CHAPTER TWO
WAYNE
The morning after the gala, I woke up in a hotel room that smelled like stale alcohol and bad decisions. My head pounded, my mouth tasted like something had died in it, and for a blissful moment, I didn't remember.
Then it all came crashing back.
Collins. The gala. The presentation. The photos on that screen for everyone to see.
"Fuck." I sat up too fast, and the room spun. My phone was on the nightstand, screen dark. I'd turned it off sometime around 3 AM when the calls and texts became too much to handle.
I didn't want to turn it on. Didn't want to face whatever shitstorm was waiting for me. But I couldn't hide forever.
Forty-seven missed calls. Over two hundred texts. My email inbox was a disaster, the number climbing even as I watched.
The first text was from my father: What the hell did you do?
The second was from my boss: Don't bother coming in. Security will pack your office.
The third was from my lawyer: We need to talk. Now.
I scrolled through the rest with growing horror. Friends. Colleagues. Business contacts. All of them with the same theme: shock, disgust, disappointment.
And then I made the mistake of checking the news.
TECH VP CAUGHT IN EMBEZZLEMENT AND AFFAIR SCANDAL
The headline was everywhere. Denver Post. The Invisioned. Just In. Even fucking CNN had picked it up. There was a photo of me from last night, face red, mouth open in a shout, looking every inch the guilty bastard.
And next to it, a photo of Collins. Calm. Composed. Beautiful in that red dress. Looking like a woman who'd just won a war.
The article laid it all out. The affair. The embezzlement. The emails. They'd even tracked down Leslie's previous employers, documented her pattern of sleeping with married bosses. We were both destroyed, our names dragged through the mud for the entire world to see.
I wanted to be angry. Wanted to rage at Collins for doing this to me. But underneath the panic and humiliation, I felt something else.
Shame.
Because she was right. About all of it.
I need to back up. Need to explain how I got here, even though there's no explanation that makes this okay.
Collins and I met in college. University of Colorado, Boulder. I was a business major with big dreams and bigger ambitions. She was studying marketing, already showing the brilliance that would make her one of the youngest VPs in her company's history.
I fell for her hard. She was smart, funny, driven. She challenged me in ways no one else did. Made me want to be better, do better.
We got married right after graduation. Small ceremony, just family and close friends. I remember standing at that altar, looking at her in her simple white dress, and thinking I was the luckiest man alive.
For the first few years, we were happy. Building our careers, building our life together. We bought the house, filled it with expensive furniture and art. We traveled. We laughed. We fucked like rabbits, unable to keep our hands off each other.
But somewhere along the way, things changed.
Collins got promoted. Then promoted again. She was traveling constantly, working eighty-hour weeks, always on her phone or laptop. When she was home, she was exhausted. Too tired for sex. Too tired for conversation. Too tired for me.
I told myself it was temporary. That once she settled into the new role, things would go back to normal. But they never did. She just kept climbing, kept pushing, kept leaving me behind.
I got promoted too. Made VP at thirty-two, youngest in the company's history. I should have been thrilled. But Collins barely noticed. She sent a text—Congrats, babe! So proud!—and then went back to her conference call.
That's when Leslie started.
She was hired as my assistant six months ago. Fresh out of college, eager to please, always available. She laughed at my jokes. Asked about my day. Actually seemed interested in what I had to say.
It started innocently enough. Working late together. Grabbing dinner after long days. She'd touch my arm when she talked to me, lean in close to look at something on my computer screen.
I knew what she was doing. Knew it was inappropriate. But God, it felt good to be noticed. To be wanted.
The first time we kissed, I told myself it was a mistake. Too much wine at a client dinner, too much stress, too much loneliness. It wouldn't happen again.
But it did. Again and again. Until kissing turned into touching, and touching turned into fucking, and suddenly I was having a full-blown affair.
I told myself I wasn't hurting anyone. Collins was too busy to notice. Too focused on her career to care what I was doing. I was just filling a void, meeting needs that weren't being met at home.
I told myself a lot of lies.
The truth was simpler and uglier: I was a selfish asshole who couldn't handle his wife being more successful than him. Who couldn't deal with not being the center of her universe. Who chose to betray the woman he'd promised to love and honor because his ego was bruised.
And now I was paying for it.
My lawyer, Redmane, met me at a coffee shop in Cherry Creek. He looked grim, his usual jovial demeanor replaced with professional concern.
"How bad is it?" I asked, even though I already knew.
"Bad." He pulled out a folder, slid it across the table. "The company is filing charges for embezzlement. The amounts are small enough that you might avoid jail time, but you're looking at fines, restitution, and a permanent mark on your record."
"I didn't embezzle—"
"You used company funds for personal expenses related to your affair. Hotels, dinners, gifts. That's embezzlement, Wayne. The fact that you're a VP doesn't make it legal."
I slumped in my chair. "What about Collins? Can I sue her for defamation? For what she did at the gala?"
Redmane's laugh was bitter. "Sue her? With what money? And for what? Everything she said was true. You'd lose, and you'd look even worse in the process."
"So I'm just supposed to let her destroy my life?"
"She didn't destroy your life, Wayne. You did that all by yourself." He closed the folder. "My advice? Lay low. Issue a public apology. Try to salvage what you can of your reputation. And for God's sake, stay away from Collins. She's got enough ammunition to bury you ten times over."
After Redmane left, I sat there for a long time, staring at my cold coffee. Everything I'd worked for, gone. My job. My reputation. My marriage.
My phone buzzed. A text from Leslie: We need to talk.
I almost ignored it. Almost. But some self-destructive impulse made me respond: Where?
We met at her apartment, a modest one-bedroom in Capitol Hill. She answered the door in yoga pants and a tank top, her eyes red from crying.
"This is your fault," she said before I was even fully inside. "You said she'd never find out. You said we were careful."
"My fault? I’m not the one with a history of having affairs."
"She destroyed me, Wayne! I've been fired. Blacklisted. I can't get a job anywhere in this industry. My parents won't even talk to me." She was crying now, mascara running down her face. "You said you loved me. You said we'd be together."
Had I said that? In the heat of the moment, caught up in the fantasy of it all? Probably. I'd said a lot of things I didn't mean.
"Leslie, You shouldn’t have seduced me, you started this so don’t play innocent now.
I never meant for any of this to happen.
This is just a pattern for you, though. What did you think was going to happen if she found out?
Did you think she was going to walk away with her head between her knees?
Hand you a trophy and congratulate you on a job well done. "
"But it did happen! And now my life is ruined because I was stupid enough to believe you."
“You knew, I wasn’t going to leave my wife for you or I would have already done so. And don’t think for one moment I didn’t see the satisfied smile on your face when she caught us.”
She wasn't wrong that I used her. Led her on. Made promises I had no intention of keeping but she set all of this into motion and I wasn’t the first one she had done this to.
"I'll write you a recommendation. Help you find something in another city. But that is all I will do. You are on your own from there.”
"A recommendation? From you?" She laughed, harsh and broken. "Your name is poison, Wayne. Anything associated with you is toxic. The best thing you can do for me is stay the fuck away."
She was right about that too.
I left her apartment feeling lower than I'd ever felt in my life. I'd hurt everyone. Collins. My family. Myself. Leslie-even if this was partly her fault.
And for what? For some ego boost? For the thrill of forbidden sex? For the fantasy that I could have it all without consequences?
I drove to the house—my house, our house—without really deciding to. Just found myself pulling into the driveway, staring at the place where my marriage had died.
Collins's car wasn't there. The house was dark. I used my key to let myself in, half-expecting her to have changed the locks.
Everything looked the same. The art on the walls. The furniture we'd picked out together. The photos of us from happier times. But it all felt different now. Hollow. Like a museum exhibit of a life that no longer existed.
I walked to the kitchen. Stood in the spot where Collins had caught me. I could still see the look on her face. The devastation. The betrayal. The moment her heart broke.
I'd done that to her. The woman I'd promised to love and protect. I'd broken her in the worst possible way.
My phone rang. Collins's name on the screen. I answered without thinking.
"Hello?"
"Wayne." Her voice was cold. Professional. Like she was talking to a stranger. "I'm calling to inform you that I've filed for divorce. You'll be served papers tomorrow. I'm asking for the house, half of all assets, and alimony. Given the circumstances, I don't think you'll contest it."
"Collins, please. Can we talk about this?"
"There's nothing to talk about. You made your choice. Now you live with the consequences."
"I'm sorry. God, Collins, I'm so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
Silence. Then: "You're sorry you got caught. There's a difference."
She wasn't wrong.
"I loved you," I said, and I meant it. Despite everything, despite the affair and the lies, some part of me had still loved her. "I still love you."
"You don't know what love is, Wayne. Love isn't just words. It's actions. It's choices. And you chose to fuck your assistant in our kitchen. That's not love. That's betrayal."
"I know. I know I fucked up. But we can fix this. We can go to counseling, work through it—"
"There's nothing to work through. You didn't make a mistake, Wayne. You made a choice. Over and over again, for six months, you chose to betray me. And now I'm choosing to walk away."
"Collins—"
"Goodbye, Wayne. I hope it was worth it."
She hung up.
I stood there in our kitchen, phone in hand, and finally let myself feel the full weight of what I'd lost.
Collins. My brilliant, beautiful, fierce wife. The woman who'd challenged me and supported me and loved me despite my flaws. The woman who'd stood by me through every struggle and celebrated every success.
Gone.
And I had no one to blame but myself.
The next few weeks were a blur of legal meetings and damage control.
I hired a PR firm to try to salvage my reputation, but it was like trying to bail out the Titanic with a teaspoon.
The story had gone viral. I was a cautionary tale, a punchline, a symbol of everything wrong with corporate culture.
My parents were disappointed. My friends were distant. My professional network evaporated overnight.
I moved into a shitty apartment in Aurora, the kind of place I would have sneered at a month ago. Furnished it with Ikea and Craigslist finds. Lived on takeout.
Leslie moved back to Michigan. Sent me one final text: I hope you rot in hell.
I probably would, but I responded: Back at ya babe. I hope you learn to keep your legs closed and not seduce married men.
The divorce proceedings were brutal. Collins's lawyer was a shark who took evident pleasure in tearing me apart. Every email, every photo, every lie was presented as evidence of my moral bankruptcy.
I didn't fight it. Didn't contest anything. Just signed where they told me to sign and watched as everything I'd built was divided up and distributed.
Collins got the house. Half my retirement. Alimony that would keep me broke for years. I got a studio apartment and a ruined reputation.
Fair trade, all things considered.
Six months after the gala, I saw Collins at a coffee shop downtown. She was with a man—tall, handsome, laughing at something she said. She looked happy. Radiant. Like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
She saw me too. Our eyes met across the crowded shop. For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then she smiled. Not cruel or mocking. Just... satisfied. Like she was looking at a problem she'd solved and moved past.
She turned back to her companion, and I was dismissed. Forgotten. Irrelevant.
I left without ordering, walked back to my car in the rain. Sat there with water streaming down the windshield, blurring the world outside.
I'd had everything. A beautiful wife. A successful career. A life most people would envy.
And I'd thrown it all away for what? For sex with a woman I didn't love? For an ego boost? For the thrill of getting away with something?
The worst part was that I couldn't even blame Collins for what she'd done. She'd been ruthless, yes. Brutal. She'd destroyed my life with surgical precision.
But I'd destroyed hers first.
She'd just made sure I paid for it.