A House of Lies

That night, after Sheldon fell asleep, I slipped his briefcase open and pulled out the files he never thought I'd touch. It contained everything—the secrets, the numbers, the dirt. I copied it all onto a flash drive.

The next morning, I set up a meeting with his biggest rival.

Ken Clayton leaned back in his chair, giving me this slow, suspicious look. "Is this some kind of setup? Everybody in this town knows you and Sheldon are ride-or-die."

He refused to believe I would sell Sheldon out.

I slid the flash drive across the table. "Check it for yourself. You'll see."

He didn't pick it up right away and just stared at me, half curious, half unconvinced. "So, what's the catch? What do you want out of this?"

"I want him flat broke," I said. "And I want half your profit when it happens."

Ken studied me for what felt like forever, then finally nodded. "Alright. Deal."

He tilted his head, smirking. "You're not scared I'll double-cross you?"

"I'm not."

Because honestly, what could be worse than sleeping next to a man who had already betrayed you?

Ken seemed to get it, and he didn't push further.

On the way back, I saw Sheldon holding Riley's little girl, Gigi Anderson, in his arms as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

My four boys trailed behind, their faces blotchy from crying, their eyes locked on the ice cream cone in her tiny hand.

"Daddy, I want one, too."

"Daddy, please, buy us one," they begged, tears rolling down their cheeks.

Gigi, only two, waved her cone in the air, grinning as if she'd won some kind of prize. My sons' cries got louder.

But Sheldon just frowned at them, his voice sharp. "Boys don't cry like babies. You're embarrassing me. If you scare Gigi like that again, I'll whip you."

He pointed at the cone. "And that's for girls. Boys don't need sweets. Don't go begging for what's not yours. You need to toughen up."

That was Sheldon's parenting—hard and stingy, never gentle.

The boys shrank back and swallowed their sobs, afraid to let another sound slip.

I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms, the pain in my chest stabbing like a blade.

I walked over and forced a smile. "Don't cry. I'll buy you ice cream."

Sheldon's eyes widened. He clearly hadn't expected to see me.

He cleared his throat and put on his usual act. "Riley's a mess, always dumping her kid on me. I told her I don't have time, but she never listens. The only reason I help at all is because our parents were close back in the day. Otherwise, I'd never do it."

He'd been badmouthing Riley for months, making her sound useless and annoying. And I had believed him. But it turned out to be all smoke and mirrors.

"Daddy," Gigi suddenly called out, soft and sweet.

Sheldon froze for a second, panic flickering in his eyes before he forced a laugh. "Kids repeat whatever they hear. Probably picked it up from our boys."

I bit my tongue, refusing to start a scene in front of the children.

Instead, I took my sons by the hands and walked them to the stand. "Four cones, please."

I'd just paid when Sheldon marched over, snatched the cones out of my hands, and tossed them straight into the trash.

"Lizzie, do you think I can't afford ice cream for our sons?" he snapped, his voice loud enough to draw stares from people passing by.

"They're boys! They don't need to be spoiled like that. It's not like we're swimming in money! You can't just give them whatever they want. That's not love—that's weakness. They're gonna grow up thinking everything will go according to their wishes. You're hurting them, not helping."

The crowd glanced between us curiously, eating up the drama as if it was free entertainment.