Framing My Cheating Husband as a Spy

My husband, Quentin Croft, and I had one job: get the backup key for the "Hydra Protocol" back to Washington.

Before boarding, however, he claimed he'd left an encrypted hard drive at the hotel and told me to board without him.

I smiled as I watched him get into the car, then pulled up the synced location tracker on my phone.

His route deviated from the hotel, heading straight for a villa on the shores of Lake Geneva.

I followed in my own car. A warm light spilled from the villa's window, where a woman holding a child stood in the doorway, waiting.

"Quentin, you're finally home. Sofia and I have missed you so much."

He took the child and planted a deep, possessive kiss on the woman's lips.

"Baby, I missed you two like crazy. Wherever you are, that's home."

Just then, my phone buzzed with a call from the FBI, demanding to know why I’d missed the secure flight.

I stared at the scene inside the window, at the family silhouetted against the light, and my voice was glacial.

"Because Quentin Croft, a senior director at the Federal Strategy and Technology Institute (FSTI), is selling state secrets to a foreign agent."

"I'm requesting immediate backup to arrest him."

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1

Not long after I hung up, Quentin's phone rang.

I don't know what was said, but the smile vanished from his face, replaced by a flash of panic.

He hastily pushed the child back into Katia's arms, grabbed his coat, and rushed for the door.

Confused, Katia grabbed his hand, her eyes pleading.

"Quentin, where are you going? Didn't you promise to spend the night with Sofia and me?"

Quentin was in no mood to explain. He shook her off and jumped into his car.

He sped back toward the airport.

After learning that I hadn't boarded the plane either, he began calling me frantically.

I ignored his desperate calls and calmly faced the two FBI agents in front of me.

The lead agent, Mark Dawson, regarded me with a grave expression.

"Ms. Sinclair, this is an extremely serious accusation. If it's found to be false, you will face severe legal consequences."

I gave a solemn nod, my words deliberate.

"Agent Dawson, I stand by every word."

"Our only objective on this mission was to escort that key back to Washington."

"A few days ago, I noticed some anomalies in our shared cloud account, so I mirrored the data. That's when I discovered he was sneaking out of the hotel every night, not returning until just before dawn."

"He was drugging my water, making sure I slept so soundly he could slip away."

"This burner phone contains his location history for every night, as well as a complete mirror of his laptop."

I pushed a phone across the table.

Dawson exchanged a look with the other agent and immediately pressed on.

"Is the key to the 'Hydra Protocol' in his possession right now?"

I nodded, then shook my head.

"For security, Quentin and I each hold half of the key."

"I can guarantee my half is secure. I can't say the same for Quentin's."

Dawson's breath hitched. He picked up the phone and stood.

"Ms. Sinclair, we need to verify this information immediately. Until we do, you'll have to remain in this conference room. I'm sure you understand."

I nodded calmly.

Quentin, still at the airport and unable to reach me, was spiraling into a full-blown panic.

He was about to head back to the hotel to find me.

Just as he stepped out of the terminal, he was surrounded by a dozen security officers from the consulate.

A dozen black barrels were aimed squarely at his head.

The color drained from his face, and his knees buckled, nearly sending him to the ground.

"Quentin Croft, you're coming with us!"

Before he could protest, two officers had his arms twisted behind his back and were shoving him into an armored vehicle.

Quentin was brought back to the consulate.

As I turned my head, our eyes met across the room.

His pupils constricted violently. Then he lost all control, roaring at me.

"Ava! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

"I'm your husband! How could you do this to me? Are you setting me up?!"

I said nothing, merely staring at him with cold detachment.

Husband? Really? Just half an hour ago, he was holding another woman, calling her "baby."

If he truly saw me as his wife… how could he fly to Geneva, to his mistress and their illegitimate daughter, on the very night I was in surgery for our miscarriage?

Whether he'd actually betrayed state secrets was irrelevant.

I just knew I had to avenge my child, who never had a chance to open their eyes to this world.

My game had just begun.