2. Camille
— ? —
Camille
Jared doesn’t come home that night.
Good. I need time.
I move through the house like a ghost, methodical and cold, heading straight for his home office.
The door is locked, but I know where he keeps the spare key, taped under that ugly decorative bowl his mother gave us.
His laptop password is pathetically predictable: his mother’s maiden name and his college jersey number.
I’ve known it for years. Never used it.
I’m not that trusting anymore.
Three hours later, I have a folder full of screenshots and a stomach full of ice. The affair has been going on for months. I can see that from the messages, the calendar entries, the hotel receipts hidden in folders he thought I’d never find. But that’s not the worst part.
The worst part is the financial records.
Offshore accounts I’ve never heard of. Transfer records that don’t make sense. A paper trail showing money moving out of our joint accounts and into hidden ones for almost four years.
He’s been planning this. Planning to leave me with nothing.
My phone buzzes. Maya.
“I got your text,” she says without preamble. “What do you mean you found something? What’s going on?”
“I walked in on Jared fucking Alexis on his desk yesterday.”
Dead silence. Then: “I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. It sounded like you said-”
“My husband has been sleeping with my sister. For months, Maya. Months.”
“Jesus Christ.” I hear her moving, grabbing things. “I’m coming over right now-”
“Not yet. I need you to look at something first.” I take a breath. “You’re a forensic accountant. Tell me what I’m looking at.”
I send her the files. She’s quiet for a long moment, and I can hear her clicking through them, her breathing getting sharper.
“Camille... this isn’t just infidelity. This is fraud. He’s been moving money into offshore accounts for at least four years. Maybe longer - I’d need to dig deeper to find where it started. He’s been preparing to leave you destitute.”
“I know.”
“You need a lawyer. Not just any lawyer - someone who specializes in this kind of thing.”
“I know that too.” I’ve been researching all night, and one name keeps coming up over and over, whispered like a legend among women who’ve been where I am. “Diane Whitmore.”
Maya lets out a low whistle. “The shark. Good choice.”
“I’m calling her tomorrow.”
“And tonight?”
“Tonight I wait for Jared to come home and pretend I don’t know anything.” My voice is calm, which surprises me. “He thinks I’m stupid, Maya. Too trusting to check. Too naive to fight back.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to let him keep thinking that. Right up until I destroy him.”
***
Jared comes home the next evening expecting tears and begging and a fight he can win.
Instead, he finds me sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of wine and a folder, waiting.
“Baby.” He stops in the doorway, already arranging his face into something remorseful. “Let me explain-”
“Sit down.”
“Camille, please-”
“I said sit down, Jared.”
Something in my voice makes him obey. He sinks into the chair across from me, and I watch him calculate - lie big, or confess small? Which strategy gives him the best chance of controlling this?
“It didn’t mean anything,” he starts. “It was a mistake-”
“Spare me.” My voice is flat. “I’m not asking if you’ve been fucking my sister. I’m telling you I already know.”
He flinches at the crude language. Good. “Camille, it’s not-”
“Eight months? Nine? Since Thanksgiving, when you two kept disappearing together and I thought you were bonding over football?”
His face goes pale. He didn’t expect me to know specifics.
“It’s been a while,” he admits finally, going for honesty he thinks will earn him points. “But I swear, it just happened. We didn’t plan-”
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Get out of my house.”
“This is my house too-”
“No.” I smile, and it feels like a blade.
“This house is in my name. You put it in my name for tax purposes, remember? Something about your bonus structure and capital gains?” I stand, and he stands too, and suddenly we’re just staring at each other across the kitchen table like strangers.
“Get out, Jared. Now. Before I call the police and have you removed.”
“You’re being unreasonable-”
“I’m being extremely reasonable. A reasonable person would have set your car on fire by now.” I hold up my phone. “You have five minutes.”
He goes.
The moment the door closes behind him, my phone starts buzzing. Text after text from Alexis, forty-seven in total before I finally block her number, each one more desperate than the last.
Please let me explain
It’s not what you think
I never meant to hurt you
I love him Camille please try to understand
I block her on the forty-seventh message.
Then I pour another glass of wine and start planning.
***
A week later, my mother calls.
“There’s going to be a family meeting. Sunday. Your father and I expect you to attend.”
“A family meeting about what?”
“About moving forward. As a family.” Her voice is tight, disapproving. “Alexis has something she needs to tell everyone.”
Every instinct screams at me to refuse. But I need to see this. I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.
“Fine. I’ll be there.”
Sunday arrives, and I walk into my parents’ living room to find Jared sitting on the couch like he belongs there, Alexis tucked against his side with one hand pressed to her stomach.
She’s crying.
And I already know what she’s going to say before she opens her mouth.
“I’m pregnant.” Her voice breaks on the word. “It’s Jared’s.”