My Secret Life Behind My Mother-in-law’s Back

I needed my backup hard drive.

After three days of living at the office, finalizing the most important deal of my career, I found myself standing outside my own home at 2 AM, key in hand, hesitating like a thief. The house was dark except for the soft glow of the kitchen night light. Charlotte would be asleep upstairs, unaware that her husband was about to sneak into his own home.

I turned the key as quietly as possible and slipped inside. The familiar scent of Charlotte's favorite lavender candles hit me, making my chest tighten with a sudden wave of longing. This charade had gone on too long.

I made my way to my home office, careful to avoid the creaky floorboard in the hallway. The door hinges betrayed me with a soft squeal as I pushed it open.

"Gabriel?"

Charlotte's voice startled me. She stood in the doorway of our bedroom, wrapped in her silk robe, hair tousled from sleep. The dark circles under her eyes told me she hadn't been sleeping well.

"Hey," I whispered, my voice suddenly hoarse. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She crossed the distance between us in seconds, wrapping her arms around me with such force it nearly knocked me back. I held her tightly, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, feeling the warmth of her body against mine.

"Where have you been?" she asked into my shoulder. "I've been so worried."

"I'm sorry," I said, pulling back to look at her. "I needed some space after what happened with your mother."

Charlotte's eyes searched mine. "For three days? You couldn't even come home to sleep?"

I guided her to the small sofa in my office, keeping her hand in mine. "I've been working on something important. A new opportunity."

"An art opportunity?" Her tone held a note of skepticism that hadn't been there before.

"Something like that," I said carefully. "I promise I'll explain everything soon. I just need a little more time."

She pulled her hand away. "Gabriel, my mother is on the warpath. She's convinced you've abandoned me, that this proves everything she's been saying about you. Eleanor Whitman cornered me at the grocery store yesterday, offering me the name of her divorce attorney."

The anger flared in my chest. "And what did you tell her?"

"That she should mind her own damn business," Charlotte said with a flash of defiance. "But Gabriel, I can't keep defending you if I don't know what's going on."

I reached for the bottom drawer of my desk, unlocking it with the key I kept hidden behind a framed photo of us. "I know, and I'm asking for your trust just a little longer. Everything—and I mean everything—will make sense soon."

I pulled out the encrypted hard drive that contained backups of all TechNova's proprietary algorithms and slipped it into my bag.

Charlotte's eyes narrowed. "What is that?"

"Just some work I need to finish," I said, zipping the bag closed. "It's important."

"Important enough to disappear for days? Important enough to miss dinner with the curator from MoMA that my mother arranged?"

I took her hands in mine. "Yes. More important than you can imagine right now."

She studied my face for a long moment, then sighed. "You know what my mother's doing, don't you?"

"What?"

"She hired someone. A private investigator named David Morrison. I overheard her on the phone yesterday."

My blood ran cold. "What exactly did you hear?"

"She wants him to find something she can use against you. Debts, gambling, other women—anything to convince me to leave you." Charlotte's voice cracked slightly. "Is there something to find, Gabriel?"

I cupped her face gently. "Nothing like what she's hoping for. I promise."

My phone buzzed in my pocket—Marcus, no doubt, wondering where I was with the backup files. I ignored it.

"I should go," I said reluctantly.

"Wait," Charlotte caught my arm. "I need to know one thing. Are we okay?"

I kissed her softly, pouring three years of secrets and apologies into that single moment of contact. "We're more than okay. We're about to start a whole new chapter."

As I turned to leave, my phone rang again. I answered without thinking.

"Hastings," I said automatically.

"Gabriel, it's Marcus. The board's asking about the valuation models. Do you have the equity breakdown ready for the morning meeting?"

I felt Charlotte's eyes on me as I responded. "Yes, I have the files. I'll review the final term sheets when I get there."

I hung up, meeting Charlotte's confused gaze.

"Valuation? Equity? Board meetings?" she questioned. "That doesn't sound like art world jargon, Gabriel."

"It's complicated," I said lamely. "Just art business stuff."

Her expression told me she wasn't buying it anymore. The clock was ticking down on my elaborate deception.

As I left our home for what would be the last night of my double life, I couldn't help wondering what Rebecca's private investigator would find—and what would happen when the truth finally came to light.