Now Grayson wasn't against others enjoy whatever sexual enjoyment they wanted. But he believed in one partner at a time. The multi partner relationship thing just wasn't for him. He had wanted what his parents had with maybe a little extra spice. He viewed his parents' marriage as the ideal, after thirty-six years of marriage with two children and they are still going strong, the fairy tale. Looking at Morgan now, he realized he wasn't going to have that with her.

He didn't take his eyes off her, knowing now he had never really known the woman he'd planned to marry. "Join you?"

"Don't knock it till you've tried it." Tina pulled on her pants, not bothering with underwear. "Morgan says you're quite... skilled."

The thought made him physically ill. "Get out," he repeated. "Both of you."

Morgan's face hardened. "This is my home too."

"No." Grayson stepped back from her touch. "It's not. Not anymore. You forfeited that right once you cheated."

He turned and walked out of the bedroom, down the hall to the living room. Behind him, he heard Morgan calling his name, then hushed argument with Tina. He ignored them, heading straight for the bar cart in the corner.

He poured three fingers of whiskey into a crystal tumbler and downed it in one swallow. The burn in his throat was a welcome distraction from the hollow feeling in his chest.

Eight months of lies.... Had it really been only eight months? With Tina it had been eight months. Had she been with anyone other than Tina? If she didn't see it as being with a woman as cheating maybe Tina was just the latest. How many had there been in their twelve months together. He wasn't going to ask just knowing there had been Tina was the end for him.

He'd been planning their future while she'd been sneaking around behind his back. With a woman she'd met at his sister's party. His sister's so called best friend.

He poured another drink, sipped it slower this time. He needed to deal with the trash before getting drunk.

From the bedroom, he could hear them still talking, voices raised now.

Grayson tuned it out, focusing instead on the amber liquid in his glass.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Tina appeared first, fully dressed now, her dark hair smoothed back. She slung a designer bag over her shoulder and paused at the entrance to the living room.

"For what it's worth, Morgan is the one who pursued me." She didn't sound apologetic, merely stating a fact.

Grayson didn't look up. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"You know you really could have joined us; I wouldn't have minded I swing both ways."

Grayson didn't even reply, only shuddered at the very idea.

At first she looked angry at his reaction before a mask fell over her face, and she shrugged and headed toward the front door. A moment later, it clicked shut behind her.

Morgan emerged from the bedroom wearing jeans and a sweater, her face flushed with anger. "Really, Grayson, you have no right to speak to her like that."

"In what universe do you get to dictate how I respond to finding another person in our bed with you?" His voice remained low, controlled. The kind of control that terrified his business opponents.

"Really Grayson why are you so upset. It's not like I was with another man."

"Christ, Morgan." He set his glass down worried he might crush it in his hand if he didn't. "That's your defense? That it doesn't count because she's a woman?"

She crossed her arms, defiant. "You're overreacting."

"Overreacting." He laughed, the sound bitter even to his own ears. "You've been fucking someone else behind my back for our entire engagement plus some, in our bed, and I'm overreacting?"

"It's just a little fun and I said you could join us. What's the big deal."

"What's the big deal?" He moved away from her, suddenly needing distance between them. "It's betrayal. It's lies. It's disrespect."

"Look, I was going to tell you-"

"When? After the wedding? On our tenth anniversary?" He gestured toward the ring on her finger.

Morgan's chin lifted. "I love you, Grayson. This thing with Tina-it's just physical."

"Love." The word tasted sour in his mouth. "You don't know the first thing about love. You don't do this to someone you love."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" His control slipped, just enough for his voice to rise. "What's not fair is making me believe you wanted the same things I did. A life together. Children. Commitment."

"I do want those things."

"With someone you're cheating on?"

"It's not like that with Tina. It's not-"

"Stop." He held up a hand. "Just stop. I don't care how you justify it to yourself. We're done."

Her expression changed, calculation replacing indignation. "You don't mean that."

"I've never meant anything more in my life."

"Baby, think about what you're throwing away." She approached him, hips swaying slightly the way they did when she wanted something. "We're good together. Everyone says so."

"Everyone doesn't know you've been lying to me."

She reached for him, one hand sliding up his chest. "I made a mistake. I'll end things with Tina. We can go on like before."

Grayson caught her wrist, stopping her. He didn't want her touching him. "There's no 'we' anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous." Her voice hardened. "You're angry. I get it. But you're not walking away from everything we've built."

"Everything we've built?" He released her wrist. "You mean the life you've been undermining since day one? What the hell was I to you?"

"Gray-"

"I want you out of this house tonight." His tone left no room for argument. "Take whatever's yours. Leave your key." He would be having the locks changed but asking for the key showed her he was not backing down.

Morgan's eyes widened. Her normal confidence leaving her face. She had really believed she could change his mind. What replaced it was genuine panic. "You're serious."

He didn't give a fuck. "Deadly."

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"That's not my problem anymore." He turned away from her, pouring another drink. "Call Tina."

Silence stretched between them, taut and heavy. Then Morgan's voice, lower now, threaded with something like desperation.

"I can't believe you mean this Grayson... You love me."

Grayson looked at her over his shoulder. "No, I'm not in love with you Morgan... I was in love with the part you played. I have to say you are truly a fantastic actress... But it wasn't real." Ice coated his words now. "Pack your things and get out." It was the same ice that was encasing his heart. He had changed for her, in ways she wouldn't understand. But no more. From now on, Grayson was going to be himself. If he never found the right partner to fit his needs, then so be it. Emma will have kids someday, and he could make them his heirs.

She opened her mouth to argue further, then seemed to think better of it. With a final glare, she stalked back to the bedroom.

Grayson sank onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. The whiskey couldn't dull the sharp edges of betrayal or the hollow feeling spreading through his chest. He'd trusted her. Believed in their future together.

What a fucking joke.

Morgan emerged twenty minutes later dragging a white suitcase, her makeup perfect despite the situation. She was always so concerned with appearances.

"I'm leaving for now," she said, stopping by the door. "When you calm down, you'll realize what you're throwing away. Call me and we will talk."

Grayson didn't respond, didn't even look at her.

The door closed behind her with a decisive click.

In the sudden silence, he pulled out his phone and made two calls. First to his security team to change the locks. The other to reinstate his membership to the club. The part of himself he had given up for Morgan.

Same night Honey & Riley's Apartment Thursday 5th 8:07pm

Honey dragged herself up the last few stairs to her apartment, briefcase in one hand, takeout in the other. The day had been exhausting and her back ached from hunching over spreadsheets for nine hours straight, and her eyes burned from staring at financial projections until the numbers blurred together.

All to prepare Grayson Taylor's Boston presentation. She wasn't one to leave things to the last minute, but they had only sent her the numbers this morning, giving her little time to confirm everything and give her detailed report to Grayson.

"The man couldn't even say, 'thank you,'" she muttered, fumbling with her keys. Not that she'd stuck around long enough to hear if he would. The moment she'd emailed the completed files; she'd bolted from the office before he could find another impossible task for her to complete. She didn't think he would, but she just hadn't taken the chance.

The apartment was silent when she entered...no surprise there. Riley had texted earlier: Partner dinner tonight. Don't wait up. There had been a heap of late nights lately... client dinners and paperwork to complete for the meeting the next day.

Honey kicked off her sensible pumps, letting them fall where they may. The clock on the wall read 8:07 PM. She sighed, knowing she should be grateful for the quiet evening ahead. Just her, some Thai food, and maybe some mindless TV.

She peeled off her work blazer... a drab, oversized one that helped maintain her "Joy Smith" work persona, and tossed it onto the kitchen counter. Next came the glasses she didn't need, followed by the hairpins that kept her high-quality shoulder length brown wig in place. It had been made for her and high quality because her father would kill her if she dyed her natural red hair.

Her reflection in the window caught her eye. The transformation was already beginning, starting with Joy fading, Honey emerging.

She went to the living room in her stockinged feet, set down the bag of takeout, and flopped onto the sofa. Something stuffed at the back of the sofa cushion caught her eye. Maybe because it was hot pink.

"What the-" Honey shifted, digging between the cushions where her fingers caught the lace fabric. She pulled it out, holding it up.

A hot pink thong dangled from her fingertips.

Honey stared at it, her mind refusing to process what she was seeing. The garment was definitely not hers... she hadn't worn anything remotely that color since college. And it certainly wasn't something Riley would wear unless he had taken up crossdressing. So, there was no reason for the tiny piece of clothing to be in their home.

That left only one possibility.

Her stomach lurched. The Thai food forgotten, she dropped the underwear as if it had burned her. For a moment, she sat perfectly still, the apartment's silence suddenly oppressive rather than peaceful.

"That son of a bitch," she whispered. Her husband was cheating on her.

She should have suspected, of course. The late nights and last-minute business trips. Let's not forget the scent of perfume on his clothes. Which he had always explained away, calling her paranoid. The way he barely touched her anymore. Not that she thought that was honestly a big loss.

But suspecting an affair was one thing. Holding physical evidence was another entirely.

Honey picked up the thong again, forcing herself to examine it more carefully. Expensive, by the feel of the fabric. The size was extra small. A laugh bubbled up in her throat.

All those times she'd blamed herself for not being exciting enough, for being too focused on work, for letting herself become the dull, sexless woman Riley claimed she was. And all along, he'd been betraying her.

She should be devastated. She should be crying or screaming. Instead, a strange calm settled over her. Riley's cheating wasn't a surprise-not if she was honest with herself. She just hadn't wanted to face it. To admit she had made a mistake marrying him. Having the proof that something was indeed going on gave her the permission she needed to leave him. She just needed undeniable proof to keep what was hers.

She had been a virgin on her wedding night. So, leaving him wouldn't be easy for her. She had taken vows, and she took those vows very seriously. She wished now in a lot of ways she had taken him for a test drive before their wedding. It might have saved her this.

Honey pulled out her phone, opened the camera app, and took several photos of the thong from different angles, making sure to capture it against the backdrop of their living room. Then she walked to the kitchen and dropped the panties into a zip lock bag before she dropped them into her handbag. Grabbing a wine glass and a bottle of red wine, she headed back into the living room, she uncorked the wine. Well, discovering your husband's infidelity was reason enough to get drunk if nothing else.

She poured herself a generous glass and settled back onto the sofa avoiding the spot where she'd found the thong and finally opened her takeout. As she ate her Pad Thai directly from the container, she scrolled through her phone until she found the contact she was looking for: Ben Walters, the private investigator her father had used for corporate matters in the past.

Honey: Need your services for a personal matter. Discretion essential. Available to meet tomorrow?

She hit send, then set her phone aside. No crying. No desperate calls to friends. No confronting Riley when he eventually stumbled home, lying and denying everything and gaslighting her. He was very good at that. Blaming her. No, she was going to play this smart.

He really was an idiot, or so cocky he had believed he wouldn't get caught.

Her phone buzzed with Ben's response:

Ben: Hi Honey, Available at 11:30 AM. My office or yours?

Honey took another sip of wine.

Honey: Yours. I'll be there. Thank you.

She set down her phone and leaned back against the cushions. For months... no, years, really, she'd been living an unhappy life. And for what? A man who couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

The pink thong wasn't just evidence of Riley's betrayal. It was permission to stop pretending. To get on with her life.

Her phone buzzed again, picking it up, she saw a message from Riley: Dinner running late. Staying at Paul's place tonight. Too much to drink.

A fresh wave of anger surged through her. She knew Paul. His "buddy" from law school who lived in a sleek bachelor pad downtown. The perfect alibi. How many times had Riley used this excuse? How many times had Paul been willing to cover for him? Birds of a feather.

She didn't bother responding to the text he could see she had read it. Instead, she finished her wine and poured another glass.

Three years of marriage. Three years of being miserable, of pretending to be someone she wasn't, of tolerating Riley's increasingly controlling behavior. Three years of no orgasms.

That last thought made her snort into her wine glass. Riley had convinced her she was frigid, that her inability to climax with him was her problem, not his. Yet another lie in a marriage built on them. Because she had become wetter with her fantasies and fingers than Riley had ever made her.

Honey retrieved her laptop from her briefcase and opened a new document. If she was going to do this, hire Ben dad's PI, gather evidence, divorce Riley, she needed to be methodical. That's what she was good at, after all. Seeing patterns in numbers was her thing.

She began typing, creating a timeline of suspicious events over the past months. Late nights. Unexplained expenses on their credit card statements. The teenage housekeeper Riley had insisted on hiring, against Honey's objections.

The housekeeper. Nineteen years old. Perky, blonde, and constantly fluttering around, Honey had dismissed her own discomfort as petty jealousy. Brittany would fit into those panties very easily. But she was no live-in housekeeper, therefore, no reason for them to be here.

"Fucking idiot," she muttered to herself, gulping more wine, before holding her glass up in a toast.

"Thank you, whoever you are," she whispered to the absent owner of the pink thong. "You just set me free."

Friday, October 6th 6:45AM

Honey woke the next morning with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt like she'd been chewing on cotton balls. The empty wine bottle on the coffee table explained why. She groaned, pushing herself up from the couch where she'd fallen asleep, still in yesterday's work clothes.

She had drunk the whole bottle. One thing she would not let Riley turn her into is a lush. She was going to be better off without him. A big sign they shouldn't be together was when she had found out about his cheating the only thing she felt was relief not heartbreak.

But what a stupid, arrogant shit he was to think she would stay with him or was it that he thought he could control her enough not to use the prenup. He would get nothing and now she had the proof she needed to make sure of that.

Her laptop sat open beside her. Pulling it toward her, Honey looked to see where she had finished last night. The document she'd created now spanning several pages of meticulously dated incidents. Even drunk, she'd been thorough. It was both impressive and depressing. Sighing she saved the file and closed her laptop.

Rubbing a hand over her eyes before looking around, the morning sun streamed through the living room windows, harsh and unforgiving. Honey glanced at her phone to check the time 6:45 AM. She had plenty of time before she needed to be at work, but she needed to get herself together.

She stumbled to the bathroom, avoiding her reflection in the mirror as she stripped off yesterday's clothes. Under the hot spray of the shower, her mind cleared enough to form a plan for the day. Meet with the PI, gather evidence, contact a divorce lawyer, and a few other things she needed to arrange. But most importantly act normal at work.

No one at Taylor Industries could know what was happening in her personal life. Especially not Grayson Taylor, who would no doubt use any sign of weakness against her in their next boardroom battle.

After drying off, she pulled her red hair into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, before pulling her brown wig into place. She applied minimal makeup, just enough to hide the effects of last night's wine, then donned her glasses, ones with clear lenses that helped complete her transformation into Joy Smith, CFO.

She chose a modest brown pantsuit, that was two sizes too big and had no shape whatsoever. The kind that made people underestimate her. It had always served her well. It wasn't as ugly as some of her outfits, but no one bothered to look passed the blah hair and glasses. This was all so she could make a name for herself and not ride on her father's coattails. She was no nepo baby.

As she gathered her things, her phone buzzed with a text from Riley: Coming home to shower and change. I know you must be on the way to work. See you tonight, Baby.

Honey's jaw tightened. So, he'd spent the night with his mistress and now expected to waltz back in like nothing had happened. Little did he know she was working behind the scenes to kick his ass to the curb.

She typed back: At work all day. Then dinner with Lauren and Maggie tonight. A lie, but she couldn't bear to see him, not yet. Not until she had her plan firmly in place.

She headed to the office and started work. But was always checking the clock counting down the minutes until she saw Ben. In between working she made two phone calls, one to her doctor's office to get bloods done to make sure her cheater of a husband hadn't given her anything deadly. If he had she just might just kill him. The other call was to an electronic store, after taking her payment would deliver her order by this afternoon at the office.

At 11:25, Honey sat in the waiting room of Ben Walters' office in a nondescript building in Midtown. The space was deliberately bland with its beige walls, generic artwork, comfortable but unmemorable furniture. Nothing about it suggested that behind these walls.

"Mrs. Smith?" A receptionist appeared. "Mr. Walters will see you now."

Honey followed her down a short hallway to a corner office where Ben Walters rose from behind his desk to greet her. In his early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and the physique of a former cop who still kept in shape, he had the kind of face that blended into a crowd... perfect for his profession.

Ben, ever the professional, didn't say anything about her getup.

"Honey, it's been a while," he said, gesturing to a chair. "Your father mentioned you'd gotten married."

"I did. Three years ago." Honey sat, placing her purse on her lap. "And that marriage is the reason I need to speak with you today."

Ben nodded, settling back in his chair. "I assumed as much. Personal matters usually involve marriages... the beginning or the end of them."

Honey unzipped her purse and removed the plastic bag containing the pink thong. She placed it on his desk.

"I found this in my couch cushions last night. It's not mine."

Ben didn't blink. He'd likely seen far worse in his line of work. "Your husband is?"

"Riley Smith. He's a corporate attorney at Matthews & Booth." She handed over a printed sheet with Riley's information, the addresses of his office and the gym he frequented. "I need irrefutable evidence of his infidelity. Photos, video if possible. Enough to uphold the infidelity clause in our prenuptial agreement."

Ben studied the information. "Any idea who he might be involved with?"

"I suspect our housekeeper, Brittany Davis. Nineteen years old. Works Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from nine to three." Honey removed another sheet from her purse. "Her information is here, along with a list of nights Riley claimed to be working late or staying at his friend's apartment, his details are also on the sheet."

Ben's eyebrows rose slightly at her thoroughness. "You've done half my job already."

"I like to be prepared for anything."

"So, I see." He leaned forward. "What's your timeline on this?"

Honey thought for a moment. "I need to secure my financial position before making any moves. The evidence first, then I'll consult with a divorce attorney. I have hidden cameras with motion sensors getting delivered to my office this afternoon. I can set them up myself."

"I won't even insult you by discussing money," Ben said. "Given the nature of the case, I'd estimate two weeks max of surveillance before we have what you need. If he is careful, it could take longer."

"That's acceptable." Honey nodded. "I'd like daily reports. I will also, in turn, send you anything I know." Honey didn't think it would take that long. Riley was cocky and thought he had her under control.

"Of course." Ben scribbled some notes. "One more thing... do you want to know details beyond what's necessary for the prenup? Some clients prefer to know everything, others just want the basics."

The question caught her off guard. Did she want to know if Riley whispered the same words to this girl that he'd once said to her when they were dating and first married? Honey didn't think it would upset her just dent her pride a little that she had been foolish to trust him.

"Just what's necessary for legal purposes," she decided. "I don't need the details of everything."

Ben nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I'll get started today."

"Send me an invoice and I'll wire a retainer this afternoon." Honey stood, extending her hand. "Thank you for your discretion."

"Always." He shook her hand firmly. "I'm sorry you're going through this, Mrs. Smith."

"It will be Ms Johnson soon and don't be," Honey said, surprised to find she meant it. "This marriage has been over for a long time. I just needed a reason to admit it to myself. Can I ask you not to tell my father? I will when it's time."

Back in her car, Honey checked her watch. She had time to grab lunch before heading to the office. Her phone buzzed with an email notification. Grayson Taylor, subject line: URGENT: Boston Deal Revisions.

She sighed, opening the message.

Smith,

Boston presentation needs to be redone. New parameters attached. Need completed slides by 4 PM today for my second meeting with them at 4:30 PM.

GT

No please, no thank you. Just demands, as usual. What made it worse was that she'd spent all of yesterday preparing those slides to his exact specifications.

"Goddamnit, Taylor," she muttered, starting her car. Eating would have to wait. Again. She would just grab a snack from the break room at the office.