“How long?”
He exhaled.
“Things between us have been difficult.”
I went numb.
Some betrayals erupt.
Others merely confirm existing suspicions.
His late evenings.
Altered passwords.
His phone facedown over dinner.
Sloane knowing details about our vacations I had never told her.
Her scent lingering in his car.
For months I’d gathered evidence while desperately avoiding its conclusion, reluctant to surrender the image of the husband I had married.
Now Camden confirmed it.
“You could have left me,” I said.
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“It was simpler than destroying my career.”
“That wasn’t about Sloane.”
“Then prove it tomorrow.”
He paused briefly.
I continued.
“Bring every complaint. Every performance report. Every approval record. Every email. If I did what you said I did, prove it.”
“You don’t understand what you’re walking into.”
“No, Camden. I think that’s been the problem. I understood exactly what I was walking into for six years. I just kept pretending you were still the man who walked beside me.”
