That night, I said nothing to Solomon.
Two days later, I was scheduled to fly out for a two-day business conference. The conference, however, had been shifted to a virtual format at the last minute. I intentionally kept that detail to myself.
I packed my suit bag, loaded it into my car, and drove to my office parking garage. I left my vehicle there and took a cab back to my neighborhood, slipping through the side gate just as dusk fell. Theo was safely spending the night at my parents’ house.
At 9:40 P.M., Jennifer’s car pulled into the driveway.
She wasn’t carrying a briefcase or a laptop. She was carrying an overnight duffel bag.
I waited five minutes, then unlocked the front door with my key.
The house smelled of expensive wine and candle wax. In the kitchen, two glasses sat on the island alongside a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries. Jennifer was leaning against the counter wearing my silk white robe. Solomon stood beside her, his shirt completely unbuttoned.
Solomon turned, his face going completely ash-white. “Natalie… you’re supposed to be out of town.”
“And according to the text you sent me ten minutes ago, you were supposed to be fast asleep,” I said smoothly.
Jennifer panicked, trying to hurry toward the hallway.
“Leave the robe,” I said, my tone cutting through the room like a razor blade.
Jennifer shed the silk robe instantly, grabbed her purse, and bolted out the front door without saying another word.
Left alone, Solomon’s shock quickly morphed into defensive anger. He slammed his hand against the kitchen island. “Alright, fine! Stop making a grand production out of this!”
“The production started eighteen months ago, Solomon.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did my mother talk to you?”
“She did.”
Realizing the game was entirely up, Solomon stopped denying it. He boasted that he loved Jennifer, claimed his marriage to me had been “dead for years,” and accused me of caring more about my corporate job than my home.
Then he uttered something even more delusional.
“Tomorrow we’ll sit down with lawyers and figure out how we’re dividing the assets,” Solomon stated, leaning against the counter.
“What assets?”
“The house, for starters.”
I almost laughed. “This house belongs to my father.”
“I’ve lived here for seven years!” Solomon snapped. “I’ve put money into this place! Don’t think for a second you can just throw me out onto the street with a suitcase!”
