This time they met at a coffee shop.
She brought no dramatic envelope.
Just a tablet and exhaustion.
“I owe you an explanation.”
The husband shook his head.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I called your wife before I came over.”
“She didn’t answer.”
“I went anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew he was heading to your house after nine.”
The husband looked at her.
“You knew?”
“I had access to one shared vehicle calendar.”
“She nodded.”
“He’d entered your address under ‘investor meeting.’”
The husband almost laughed.
“Subtle.”
“He stopped being subtle because nobody challenged him.”
She took a drink.
“He has been having affairs for years.”
The husband stared.
“How many?”
“I know of four.”
“Current?”
“Two, maybe.”
His stomach tightened.
“My wife knew?”
“I don’t think so.”
She turned the tablet.
Photographs.
Messages.
Not explicit.
Enough.
Different women.
Similar language.
Sweetheart.
You’re different.
We’re almost done.
Once this deal closes.
The husband felt anger on behalf of his wife despite himself.
Then hated that feeling.
The boss’s wife said:
“He finds people who are unhappy.”
“Talented.”
“Ambitious.”
“Usually subordinate to him.”
“He makes them feel indispensable.”
“Then personal.”
“Then financially connected.”
The husband looked at her.
“Financially?”
She nodded.
“That is why I said this was bigger.”