My Wife Said: "You're Obsessed With His Wealth." His Wealth Obsessed Her More. Enough To Lie... скачать в хорошем качестве

My Wife Said: "You're Obsessed With His Wealth." His Wealth Obsessed Her More. Enough To Lie...

My Wife Said: "You're Obsessed With His Wealth." His Wealth Obsessed Her More. Enough To Lie... I set my coffee mug down carefully, the warmth seeping into my palms as if it could steady the storm inside me. Three months of discreet surveillance, meticulous record-keeping, and quiet observation had brought me here. Catherine thought she was untouchable—high heels clicking across hardwood floors, designer bags dangling from her arm, laughter spilling into the night over dinners I wouldn’t attend. But obsession wasn’t mine. Precision was. Documentation. Evidence. Patterns. Habits. Everything she’d tried to keep private—her late nights, the receipts for overpriced restaurants, the hidden jewelry—were now neatly filed in encrypted folders on my laptop. I opened the folder labeled “Thornton Connections”. Screenshots of credit card statements from the last six months. Photos of gifts I’d never received. Emails sent at two in the morning with subject lines like “Important Lunch Meeting”—all pointing to the same conclusion: she wasn’t just indulging in luxury. She was cultivating a separate life. My phone buzzed. Samir’s name flashed across the screen, a reminder that I wasn’t alone in this. He’d been my partner in investigations back in college before we went our separate ways into finance and tech, and now he was the kind of friend who could dig into public records and make sense of patterns that looked meaningless to anyone else. "Coffee later? Found something interesting about your guy." I didn’t need to read between the lines. Richard Thornton, venture capitalist extraordinaire, married to Margaret, socialite and charity queen, worth a staggering forty million dollars, and—crucially—someone who had everything to lose if exposed. I exhaled slowly, letting the information settle. This wasn’t about jealousy. This was about clarity, exposure, and control. Every luxurious handbag, every late-night “meeting,” every hidden expense—Catherine had woven herself into a web of lies. And now, I had the thread that could unravel it all. The faint hum of my laptop fan filled the room as I began cross-referencing transactions, timestamps, and travel records. Every detail mattered. Every anomaly was a clue. The woman who had once whispered “I love you” in this very kitchen was now a stranger, measured not by affection but by ambition, indulgence, and opportunity. And I was ready to watch the truth unfold.