Part 3The Ex-Wife’s Billion Dollar Payday

When I got home that evening, the living room had been entirely restored. The Baccarat vase had been replaced with an identical piece.

That was the beauty of extreme wealth. Nothing was ever truly lost. As long as you had the capital, even the rarest things could be seamlessly replaced.

I sat in the cavernous, eerily quiet living room, a sheet mask cooling my face, sipping warm milk and listening to the wind rattling the massive bay windows.

Justin wasn't home. Neither was Theo.

My private investigator had just texted me an update: the three of them were having dinner at a high-end Italian place. The photos loaded on my screen. Justin wore a soft, genuine smile. Theo’s eyes were bright and engaged.

It was fascinating, really, how much the two of them adored Daphne.

Aside from the fact that she shared my coloring and bone structure, we were entirely different species. She came from a working-class background and wasn't particularly bright. Her sole currency was her endless patience and docile sweetness.

I, on the other hand, had been a firecracker since birth.

My relationship with Justin had started over a stupid high school misunderstanding. One of my friends got her heart broken by a guy named "Crawford." Thinking it was Justin—the undisputed king of the prep school—I cornered him in the parking lot and tore him a new one in front of half the lacrosse team.

After my tirade, my friend nervously whispered that it was his cousin, a completely different Crawford.

Justin had glared at me, his jaw tight. "You just humiliated me. How are you going to fix this?"

My brain short-circuited. I pushed my shoulders back and blurted, "Can I take you to dinner to make up for it?"

He blushed scarlet.

Our love story had played out like an indie coming-of-age movie. Everyone knew how obsessed Justin was with me. At our wedding, he choked on his vows and cried so hard he almost passed out. When my mother died, he held me on the bathroom floor for hours, weeping into my hair, swearing he would protect me until his last breath.

But the shelf life of true love is notoriously short. Five years into the marriage, he had his first affair.

Then came the second. The third. And finally, Daphne.

Watching the photos of them, I felt a strange sense of vertigo. It felt like I was watching eighteen-year-old Gemma and twenty-eight-year-old Justin falling in love all over again.

Around ten o'clock, the front door opened. Justin had dropped Theo off.

He had cooled down from the morning's rage. Seeing me on the sofa, he even mustered a semblance of domestic care.

"How are the babies?"

"Fine," I said.

"The checkup?"

"Normal."

Justin fell silent, looking away.

I didn't say anything either. I just swiped to the next photo on my iPad.

He lingered in the foyer. After a minute of silence, he spoke up. "I just wanted to drop Theo off. I'll head out now."

I didn't even look up. "Okay. Drive safe."

The silence stretched. I didn't hear the sound of his footsteps leaving.

I finally looked up. He was still standing there.

"Did you need something else?"

He pressed his lips together. "You... you look really good tonight."

Is he out of his mind?

"Thanks," I deadpanned.