Eleanor let out a cold, bitterugh. "What''s wrong? Shouldn''t I be asking you that? Where have you been these past few days?"


    "If you''re done with this marriage,n, we can always get a divorce," Eleanor shot back, feigning anger.<fn1179> N?w ?ovel chapt?rs are published on </fn1179>


    "Yes. Divorce," Eleanor snapped, clenching her jaw.


    Her tone was defiant, but beneath ity uncertainty-a test, really, to see how he''d react to the word.


    "Eleanor."n''s voice was low and steady as he reached over and flicked on the bedsidemp. The sudden light illuminated his face, making every line and tired shadow starkly visible.


    His bloodshot eyes locked onto hers, emotion swirling beneath the surface- impossible to read.


    Yet to Eleanor, he seemed strangely calm. There was none of the guilt or panic she expected from a man caught in an affair.


    Of course. He wasn''t even trying to hide it anymore.


    "So, you finally want to talk about her?" There was a challenge inn''s eyes now, as if daring her to keep going.


    Eleanor scoffed. "You''re just hoping I''ll step aside, aren''t you?"


    "If you want to know anything, just ask. I''ll tell you,"n replied, his voice chillinglyposed.


    "Fine. Give me your phone," Eleanor demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. She didn''t want to hear sordid details about how they met or fell in love. All she wanted was evidence.


    Eleanor squared her shoulders, summoning the authority of a wife scorned. "What''s the matter? Afraid of what I''ll find? Got some dirty little secrets in there?"


    He made a show of nonchnce, and Eleanor hesitated for a split second before snatching up the ck phone. She red at him. "Password?"


    "It''s the same," he muttered, flopping back onto the pillow and closing his eyes, exhaustion etched into every feature.


    Eleanor guessed it was their daughter''s birthday. Her hands shook a little as she woke the screen, then shotn a look. "I''ll give it back in a minute."


    Clutching his phone like it was a treasure trove of evidence, she hurried to her own room, locking the door behind her. She entered their daughter''s birthday, and sure enough, the phone unlocked.


    There were no suspicious apps—just a handful of the usual ones. Eleanor opened his messaging app and searched for chats with Vanessa.


    There were messages from thest few days, but they were painfully ordinary: Vanessa asking about the weather or what he''d eaten, andn responding curtly, nothing flirtatious or intimate.


    That can''t be it, Eleanor thought, scrolling further. Vanessa had sent a few messages about her day: "My hand still hurts today, I can''t y the piano. So frustrating!"


    "Then take a break,"n replied.


    "I''m craving chocte from Fairhaven. Haven''t had it in ages!" Vanessa wrote. "We''ll go together sometime,"n answered.


    Eleanor refused to believe that was all. She kept scrolling, her finger flying across the screen, digging deeper and deeper-back a year, even-and still, nothing damning. Finally, she closed her eyes in frustration. Ian was too smart to leave any evidence lying around.


    Sure enough, when she checked the money transfer records, there was nothing- not a single transaction for two years. The only payments were from Vanessa ton, and the amounts were trivial.


    Eleanor opened his Skype app and searched for more chats with Vanessa. Same story. Only scattered, meaningless messages—no evidence, no transfers, nothing that proved what she suspected.