The Midnight Show That Ended with My Husband’s Affair Chapter 08

The Midnight Show That Ended with My Husband’s Affair Chapter 08 The Unmasking of Her Lies

Flynn frantically plugged the hard drive into another computer and opened a series of hidden følders, restored by technical means.

“Look at these chat logs! This is Summer’s private group chat with her closest friends in the department. She deleted them three months ago, but they’ve been fully recovered.”

On the screen, line after line of d’mning messages appeared.

[Summer: That old-fashioned professor is so easy to fool. I acted pathetic today, and he put his coat right on me.]

[Friend: Summer, his wife is a famous host. Can you really mess with her?]

[Summer: So what if she’s a host? Just an old woman. Tonight is her final show. Watch me destroy her. I’ll call in and play the innocent victim to provoke her. If she slips up on air, I’ll hire trolls to clip the recording and post it everywhere-say she bullied me!]

Spencer’s blood turned to ice.

Flynn’s fingers flew across the keyboard. He pulled up a bank statement and an audio file.

“Spencer, listen to this!”

He played the recording-Summer’s voice in the back room of an underground bar, negotiating with a troll farm operator.

“Take that recording of Lena, cut it to make her look guilty, and buy a trending topic for half a million dollars. I want her destroyed-completely humiliated online.”

“And another thing.” Summer’s recorded voice let out a cold laugh.

“I heard that b*tch is pregnant. Tomorrow I’ll go to the campus lake and fake a suicide attempt. Professor Whitmore always falls for that act.”

“I’ll make sure that b*tch watches from her hospital bed-watches how that bastard in her belly gets left alone at home and turns into a puddle of blood.”

Spencer kicked the office chair in front of him, sending it flying.

The heavy chair smashed against the wall. “Fake… all of it fake!”

He had been played by a female student he thought needed his protection. Like a monkey on a string.

She never had depression.

The panic attack at the campus lake was staged.

The self-harm behavior in the ER was staged.

With her fake illness, with a few crocodile tears, she had shredded his judgment.

She had tricked him into smashing Lena’s career, freezing Lena’s accounts, and abandoning Lena at the very moment she was hemorrhaging and miscarrying-when she needed him most.

“Summer Vance.”

A murderous fury erupted from every pore of his body. He spun around and stormed out of the controi room with long, furious strides.

Thirty minutes later. The private patient wing.

Summer Vance lay in a soft hospital bed, wearing an oversized patient gown.

For three months, she had been living here on the pretext that she needed quiet recovery from trauma. She had enjoyed the best medical resources Spencer had paid for-a room that cost thousands a day.

The heavy door to her room was kicked clean off its hinges.

It slammed against the wall. Summer shrieked in terror.

She looked up. Spencer stood there, radiating violence. His coat was still dusted with snow from outside. Blood dripped from his knuckles. He walked toward her one step at a time.

“Professor… Professor Whitmore?”

Summer’s face went white. She was terrified, but years of practice kicked in. She immediately put on a mask of pitiful vulnerability.

She curled up against the headboard, clutching her chest, her voice trembling.

“Professor Whitmore… you finally came to see me… that noise scared me so much… my heart is racing….I think my panic attack is coming back…”

Out of habit, she reached out to grab the hem of his coat.

“Oh, you should be scared.”

Spencer wasted no words. He lunged forward, raised his powerful leg, and stomped on the heavy bed frame.

Summer screamed. Before she could react, his hand closed around her throat.

He pinned her against the wall.

“Ugh… cough…

Summer’s face turned purple. Her legs kicked wildly in the air.

She clawed at his arm with both hands.

“Professor… what are you doing… let go… I can’t breathe…”

She squeezed out a few tears.

“It hurts… you’re hurting me…”

“You’re still pretending!”

Spencer’s eyes were blood red. The killing intent in them could have frozen the air solid.

He stared at the face he had once believed was innocent.

“You are not sick!”

His roar shook the entire room.

He shoved the digital recorder in his other hand against Summer’s face and pressed play at full volume.

“I’ll make sure that b*tch watches from her hospital bed-watches how that bastard in her belly gets left alone at home and turns into a puddle of blood!”

Summer’s laughter exploded from the speakers.

Summer’s pupils dilated. “No… that’s not real… Professor, let me explain… someone forged that!”

She shook her head wildly, her voice distorting with fear.

“Forged?”

Spencer let out a terrible laugh.

“With your fake fragility. With your forged chat logs. You murdered my eight-week-old child! You tricked me into forcing Lena out of her hospital bed! You tricked me into destroying my wife’s career! You tricked me into cutting off her every way out-using the most despicable means!”

Spencer’s hand tightened. His knuckles went white.

He looked at the woman whose face was now twisted from strangulation. A wave of nausea hit him.

“You disgust me. You are not fit to speak her name. Not in this life. Not in any life.”

Just as Summer’s eyes began to roll back-

Spencer suddenly released his grip.

Summer crashed to the floor. She lay there, clutching her throat, coughing violently like a dying dog.