They were about to find out just how wrong they were.
By the time Ethan stumbled back into the suite later that night, I was already in bed, facing away from him. I felt the mattress shift as he climbed in beside me, his hand briefly touching my shoulder before he hesitated.
“Still awake?” His voice was low, careful.
I kept my breathing even, making him think I was asleep. He let out a quiet sigh and rolled onto his back.
“Love you,” he murmured.
The words meant nothing now.
The next morning, I moved carefully, methodically. I made breakfast. I smiled. I kissed his cheek.
He had no idea that I had spent the early hours of dawn setting the stage for his downfall.
I sent the video of Liam’s drunken confession to an anonymous email account. From there, it would be distributed strategically—to a few close friends, a few colleagues, and eventually, someone who mattered.
I wasn’t going to release everything at once. No. I wanted to watch as the foundation beneath them started to shake, little by little.
Ethan left for a meeting, completely oblivious. Liam, on the other hand, was already texting—asking if Ethan had seen the weird message someone had sent him.
Not yet, I thought.
But he will.
I spent the afternoon laying out the next phase. Ethan was obsessed with his image, with how people perceived him. That was his weakness. If I could make him feel like the world was starting to doubt him, he would panic—and panicked people made mistakes.
I made sure a few anonymous messages found their way to his office, hinting at infidelity rumors.
The video of Liam—that was just the beginning.
Because what neither of them knew was that I had more. More texts. More receipts. More proof. And I wasn’t just going to expose Ethan’s betrayal.
I was going to make sure that when everything fell apart, Liam went down with him.
By the time Ethan came home that evening, something had shifted. His usual confident stride was tighter, his eyes scanning me carefully.
“Did you hear from Liam today?” he asked casually, pouring himself a drink.
I took a sip of my tea, meeting his gaze with practiced innocence. “No. Why?”
He hesitated, swirling the glass in his hand. “Nothing. Just… some weird messages going around. Someone sent him something about me.”
I frowned, tilting my head. “That’s strange.”
He studied me for a long moment before forcing a chuckle. “Yeah. Probably nothing.”
I smiled. “Probably.”
Ethan had spent years believing he could play me like a fool. He had no idea I was the one moving the pieces now—and soon he’d have no game left to play.
His fingers drummed against the counter, his grip tightening around his glass. The flickering light above the kitchen cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the tension etched into his features.
I sipped my tea calmly, meeting his wary gaze with practiced ease.
“Did you see anything unusual today?” he asked, his voice laced with something that almost sounded like concern.
I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Unusual? Should I have?”
His jaw clenched. The faintest flicker of doubt crossed his eyes. “Just some weird messages. Nothing serious.”
I hummed, setting my cup down. “Well, if it’s nothing serious, why do you look so tense?”
He forced a chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t. Just tired, I guess.”
Liar.
I could see the tiny fractures forming—the beginning of his world slowly unraveling. He wasn’t panicking yet, but he was starting to sense something was off.
Good.
I didn’t want him to crumble too quickly. No. I wanted to watch him squirm, to feel the weight of uncertainty press down on him like an invisible noose.
The next morning, I woke up to hushed voices in the hallway. Ethan’s tone was sharp, laced with frustration. I didn’t need to hear every word to know he was talking to Liam.
I swung my legs over the bed, slipping into my robe before stepping into the doorway. Ethan stood near the window, his phone pressed to his ear.
“I don’t know where it came from, Liam. That’s the problem,” he snapped, his fingers raking through his hair. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter? Of course it matters. If someone has this, what else do they have?”
I leaned against the frame, my voice soft. “Everything okay?”
Ethan stiffened, turning sharply. His expression flickered between surprise and something else—guilt, maybe. I kept my face neutral, waiting.
He ended the call abruptly, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just work stuff. On a Sunday morning.”
I raised an eyebrow.
His laugh was forced. “You know how it is.”
I did.
I knew exactly how it was.
Over the next few days, the tension in our house became palpable. Ethan was distracted, his phone glued to his hand more than usual. Every time he thought I wasn’t looking, I saw the flickers of worry dance across his face.
And Liam… Liam was unraveling faster.
