Wife's Betrayal, Best Friend's Stab

whiskey inside. It was my third anniversary. Three years of being Alex Miller, husba

his own blood to protect it. He saw something in me, an orphan from a foster home with a head for numbers and a loyalty he cou

ied to. I poured everything I had into being the husband she nev

f the bargain by making

. She dropped her designer bag on the marble floor, the so

," she said. It w

anniversar

humor in it. "Right. The anniversary of m

arge, leather-bound scrapbook from a shopping bag I hadn't noticed and tossed

said, her voice dripping with s

mbled slightly

d in the arms of a handsome, dark-haired man on a yacht. The captio

ed the

in a hotel suite, Chloe in a silk robe, a

A scrapbook of her infidelity. A meticulously curated catalog of my humiliati

curious to see how far she had gone. My eyes scanned names

I sto

ighty-

on. My best friend. My brother. The guy I grew up with in the foster home, the

sloshed, but I didn't feel it. All I could

he leaned in, her breath smelling of champagne. "I was so bored of the usua

icture. "He was number eighty-seven. But don' t

, meeting her cold, blue eyes in

voice was a

. To see if you even care. Do you, Alex? Do you really love me? Or do you j

rapbook and shoved i

favorites in. You could manage it for me. My own personal harem keeper. There' s just one rule,"

buried every piece of my own dignity to uphold a promise to a dead man. I

y in my wife' s eyes, a crack appeared in the foundation of my life

a nec