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.

By the time Honey reached her office at Taylor Industries, her professional mask was firmly in place. Joy Smith, plain, reliable, and utterly unmemorable, nodded at the security guard and took the elevator to the executive floor.

Her assistant, Marjorie, greeted her with a concerned look. "Mr. Taylor's been asking for you. Three times in the last hour."

"I had a doctor's appointment," Honey lied smoothly. She did have one after work this afternoon, so not lying really. "The Boston presentation, I know he ended up emailing me."

"He's made significant changes to the proposal. The team's waiting in the conference room for a video meeting with him to go over it."

Honey nodded, striding toward her office to drop off her things. "Tell them I'll be there in a few minutes."

Her office was a reflection of Joy Smith... practical, organized, devoid of personal touches save for a single framed photo of her father on a fishing trip, sunglasses and hat hiding his face. But no photos of Riley.

She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. This was her domain. Here, she was in control, unlike the shambles of her personal life right now.

When she entered the conference room, six pairs of eyes turned to her. On the wall behind the head of the table was Grayson Taylor on the big screen TV, dressed in a charcoal suit, his expression impatient.

"Nice of you to join us, Smith," he drawled. "We've only been waiting forty minutes."

He seemed cranky but Honey didn't take the bait. "I had a medical appointment, Mr. Taylor. One that was scheduled weeks ago. We are all allowed lunch breaks as you are well aware. It's the law."

"More important than the Boston deal?"

"My health?" She met his gaze coolly. "Yes, actually. Had I had more notice I would have been here."

Something flashed in his eyes... surprise, perhaps, that she'd pushed back on something not directly connected to work. Good. Let him be surprised. Today was a day for changes. She was no longer taking shit from anyone including him.

"Well, now that you've graced us with your presence," he gestured to the room he could see on his screen, "we need to revise the entire proposal. They now want a more aggressive growth strategy and are asking for more money."

Honey took her seat, opening her tablet. "The strategy they presented was already at the upper limit of what their current infrastructure can support." She could see what the Nortons were doing. They wanted the highest possible payout for their business. Even though she had proved it wasn't worth the asking price.

"They've secured additional financing. They want to accelerate the timeline."

"By how much?" They wanted more money but had increased the liability by getting finance. It was a CFO's worst nightmare.

"Fifty percent."

Honey couldn't hide her shock. "That's not acceleration, Mr. Taylor. That's recklessness."

The room went silent. No one contradicted Grayson Taylor, especially not in front of others.

His jaw tightened. "The Nortons disagree, as do I."

"Then, with all due respect, both you and the Nortons need a reality check." She pulled up the original projections on her tablet. "These numbers don't lie. A fifty percent acceleration without corresponding infrastructure investments would collapse their supply chain by Q3."

Grayson leaned forward, his voice dangerously low. "Are you calling me reckless, Smith?"

"I'm calling the proposal reckless," she corrected. "My job is to tell you when the numbers don't add up, not to rubber-stamp bad decisions to make you happy. I'm no yes man... or woman."

The tension in the room was so thick that Grayson wasn't even here. The other executives shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with her. Fucking cowards.

For a long moment, Grayson didn't say anything, from his expression Honey thought he was about to blow. Then, unexpectedly, his lips curved into something almost resembling a smile.

"Show me," he said.

Honey blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Show me why it won't work. Convince me. Talk me through it."

She hesitated only a moment before sharing her screen to everyone in the room and Grayson remotely. For the next twenty minutes, she walked through the supply chain vulnerabilities, the cash flow implications, the market risks. She didn't hold back, didn't soften her assessment to spare his ego. He was wrong, and she was happy to show him.

When she finished, Grayson was watching her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. Not anger, as she'd expected, but something else entirely.

"Everyone out," he said suddenly. "Except Smith."

The room cleared quickly, no one wanting to witness whatever was coming next. When the door closed behind the last person, Honey braced herself for the explosion. Was he going to fire her?

But the explosion didn't come, instead, she watched the TV screen as Grayson leaned back in his chair, studying her. "You've never spoken to me like that before. I mean, we've disagreed in meetings before. I know. But that was almost targeted."

Honey met his gaze steadily. "You've never proposed something this financially unsound before. I mean you take risks and I haven't always agreed but this could potentially be dangerous to the company."

"And if I override your objections?"

"Then I'll document my concerns in writing, as is my fiduciary duty to the shareholders." She gathered her tablet, preparing to leave.

"Smith, we are still buying this company."

"You're still going to buy them? Are you insane?" She realised her voice was raised. The man may be gorgeous, but he had a god complex.

Grayson lifted an eyebrow before nodding. "Yes, I'm still going to put in an offer. But with the information you have given me, the offer will be reduced by 20%."

Honey stared at him, disbelief warring with reluctant admiration.

"Why employ me if you're going to do whatever the hell you like anyway?" Heat rose in her cheeks.

Grayson's expression remained maddeningly neutral.

"To keep me honest," Grayson finally replied, his voice measured. "To force me to justify my decisions, especially when I'm about to do something... unconventional."

Honey stared at him, trying to determine if he was mocking her. The man was infuriating. One moment he seemed to value her expertise, the next he was steamrolling over her objections.

"So, you want me to tell you when you're making a mistake, but you'll do it anyway?"

"I want you to give me all the information. Then I make the final call." His eyes narrowed slightly. "That's how this works, Smith. I take the risks; you provide the guardrails."

"Those aren't guardrails. They're warnings of a cliff you seem determined to drive off."

A short, unexpected laugh escaped him. "God, he was... infuriating."

"It's an accurate one." Honey stood her ground, clutching her tablet to her chest like a shield. "This acquisition at the price they're asking is financial suicide, even with the twenty percent reduction."

"Perhaps. But there's something about the Nortons' operation you're missing." Grayson tapped something on his keyboard, and a new document appeared in her inbox. "Their R&D department has developed a proprietary manufacturing process that will cut production costs by thirty-five percent once implemented allowing us to put more money into the supply chain."

Honey quickly scanned the document, her financial mind automatically recalculating the projections. "This wasn't in the original information given to me."

"Because they don't know what they have. Their departments don't seem to have great communication." Grayson's eyes gleamed with the predatory satisfaction she'd seen whenever he outmaneuvered a competitor. "Their technical team was telling me during a factory tour this morning."

"Why wasn't this information given to us during the meeting?"

"Because I don't want the rest of the team to know just yet. Leaks happen."

Grudgingly, Honey had to admit this changed the equation. "Even so, the timeline-"

"Will be adjusted based on your analysis. Eighteen to twenty months instead of twelve." He folded his hands on the desk. "You've done your job, Smith. You've forced me to justify my decision with actual data. That's why I employ you."

She felt oddly deflated. He had been ten steps ahead of her the entire time. "I still wish you had shared this information from the beginning."

"And missed watching you tear apart my proposal with that surgical precision of yours? Where's the fun in that?"

The comment caught her off guard. Was Grayson Taylor actually... enjoying their confrontation? God, he was... infuriating.

"I'm glad my professional dismemberment of your business strategy provides entertainment, Mr. Taylor." She couldn't keep the edge from her voice. "Next time, perhaps save us both some time and just present all the relevant facts upfront. You could have sent the files to my email and told me you didn't want everyone to know."

"Where's the fun in that?" His eyes flickered with something that might have been respect. "Have the revised presentation on my desk by four. And Smith?"

"Yes?"

"Good work today." He cut the connection before she could respond.

Honey stood there, staring at the blank screen. Had Grayson Taylor just complimented her? The same man who'd been belittling her conservative financial approach for eighteen months?

She shook her head, gathering her things. She didn't have time to analyze her boss's strange behavior, not with the presentation deadline looming. She would still add her views in the presentation so if this goes south the stockholders will know she was against it.