He Slept With Her In My House I Made It His Worst Mistake Chapter 03

He Slept With Her In My House I Made It His Worst Mistake Chapter 03

The next morning at work, Bradley acted like nothing had happened.

He dropped a milk and a breakfast sandwich on my desk like it was any other day.

“I thought about yesterday all night,” he said. “I was wrong. Chloe’s just a coworker. Believe it or don’t, it won’t happen again.”

I took a sip of the milk and said nothing.

He took my silence as forgiveness.

It wasn’t.

I just wasn’t ready to confront him yet.

I needed more.

At two in the afternoon, my coworker Mark Simmons texted me.

[Vivian, quick question. Bradley’s been hanging around the mall looking at necklaces. I’ve run into him twice. Your anniversary coming up?]

I stared at the message.

Our anniversary was in November.

It was July.

[Maybe.] I replied.

Then I put my phone down.

A few months ago, I might have believed it. Thought he was planning a surprise. Let myself soften.

But that version of me was gone.

There was another woman’s shoes in my house. The password to our home was her birthday. Four months. Three times a week.

Soft?

Not a chance.

After work, I did something.

While Bradley was in the shower, I opened his tablet. His tablet and phone were synced. Messages included.

It didn’t take long to find his chat with Mark.

I scrolled to July 15. Two days ago.

Bradley: [Do me a favor. Tell Vivian you saw me looking at necklaces at the mall. Say it’s for our anniversary.]

Mark: [Got it.]

Bradley: [Don’t tell her I asked you to say that.]

Mark: [I know.]

I took a screenshot.

Saved it in a folder.

Page two.

I kept scrolling.

Then I found a chat labeled “C. Bennett.”

Not a saved contact. An Instagram DM.

The most recent message.

Bradley: [My wife made a scene yesterday. It’s fine. I handled it. I changed the password.]

Chloe: [She won’t find out, right?]

Bradley: [Relax. She doesn’t know how to check this stuff.]

She doesn’t know how to check this stuff.

I read that line twice.

Then I screenshotted it, closed the tablet, and put it back exactly where it had been.

When he came out of the bathroom, I was on the couch watching TV.

“Weekend tomorrow,” he said casually. “Want to go out for barbecue?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll cook at home.”

“Do whatever you want.”

He thought I was sulking.

I wasn’t.

I was waiting.