I gestured for Mr. Chen to sit at our dining table, right across from my lying husband. The lawyer opened his briefcase with practiced efficiency and slid a thick manila folder across the table. Travis stared at it like it might explode.
“What is this supposed to be?” Travis asked, his voice rising an octave.
“Divorce papers,” I said calmly, cutting into my chicken. “Along with financial fraud documentation, evidence of your fake therapy scam, and a lovely collection of photos featuring you and Rachel in front of your new house.”
Travis went white. His hand shook as he opened the folder and saw everything I’d collected. Bank transfer records, screenshots of Lily’s talent profile, printed emails about the house purchase… all of it.
“Mia, I can explain this. It’s not what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it looks like you hired a child actress to pretend to be your injured daughter so you could steal $85,000 from me to buy a house with your girlfriend.”
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