The pop-up bloomed on my husband’s laptop screen like a toxic flower. I’d been using his desktop in the home office to stream a show, a moment of quiet indulgence, when the AI assistant he was developing for the company made its presence known. [Hey there, boss man ? Time to log off. We need you rested for our main event tonight… ?] The font was a bubbly, almost childish script, framed by an explosion of digital pink hearts. I stared, the sound from my show fading into a dull roar in my ears. A single screenshot was all it took. I found him across town, charming a client over lunch at a rooftop restaurant. I didn’t wait for their small talk to conclude. I simply walked up to the table, phone in hand, and slid it in front of him. The screenshot glowed. “Care to explain?” Julian’s smile faltered for only a fraction of a second. Then, it returned, wider and more indulgent than before. He reached out and pinched my cheek, a gesture meant to be endearing that felt deeply condescending. “Sweetheart, relax. It’s just the in-house beta for a new AI companion. I’m running the final tests myself.” I held his gaze, my expression unreadable. “I see.” I nodded calmly, retrieved my phone, and turned to leave. Before I was even out of the restaurant, I was on a call to a trusted contact in our IT department. The IP address behind that "virtual girlfriend" was in my hands less than an hour later. I posted it in the company-wide executive channel, a digital space normally reserved for quarterly reports and market analysis. [Whoever this belongs to has one hour to come forward. Consider this your only chance at a graceful exit.] If you’re going to play me for a fool with my own money, you’d better be prepared for a very public, very ugly ruin. Chapter 1 The executive channel, usually buzzing with activity, fell into a dead, watchful silence. Five minutes later, the door to my office burst open. Julian. His forehead was beaded with sweat, his breathing ragged. He looked genuinely panicked. “Eleanor, please. It’s just a program. A test. You have to believe me.” He hadn't come alone. A few of the company’s senior staff, the old guard loyal to him, trailed in his wake, ready to close ranks. “He’s right, Mrs. Croft,” our Head of Development said earnestly. “It’s a closed-loop internal beta. There’s no live operator on the other end.” “The dialogue is all pre-scripted,” another added, her tone placating. “Just placeholder content to test user engagement metrics.” Our Director of Technology, a man I’d known for years, even produced meeting minutes, pointing to a specific line item. “See, Eleanor? ‘AI Companion Dialogue Templates.’ We all brainstormed them. The goal was to increase user affinity and… stickiness.” He winced at the corporate jargon, knowing how I hated it. “Julian was just doing his due diligence for the team’s project. It would kill us to think you’d misunderstand his commitment.” Their words were a carefully constructed wall of defense, brick after brick laid to protect him. Julian took my hand, his eyes wide with the sincerity that had once been my undoing. “Honey, I am so sorry this upset you. I hate that it made you unhappy for even a second. If you don't like it, I'll pull the plug on the test right now. I’ll never touch it again.” He knew just how to wield that earnestness. It was the same look he’d given me when he was a brilliant, broke nobody with a world-changing idea. I hadn't invested in the idea; I’d invested in him, in that unwavering belief in his eyes. I remembered the nights he’d slept at the office for two weeks straight, trying to make his first venture profitable. I never once questioned his dedication, just kept our home a sanctuary for him to return to. When he needed capital, I went to my father and not only secured the seed money but negotiated a deal where Julian would retain all profits for the first five years. That first business failed. I didn’t blame him. I told him he’d earned a priceless education in entrepreneurship and used my influence to bring him into my father's company, Vance Sterling. The day he was promoted to President, at a party thrown in his honor, he proposed to me for the second time. He swore his love would remain as pure and fierce as it was in the beginning, that I would always be the only one. Every year on our anniversary, he would propose again, a ritual to prove, he said, that his heart had never strayed. By all accounts, his loyalty should have been forged in steel. I pressed my fingers to my temples, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. “I understand,” I said, waving them away. “I won’t pursue it any further.” A collective sigh of relief filled the room as they filed out. Julian’s shoulders slumped as he let out his own breath. He moved to embrace me, but I held up a hand, stopping him. I had already seen the full chat logs. The AI assistant messaged him every half hour. While most were benign reminders about his schedule or the weather, the language was cloyingly intimate, sometimes bordering on suggestive. And then there were the stickers—a custom set of reaction GIFs, all featuring the same woman, her face always artfully obscured. The curve of her neck, the line of her jaw, a hand brushing back a strand of hair. It was unmistakably the same person. Doubt, once planted, is a weed that grows in the dark. I had to know. Feigning a headache, I excused myself to the restroom. From the cool, quiet of the marble stall, I forwarded the IP address to a different contact—someone whose loyalty was to my family, not to my husband. The response came back in minutes. The user was located inside the Vance Sterling building. Cross-referencing the IP with HR network assignments took another ten minutes. And then I had a name. Chloe. A new intern in the Operations department. A sharp, acidic pang shot through my chest. No live operator, they had said. A chorus of liars, all of them. And now I had her name, her file, her face. The elevator ride down to the fourteenth floor felt like a slow, cold descent. I saw her immediately. In a sea of employees focused on their screens, she was the only one with a reality show playing in full-screen mode on her monitor. Her desk was an island of luxury: a row of expensive hand creams, imported snacks, and a personal humidifier humming softly, puffing a cloud of scented mist just for her. I walked into the open-plan office. Her eyes flickered towards me, a flash of recognition or perhaps alarm. In a single, swift motion, she slapped a small, framed photo on her desk face down. Chapter 2 As I approached her desk, she paused her show with a lazy click of the mouse. My hands tightened into fists at my sides. Had Julian given her this… this bubble of privilege? “Excuse me,” I began, my voice even and cool. “Is your workload so light that you have time for television?” Chloe glanced up at me, an unimpressed look on her young face. “I take a break when I’m tired. What’s it to you? Are you from facilities? Paper recycling is down the hall.” The employee at the next desk looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, but she managed a choked whisper. “Chloe… that’s Mrs. Croft. The founder’s daughter. The President’s wife.” Chloe’s eyes widened in feigned innocence. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I just… I always pictured the President’s wife as being so glamorous. The thought never even crossed my mind. My mistake.” Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. Before I could speak, Chloe’s gaze darted to a point somewhere behind me, and her eyes instantly welled with tears. Her voice became a fragile whisper. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Croft… I’ll get back to work right away…” “What’s going on here?” Julian’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the office quiet from behind me. Instantly, the previously silent employees swarmed, their voices a chorus of concerned chatter. “Mrs. Croft was criticizing Chloe’s work ethic. The poor girl got so upset.” “Chloe finished all her tasks for the day. Her team lead said she could take a break. Mrs. Croft is being a little harsh.” I was stunned. Just moments ago, these people were silent, terrified of being caught in the crossfire. The second Julian appeared, they found their courage—all of it aimed squarely at me, in defense of her. “Enough,” Julian snapped. He pointed a stern finger at Chloe. “You. My office. Tomorrow morning. You’ll be reporting your work progress directly to me from now on.” Chloe lowered her head in submission, but I saw it—the ghost of a triumphant smirk on her lips. My heart twisted. Was it a punishment, or an invitation for a private rendezvous? I composed myself, raising my voice to address the entire department. “Actually, I’m not here to monitor productivity. I’m here to announce a corporate-wide hardware upgrade, starting with this department. Every computer is being replaced, effective immediately.” A wave of surprised excitement rippled through the staff. Only Chloe pouted. “That’s so sudden. I’m used to my computer. Can I opt out?” “No,” Julian said, his tone final. He then turned to me, a placating smile on his face. “My wife speaks for me on this. You will all follow her lead.” Chloe stared at him, her face flushing with disbelief and anger. I didn’t spare her another glance. I told Julian I was heading home and left without waiting for him. He came home early that evening, looking for all the world like a remorseful husband. In one hand, he held a cake from my favorite bakery; in the other, the designer handbag I’d admired a few weeks ago. His face was a mask of guilt. “Eleanor, I’m sorry. The AI beta test has been reassigned. I promise I will never again engage with anything that makes you doubt me.” I accepted the gifts, my voice flat. “It was for work. I understand.” He sighed, pulling me into an embrace I did not return. His voice was thick with manufactured pain. “I know I’ve been neglecting you. I’m sorry. My phone password is your birthday. You can check it anytime you want. I have nothing to hide.” I nodded against his chest, saying nothing. Later, while he was in the shower, I opened his phone. It was pristine. Spotless. No suspicious apps, no hidden folders. And then, a notification lit up the screen. A text from a delivery service. [Your order from The Daily Grind has been delivered. Enjoy the hot beverage!] He’d ordered it for her. For her cramps, a little voice in my head whispered. Before coming home to apologize to me with cakes and handbags, he had made sure his mistress was comfortable. My hand trembled, the phone suddenly feeling impossibly heavy. I almost dropped it. He had become a stranger who wore my husband’s face. Chapter 3 I slept in the guest room. Sleep, however, never came. By morning, the tech team had replaced every computer in the Operations department. I located the tower that had belonged to Chloe and had my specialist retrieve it. Within hours, he had recovered the entire hard drive. Her machine also had a client for the AI assistant. And just as I suspected, the chat logs were all there. She was the AI, Julian’s “virtual girlfriend.” The theory I had wrestled with all night was now a cold, hard fact. A tremor ran through my hands. He had mobilized company resources, coerced senior employees into lying for him, all to protect this… affair. With a shaking hand, I clicked open the chat history. I saw now that the logs on his computer had been heavily edited. Hers told the full story. Julian, the doting lover, was a character I had never known. To buy her a single latte without raising suspicion, he’d ordered coffee for her entire fifty-person department. To ensure her internship was a breeze, he lowered the performance quotas for everyone on her team. He asked her what color stockings she was wearing. What style of underwear. They had a place. A meeting spot they called their “nest.” Just last week, they had planned to meet there. She had asked if she should bring a morning-after pill. His reply was simple: No need. Followed by another message. [Our baby would be stronger than anything she could ever carry.] The words on the screen blurred. I felt as if lightning had struck the base of my spine. Last year, I was pregnant with his child. Our child. He came home one night after a client dinner, drunk. He called me to open the garage door for him, and in his stupor, he hit the accelerator instead of the brake. He pinned me against the wall. The baby was gone. When he sobered up, he fell to his knees, sobbing, begging for forgiveness. He swore he would pray for our lost child’s soul every single day. I had forgiven him. For us, for our future, I had buried the pain and forgiven him. And now this. The man who killed our child was telling another woman that I was too weak to be a mother. A tremor, violent and cold, seized my entire body. I gripped the mouse so hard I thought the plastic might crack. I sat there in the dark, the screen’s glow illuminating my face, until the city lights outside my window began to blur into the dawn. My life, thirty years of it, felt like it was fracturing at the seams. I saved everything, every file, every chat log. Then I drove to the office to find Julian, who had texted me to say he was working late. I saw his car in his designated VIP spot in the underground garage, its lights flashing once as he unlocked it. And then I saw them. He and Chloe, emerging from two different elevator banks, their paths converging at his black sedan. I shrank back into the shadows behind a concrete pillar. They didn’t even make it into the car. The moment they reached each other, they fell into a desperate, hungry kiss, like two lovers who had been starved of each other for years. When the kiss finally broke, Julian framed her face with his hands, his voice a low, intense murmur. “Just wait. As soon as I’m named Chairman tomorrow, I’ll find a way to make Eleanor… disappear. Then we can be together, forever.” Chloe gazed up at him, her eyes shining with adoration. “I know you’ve been planning this for years, Julian. I’ll wait. I know you’ll succeed.” A chill so profound it felt like ice water flooding my veins shot up my spine. My knees buckled, and I had to brace myself against the pillar to keep from collapsing. My heart felt like it was being shredded. This wasn't just an affair. It was a long con. My entire life with him, our marriage, his career… it was all a stepping stone. He had used me. He had used my family. He had used our dead child. I waited until their taillights vanished up the ramp before I stumbled out of the darkness. I didn’t go home that night. Julian called and texted, a frantic barrage of feigned concern. I sent him a single reply: [See you at the shareholder meeting tomorrow.] That was all it took. He immediately relaxed, texting back a simple, “Sleep well, honey,” not even bothering to ask where I was. The next day, I walked into the boardroom precisely on time. Julian’s face lit up when he saw me. He rushed over with the proxy voting form. As the majority shareholder, I usually delegated my voting rights to him. Today was his coronation, the day he would leverage my shares to secure the Chairmanship of my father’s company. My 40% stake would guarantee his victory. I signed the document. As I handed it back, I glanced across the room and saw Chloe, standing proudly among the employee representatives, a smug smile on her face.
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