Chapter 3 - Inside the Firm (1,800 Words)Daniel’s firm, Miller & Hayes Architectural Partners—ironically sharing half a name with his mistress—was located in a sleek, restored brick building in downtown Denver. I had designed the interior lobby myself seven years ago, choosing warm oak panels and minimalist slate tiles that gave the reception area an air of uncompromising professional integrity.
Walking through those glass doors today felt entirely surreal.
The receptionist, a bright young college student named Chloe whom I had brought holiday cookies for just last year, looked up from her computer and smiled warmly. "Good morning, Mrs. Miller! Are you here to see Daniel? He usually doesn't arrive until—"
"Good morning, Chloe," I interrupted smoothly, keeping my tone light. "Actually, I’m here to drop off some urgent tax documents for the partnership files. Daniel forgot his briefcase at home, and his accountant needs these immediately."
Chloe nodded without a second thought. "Oh, of course! You can leave them on his desk in the executive suite. Do you need me to buzz you up?"
"That’s fine, Chloe. I know the way."
I took the private elevator up to the third floor, my heart pounding a steady, rhythmic beat against my ribs. The executive floor was quiet, lined with frosted glass offices belonging to senior partners and project managers.
I walked down the hallway until I found Daniel’s office door, bearing his neat brass nameplate: Daniel Miller, Senior Partner.
I tried the handle. Unlocked.
I slipped inside, closing the heavy wooden door quietly behind me. The office smelled faintly of his cedar cologne and old paper. It was a space I had helped him decorate, selecting the leather armchair where he read blueprints and the framed architectural sketches of our Breckenridge cabin hanging behind his desk.
My goal wasn't to snoop out of petty jealousy; it was to find the financial and legal footprint of Laura Hayes within his professional life. If Daniel was treating her like a primary partner in his personal life, had he also integrated her into his professional life?
I sat down in his leather desk chair and booted up his desktop computer. Fortunately, Daniel had always been predictably lazy with passwords—he used a variation of our wedding anniversary combined with our old dog’s name. Within three tries, the desktop unlocked.
I opened his corporate email client and typed Laura Hayes into the search bar.
Dozens of emails populated the screen instantly. Most were standard project management updates, structural change orders, and interior design proposals. But as I scrolled deeper into the timestamped threads dating back six months, a darker picture emerged.
Laura Hayes wasn't just a client. She was a junior structural consultant whom Daniel had hired onto his firm's payroll six months ago—right around the time their affair began—using corporate funds to pay her a consultant salary of eight thousand dollars a month. Furthermore, I found scanned PDF copies of high-end hotel reservations in Vail, Aspen, and downtown Denver, all booked under the firm's corporate expense account, categorized vaguely as Client Development Retreats.
He hadn't just cheated on me with company time; he had been subsidizing his mistress using joint marital assets and firm profits that we jointly owned.
My breath caught in my throat as I opened a folder labeled Personal & Confidential. Inside was a digital folder containing scanned copies of his passport, personal tax returns, and—most disturbingly—a draft of a post-nuptial asset division agreement dated three months ago, drafted by a corporate attorney I had never met, dividing our real estate holdings as if we were already divorced.
He hadn't just lied to Laura about us being separated; he had actively explored how to legally execute that separation behind my back while still sleeping in my bed every night.
Suddenly, the office door handle clicked.
I froze, my hand still resting on the mouse. The door swung open, and Daniel walked in, looking disheveled, having clearly driven straight from home after realizing I was gone.
When he saw me sitting at his desk with his private emails glowing on the monitor, all the blood drained from his face.
"Claire," he choked out, his voice shaking. "What... what are you doing?"
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I stood up slowly from the leather chair, looking my husband dead in the eye with a cold, absolute clarity that terrified him more than any scream ever could.
"I'm reviewing our partnership, Daniel," I said softly. "And I think your firm is about to lose its most valuable assets."
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