They Cheated, I Sold Their Video For $200

Chapter 2

Back in the city, I didn't go straight to what was loosely called home. I checked into a hotel and let myself rest for a full day.

I washed off the exhaustion of the road and set down every last emotion I'd been carrying. The woman looking back at me in the mirror had red in her eyes, but her gaze was steady. Not a trace of defeat.

The next morning, I got myself together, picked up the divorce papers I'd had ready for some time, and went straight to Whitmore Capital.

The receptionist's eyes shifted the moment she saw me. She started to stammer something, clearly trying to stop me. I didn't acknowledge her. I walked right past.

Every employee in the office, familiar faces and strangers alike, stopped what they were doing as I came through. Eyes followed me from every direction—curiosity, contempt, pity, poorly concealed satisfaction. Whispers rose and fell around me like a low hum I couldn't quite shake.

"That's Mr. Whitmore's wife, right? I heard she sold the video of him and Vanessa online. That's cold."

"No kidding. And apparently Vanessa was her best friend. Talk about a slap in the face."

"Mr. Whitmore really did this to himself, didn't he? Can't keep his hands to himself and now look."

I tuned all of it out and walked in my heels, one step at a time, straight to his office door. I knocked.

"Come in," he called, impatience already in his voice.

I pushed the door open. He wasn't alone. Vanessa was there too, in a white dress, eyes rimmed red, leaning against him and crying softly, the picture of someone who had been terribly wronged. When she saw me, her body went rigid for a moment. Then she dropped her head and dabbed at the corner of her eye, looking fragile and pitiful.

Ethan's expression darkened the instant he saw me. "What are you doing here? Haven't you embarrassed me enough?"

I walked to his desk and dropped the divorce papers onto it. The paper hit the wood with a clean, sharp sound that cut right through the room's performance.

"Divorce," I said, looking straight at him, each word deliberate. "And you walk away with nothing."

He stared at me like I'd said something absurd, then shoved himself to his feet, both hands flat on the desk, looking down at me. "Walk away with nothing? Are you out of your mind? You think you have any ground to stand on?"

I held his gaze without flinching. "I think I do.

"The seed money for your company came from me. Every time this company hit a wall over the past three years, I was the one who pulled strings and called in favors and connections to get you through it. And on top of all that, you were cheating during the marriage with my best friend, which makes you the guilty party. Is that enough?"

Each word landed like a blow. His face cycled through shades of pale and green, his mouth opening and closing with nothing to say.

Then Vanessa stood up. She came toward me and took my hand, her voice breaking, every inch of her performing remorse. "Olivia, I'm so sorry. It was all my fault, I was the one who threw myself at him, I couldn't control how I felt. Please don't blame Ethan. Don't divorce him because of me. I don't want to be the reason your marriage falls apart. If you two can work things out, I'll leave this city right now and you'll never have to see me again."

Tears slid down her face as she spoke. Anyone who didn't know better might have actually believed she was a woman of deep, tragic feeling.

I looked into her eyes—all that fake sincerity—and pulled my hand back. A cold smile found my lips. "Alright."

She blinked, clearly not expecting that. Something flickered in her expression.

"Go ahead and disappear, then," I said. "But even if you do, Ethan still answers for what he did. You were both in that bed. You're both on that video. So you both live with the consequences. Whatever you thought you were doing just now, Vanessa, it wasn't going to work on me."

The color drained from her face. The tears stopped. She stood there, completely at a loss.

Ethan was shaking with anger and had just opened his mouth when someone knocked on the office door. His assistant stepped in, looking rushed. "Mr. Whitmore, the board is all here. The conference room is ready whenever you are."

He drew a slow breath and swallowed the rage, but not before shooting me a look that could have cut glass.

I glanced between the two of them—one humiliated and furious, one white as a sheet. The sight was deeply satisfying.

I picked up my bag from the desk and turned to go.

"Don't think this is over, Olivia!" His voice followed me, thick with threat. "You'll regret this!"

I paused and looked back at him, my expression cool, a faint smile of contempt at the corner of my mouth. "I'll be waiting. But I'd strongly suggest you sign that papers, Ethan. You really don't want to find out what happens if you don't."