I never told my husband I knew about his affair. He gave me just $200 a month to survive—while buying his mistress a Birkin bag. I left divorce papers behind and walked away when a luxury car blocked my path. A billionaire stepped out and made me an offer: “Delay the divorce by one month. I’ll give you $200 million.” I said yes. That choice rewrote my life.

I looked out the window at the rain. I thought about the two hundred dollars on the counter. I thought about the years of insults, the loneliness, the way David looked through me like I was glass.

He thought I was weak. He thought I was stupid.

“Thirty days,” I said.

“Thirty days,” Julian confirmed.

“Deal.”

I took the check.

“Drive her back,” Julian told the driver.

I walked back up the driveway. I entered the house. It was still silent. I picked up the two hundred dollars. I picked up the receipt. I tore up the divorce papers and threw them in the trash.

I went upstairs and unpacked.

When David walked through the door two hours later, smelling of wine and Santal 33, I was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables.

He threw his keys on the table. “I’m tired. Don’t bother me with questions tonight.”

“Of course, David,” I said, my voice meek. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

He didn’t notice the cold gleam in my eyes. He didn’t know that the woman standing in his kitchen was no longer his wife. She was a spy. And she was the most expensive thing in the room.

Chapter 3: Cat and Mouse
The next thirty days were a performance worthy of an Oscar.

I played the role of the devoted, oblivious housewife perfectly. I cooked his favorite meals. I ironed his shirts with crisp precision. I asked about his day with wide, adoring eyes.

“How is the deal with the conglomerate going?” I asked one evening over roast chicken.

David smirked, cutting his meat. “It’s going great. The CEO, Julian, is a tough nut, but I think I’ve got an in. His wife, Jessica… she’s putting in a good word for me.”

“That’s wonderful, honey,” I said, pouring him more wine. “You’re so charming. I’m sure she sees your potential.”

David preened. “Exactly. You know, Clara, this deal is going to change everything. We’re talking millions.”

“You should invest everything you have,” I suggested innocently. “Show them you’re serious. If you put skin in the game, Julian will respect you.”

David stopped chewing. He looked at me, surprised. “You think? Usually, you’re telling me to be cautious.”

“I believe in you,” I lied. “If Jessica says it’s a sure thing, it must be. Her husband is a billionaire, right?”

“Right,” David nodded slowly. “You’re finally getting smarter, Clara. I like it.”

While David was busy digging his own grave, I was meeting Julian.

We met twice a week in safe houses or the back of his car. I gave him copies of David’s text messages, bank statements, and the emails he thought he had deleted.

But our meetings became… more.

One rainy Tuesday, I met Julian in his private library in the city. It was a massive room filled with first editions and the smell of old paper.

“You look tired,” Julian said. He wasn’t looking at the documents I handed him. He was looking at my face.

“It’s exhausting pretending to love a man I despise,” I admitted, sinking into a leather armchair.

“I know,” Julian said softly. He walked over to a sideboard and poured two glasses of scotch. He handed one to me.