Chapter 1I was working late at the office when my husband's secretary, Lynn, suddenly sent me a SEXY photo.
In the picture, she was wearing a tiny bikini, clinging to my husband on a beach in Cancun, both of them beaming with joy.
The caption was pure provocation: "Hey Seraphina, Dave says I'm the one he really loves. He told me not to tell you, but I just felt too sorry for you."
I stared at the photo for three seconds, and then I smiled.
I calmly forwarded the photo to the print shop downstairs with a note: "100 copies, A3 color, rush order."
An hour later, I personally plastered those photos over EVERY single inch of the office.
Now, let the show BEGIN.
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My phone screen lit up.
Lynn Bennett had sent a photo.
The beach in Cancun looked golden and blindingly bright.
She was wearing a bikini that barely covered anything, hugging a man tightly.
That man was my husband, Dave Collins.
The two of them were grinning at the camera, their teeth perfectly white.
Below the photo was a line of text.
"Seraphina, Dave says I'm his favorite person."
"He was afraid of hurting you, so he told me to keep it quiet."
"But seeing you working overtime all by yourself... it's just too pathetic."
I stared at the photo.
For three seconds.
And then I laughed.
My finger swiped, and I forwarded the photo.
I sent it to the 24-hour print shop downstairs.
I typed my instructions into the chat box.
"A3 coated paper, color, 100 copies."
"Rush order. I'll be down to pick them up in an hour."
The shop owner replied instantly with an OK emoji.
I put my phone down and went back to the project data on my screen.
My heart didn't skip a beat.
My hands didn't shake.
There wasn't even a ripple of emotion in my mind.
It was like I was fixing a sudden, yet entirely expected, system bug.
One hour later.
I saved all my files and clocked out.
The office building was fully lit.
On my floor, the design department, half the team was still there.
Everyone saw me and gave me a nod and a smile.
"Still here, Seraphina?"
"Yeah, just finished up a milestone."
I replied, my expression the same as always.
The elevator went down to the first floor.
The shop owner had already wrapped a thick stack of photos in brown paper.
The paper was still warm.
"Here's your order, Ms. Weaver."
"Thanks, Ben."
I scanned the code to pay.
Clutching those 100 A3 color prints, I stepped back into the elevator.
I pressed the button for the 17th floor.
The elevator doors opened.
I walked over to the department's bulletin board.
It was covered with the latest project notices and "Employee of the Month" awards.
I ripped them off, one by one.
Then, using tape, I began sticking the photos of my husband and Lynn up.
One.
Two.
Three.
Soon, the entire board was covered with that eyesore of a photo.
I didn't stop.
I headed to the breakroom.
I slapped one on the coffee machine.
One on the fridge door.
I didn't spare the water cooler either.
Colleagues working late began to notice what I was doing.
Heads popped out from cubicles, looks of confusion on their faces.
I ignored them.
I walked to Dave's office door.
A sign on his door read "Department Director."
I taped a photo perfectly centered right under the sign.
Then I went to Lynn's desk.
There was a pink tumbler on her desk next to a small vanity mirror.
I plastered the photo directly over her mirror.
Then I took the rest and moved down the hallway, taping them up like flyers from one end to the other.
Every corner of the 17th floor was filled with their bright, smiling faces.
Once I was finished.
I went back to my desk and grabbed my bag.
I turned off my phone.
I took one last look at the place where I had worked for seven years.
Then, I walked into the elevator without looking back.
Straight to the airport.
Dave, I've delivered your anniversary surprise.
Wish you and your little Lynn like IT.
Chapter 2
The taxi sped along the elevated highway in the night.
The city lights outside blurred into long streaks of light.
I opened my laptop.
I didn't check my phone.
I knew it was absolutely blowing up right now.
Calls from Dave, from Lynn, from the bosses, from gossiping coworkers.
It didn't matter.
The moment I hit "send" to the print shop, the "good wife" and "good colleague" named Seraphina had died.
The person sitting in this car now was an avenger.
Or rather, an auditor settling the books.
On my computer screen was an encrypted folder.
The password was Dave's birthday followed by Lynn's start date at the company.
I had known for a long time.
When did it all start?
Probably about six months ago.
Dave started working "late" constantly, claiming the projects were tight.
He put a passcode on his phone, saying it was to protect company secrets.
Lynn, a fresh graduate intern, was personally hired by him and then promoted at lightning speed.
The whole department thought it was weird.
Except for me.
Because I had smelled perfume that wasn't mine in Dave's car.
Because while doing his laundry, I found long hairs that didn't belong to me.
The "babe," the "sweetie," and the "I'll marry you as soon as I deal with that old hag" messages.
I didn't make a scene at the time.
I just quietly backed up every chat log, every bank transfer, every hotel record.
I split them across three different cloud drives with triple encryption.
I even bought a tiny recording device and hid it inside our bedside lamp.
I gave him six months.
I waited for him to come back to his senses or to just come clean.
He did nothing.
He just sat there comfortably, enjoying the stable home I built for him while soaking up the thrills from a young girl on the side.
He thought I was clueless.
He thought I was still that naive girl who married him right after college with stars in her eyes.
He was wrong.
After seven years of marriage, I was long gone.
Inside the folder was my plan.
Plans A, B, and C.
Plan A: If he confessed on his own, we'd have a peaceful divorce. I'd keep the evidence buried, split the assets, and part ways.
Plan B: If I found the evidence but he was willing to admit fault and return to the family. I'd give him one chance, but he'd have to sign a post-nup leaving with nothing if he ever strayed again.
Plan C: If he not only refused to repent but also tried to team up with an outsider to humiliate me.
In that case, total liquidation.
The photo Lynn sent today was the key to starting Plan C.
The taxi pulled up to the airport departures level.
I paid the fare and walked in, dragging the suitcase I'd packed long ago.
My destination wasn't Cancun.
Catching them in the act? That's too low-rent.
My ticket was for my small hometown.
Dave's parents and Lynn's parents both lived in that small, mid-western town.
It's the kind of place where everyone knows everyone.
I was going to deliver the second "surprise" to their parents before they even got back from Cancun.
I wanted him to know.
Not only could I ruin his career and his reputation.
I could also destroy the last shred of his dignity as a son.
In the departure lounge, I took out my burner phone.
I turned it on.
There was only one contact on this phone.
The receptionist at our company, a young girl fresh out of school. I'd helped her a few times, so we were on good terms.
I messaged her.
"Wendy, what's the situation on the 17th floor?"
She replied almost instantly.
A shocked emoji.
Then a long string of voice notes.
I put on my headphones.
"Seraphina! Where the hell are you?! The office has gone insane!"
"Those photos you taped up—someone took pictures and posted them in the company-wide chat!"
"Every group chat is talking about it! Even the big boss has been alerted!"
"The HR Director's face turned green with rage. He's been leading a team to rip the photos down, but it's pointless—everyone's already saved them!"
"People are blowing up Dave and Lynn's phones, but no one is answering!"
"Seraphina, are you okay? Please, don't do anything drastic!"
I listened to her panicked voice, and a slight smile played on my lips.
Do something drastic?
No.
My mind has never been clearer.
I typed my reply.
"I'm fine, just clearing my head. Do me a favor—send me a few more screenshots from the company chats."
"Especially the ones where they're being the most brutal. I love to see it."
Chapter 3
The plane touched down at 4:00 AM.
The hometown airport was tiny, the air thick with that familiar, damp scent.
I didn't go home, I took a cab straight to the best hotel in the city.
After a hot shower, I lay down on the plush king-sized bed.
I wasn't even remotely sleepy.
On my burner phone, Wendy was still dutifully giving me a live play-by-play of the office drama.
"Seraphina, breaking news! Someone dug up that Dave used the department's team-building budget for his trip to Cancun with Lynn!"
"He filed it as a 'team research trip,' but the 'team' was just Lynn!"
"Finance is auditing the books overnight. Word is this has already been reported to Corporate Compliance!"
"My god, this isn't just an affair anymore—it's embezzlement!"
I looked at the message. Expected.
Dave had always been a cheapskate.
He used to bring home office supplies and coffee beans all the time, I used to just look the other way.
I hadn't realized his greed had grown enough to make him touch company funds.
This actually saved me a lot of trouble.
My original plan included an anonymous tip to the IRS and Corporate Compliance.
Now it seemed my "helpful colleagues" had already done the heavy lifting.
When the wall starts to crumble, everyone gives it a shove.
He'd spent years acting like a tyrant at work, he had plenty of enemies.
Now that he was down, the people lining up to stab him in the back would far outnumber me.
The phone buzzed.
It was a short video from Wendy.
In the video, the HR Director, face dark with rage, was directing two security guards to tear the photos off the bulletin board.
A circle of coworkers stood around watching, whispering among themselves.
The camera zoomed in, and I could hear their conversation clearly.
"I can't believe Dave is like this. He usually acts so high and mighty."
"That Lynn isn't any better. She's been acting like a queen just because Dave had her back."
"Good riddance. They're both going down together."
"Seraphina is a total badass. She stays quiet, but when she moves, it's a total knockout."
"Nice work! I've hated those two for ages!"
I saved the video.
This would be powerful evidence in court later to prove Dave was at fault for the breakdown of our marriage.
I sent Wendy a digital gift card.
"Thanks for the hard work. Get some sleep. Keep me posted if anything else happens."
"Seraphina, you're way too kind! I'm not tired at all—this is way more exciting than any movie! Don't worry, I'll feed you all the gossip the second I get it!"
The girl was sharp.
After handling the office business, I opened another folder.
Inside were two addresses.
One was Dave's parents' house.
The other was Lynn's parents' house.
I'd done my homework. Lynn was an only child. Her father was a high school dean, and her mother worked for the city council.
A family that cared about "face" more than anything.
I picked up the hotel stationery and a pen.
I started writing.
One for Dave's parents.
"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Collins,"
"I apologize for reaching out this way. After seven years of marriage to Dave, I can say I've been a faithful wife. Unfortunately, his heart wandered. He has been in a long-term affair with a colleague, Ms. Lynn Bennett, and has spent our marital assets on her."
"Currently, he is in Cancun with her on our anniversary, having embezzled company funds to pay for the trip. The entire company knows, and the scandal is massive."
"My heart is broken, and I have decided to divorce him. I have attached the evidence to this letter."
"Your daughter-in-law, Seraphina Weaver."
The other was for Lynn's parents.
"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Bennett,"
"I am Seraphina Weaver, Dave Collins's wife. Forgive my intrusion. I'm sure you take great pride in how you raised your daughter, Lynn Bennett, but perhaps you are unaware that she has been playing the role of a homewrecker behind your backs."
"She has been involved with my husband and has used incredibly malicious language to insult and provoke me."
"I find it hard to believe that a respectable family could raise a daughter with so little shame."
"I've enclosed photos and chat logs so you can see your daughter's true colors."
"From a wife your daughter has deeply hurt."
I finished the letters, folded them, and put them in envelopes.
Then I pulled another set of prints from my suitcase.
This time, they were A4 size.
Along with the Cancun photos, there were screenshots of their explicit chats, hotel receipts, and records of large bank transfers Dave had made to Lynn.
I'd prepared a thick stack for each.
I stuffed the "evidence" into the two envelopes.
Sealed them.
Dawn was breaking.
I called a local courier service from the hotel.
I sent the envelopes to their respective addresses.
Once that was done, I drew the curtains and finally felt the exhaustion hit me.
But I knew the real show was just getting started.
Dave and Lynn were probably about to land.
Waiting for them was a 360-degree trial by their company, their families, and society.
And I would be the one sitting high above it all, watching coldly as the final judge.
