Twenty years of loyalty, and Greg didn’t even bother lying. “It’s just… we need fresh energy,” he said, barely meeting my eyes. “You understand.”
Fresh energy.
Right. He thought I’d walk away quietly, maybe take up gardening or knitting. What he forgot was that I’d spent two decades keeping that office running—and I knew everything about him.
Including his affair. One email. That’s all it took.
His wife, Laura, received every hotel receipt, every late-night message, every “business trip” that wasn’t. The next morning, Greg stormed into the office, pale and shaking. By noon, his assistant quit.
By five, he was packing up his desk. And by the end of the day, Laura called me. Her voice was calm.
Steady. “I think we should meet,” she said. And that’s when I knew—this wasn’t over.
I met Laura at a quiet café on the edge of town. She walked in wearing oversized sunglasses, her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. For someone whose world had been turned upside down, she carried herself with remarkable poise.
I almost felt guilty for what I’d done—but only almost. “Thank you for coming,” she said as she slid into the booth across from me. Her voice was soft but firm, like she’d rehearsed this moment in front of a mirror.
“Of course,” I replied, fiddling with the sugar packets on the table. “How are you holding up?”
She let out a short laugh, devoid of humor. “Honestly?
I’m not sure yet. But I wanted to talk to you because… well, I owe you something.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“Oh, but I do.” She leaned forward slightly, her hands clasped tightly together.
“Greg told me about why he fired you. And while I can’t undo what he did, I want to help if I can.”
Help? From her ?
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Here was the woman whose life I’d just shattered, offering me assistance. It felt surreal.
“I appreciate that,” I said carefully, “but I’ll be okay. I’ve got some savings, and I’m already looking into other opportunities.”
Laura nodded slowly, then reached into her purse and pulled out a folder. She placed it on the table between us.
“Take a look at this.”
Curious, I opened the folder. Inside were documents—financial statements, property deeds, bank records—all tied to Greg’s business ventures. My jaw dropped as I flipped through them.
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