond cake, my mind wandered to the small, simple joys we shared. The stolen kisses, his hearty laughter when we danced, and the comfort of quiet nights spent together.

The cake was perfect. As I frosted it with "Happy Anniversary" in delicate loops, I moved to our room to prepare for the night ahead. With a simple banner in place, I imagined his surprised face when he saw it.

Over the last few months, Ethan's work had kept him busy, and we hadn't spent much time together. Tonight would be different. It would be like our wedding night—slow and gentle or hot and intense. Either way, it would be our time.

Opening the bedside drawer to retrieve the candles I had stored, my hand paused mid-air.

It wasn't the candles that caught my attention—it was the box of condoms beside them. My brows furrowed as I pulled it out. The packaging was new, shiny, and unfamiliar. My stomach churned as I checked the expiration date.

The realization hit like a sledgehammer: this box hadn't been here before. Ethan and I hadn't had sex in two months—his workload and stress, he claimed, had dampened his energy. So why…?

My pulse quickened, and I sank onto the bed, clutching the box. Memories flashed before me, jumbled and suffocating. Ethan's late-night texts he claimed were to his colleagues. The cologne lingering on his shirts that I didn't recognize. My chest tightened with each fragment that fell into place, forming a picture I wasn't ready to see.

Desperate for clarity, my mind seized on an idea: the surveillance camera. Worried about our cat, Luna's safety, I had insisted on installing the camera to keep an eye on her when we were away.

Ethan didn't share my affection for cats and had pushed to give her away, but I couldn't bear the thought. So, I set up the surveillance myself, telling myself it would help ease my concerns. Even after I'd given Luna to a friend, I never deactivated the camera. Somehow, I'd forgotten it was still there.

With trembling hands, I reactivated the camera, syncing it to my phone. A live feed flickered to life. The empty living room stared back at me, silent and unassuming.

My heart was pounding quickly and painfully, and tears was prickling the back of my eyes, but I needed to act quickly. I sent Ethan a text, my fingers barely steady:

"Something urgent came up at work. I'll be home late. Don't wait up."

Dragging in a deep breath, I pulled myself together, slipped into my coat, returned to the kitchen, packed the cake in a box, and left. I drove to the nearest hotel, my mind a cacophony of disbelief and dread. Checking in felt surreal, as though I were floating outside my body.

The hours dragged as I sat on the bed, the cake untouched beside me. My eyes stayed glued to the screen, watching the feed with bated breath. Each creak of the house, each passing shadow made my heart lurch.

And then, the front door opened.

Ethan stepped inside, his arm wrapped around a woman. My breath caught in my throat as I watched them stumble over the threshold, their bodies tangled in a way that left no room for misinterpretation. His lips devoured hers, his hands roaming her with a hunger I hadn't seen in months.

A hunger I had never seen at all…..

Nausea rose as I recognized the ease in their movements, the familiarity in their touch. This wasn't new.

And then I saw her face.

"Lily," I whispered, the name a dagger slicing through my chest.

My best friend.

She was snickering, her lips swollen from Ethan's kisses as they moved toward the couch. Her fingers curled into his hair, and he groaned in response, his hands gripping her thighs.

I wanted to look away. I couldn't. It was like I had been compelled to watch, to suffer.

Memories of Lily flooded my mind—the late-night conversations, the secrets we'd shared. The time she'd thrown me a surprise bridal shower and gushed about how lucky I was to have Ethan. I had even shared my concern about Ethan's workload with her.

Hot tears blurred my vision as I watched her lean back, pulling Ethan down on top of her. Their laughter echoed through the living room, a mockery of everything I thought was sacred.

The betrayal was suffocating, a tidal wave crashing over me. My hands shook as I turned off the feed, throwing the phone onto the bed as if it burned me. The silence of the hotel room was deafening, pressing down on me as I tried to process what I'd just seen.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

The cake sat on the desk, its cheery "Happy Anniversary" mocking me with every glance.

My mind raced with questions, accusations, and fragments of every moment I'd ever trusted Ethan and Lily. How long had this been happening? Was I blind, or did they hide it so well that I never stood a chance?

My phone vibrated, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. A text from Ethan.

"Hope your work isn't too stressful. I'll wait up for you."

I stared at the screen, bile rising in my throat. Lies. Every word he'd ever spoken to me was a lie.