The enemy in my bed

I let him hold me later that night.

His arms wrapped around me as if they still had the right to. His breath warmed my skin, each exhale heavy with regret, but not the kind that mattered. He wasn't sorry for betraying me. He was sorry for being caught.

I didn't pull away. I let him murmur those tired apologies against my temple, let his fingers trace absentminded patterns down my back. I let him think he still had me.

And in that moment, with my head resting against his chest, I made my decision.

I would not leave.

I would not scream or cry, would not give him the satisfaction of watching me break. He would not know my rage, would not hear the vengeance dripping from my thoughts.

Instead, I would stay.

I would smile.

And I would destroy him.

---

*Two Weeks Later*

He thought I had forgiven him.

I saw it in the way he touched me, the way he kissed my temple before leaving for work, the way he relaxed into the illusion I had so carefully crafted. The guilt was still there, lingering beneath the surface, but it had dulled, soothed by my quiet acceptance.

That was his first mistake.

The second was underestimating me.

The moment he was gone, I sat at his desk and powered on his laptop. The soft glow of the screen reflected against my face as I flexed my fingers over the keyboard. He hadn't changed his passwords.

How pathetic.

Did he believe my forgiveness so completely that he thought I wouldn't look? That I wouldn't take what was mine?

I typed swiftly, years of practice guiding my hands. He had always assumed I was just another pretty wife with no real talents beyond hosting dinner parties and dressing in silk. He never questioned the long hours I spent on my own, never wondered what I did with my time when he was "working late."

He had no idea who he had married.

A few keystrokes, and I was inside.

Emails. Bank accounts. Private messages.

At first, I scanned them, seeking only evidence of his infidelity. But as I dug deeper, I found something far more interesting.

There were numbers that didn't add up. Transactions funneled through shell companies. Names that meant nothing to the average person, but to someone who knew how to look, they screamed *criminal.*

A cheating husband was one thing. A husband with secrets that could ruin him forever?

Now that was something I could use.

I leaned back in his chair, my mind already spinning through possibilities. If I moved too fast, he'd realize what was happening. But if I played this right, if I peeled back the layers of his life piece by piece, he would never see the knife until it was buried in his back.

A slow smile curved my lips.

*This is only the beginning, my love.*