My Sister, a Pilot, Asked If My Husband Was Home — Seconds Later, Everything Fell Apart

Sophia and I had been roommates at NYU. Her divorce from Richard—the Wall Street trader who’d been sleeping with his assistant—had transformed her into someone who specialized in what she called marital reconnaissance.

While I waited, I dug deeper. Our investment accounts showed withdrawals I didn’t recognize—small amounts, always just under the thresholds that triggered alerts. The kind of systematic siphoning I’d seen in countless fraud cases.

Sophia arrived in her usual all-black ensemble, tablet held against her chest, expression grim.

“The woman your sister saw him with is Madison Vale,” Sophia said. “Twenty-six. Pharmaceutical sales rep for Sylex Industries.”

A photo appeared—blonde, conventionally beautiful, polished.

“She’s been working Manhattan territory for two years.”

The images that followed made my stomach drop. Madison and Aiden at restaurants. Madison and Aiden at hotel bars. Madison and Aiden at a charity gala—the same night I’d been in Boston for a conference.

“How long?” My voice sounded distant.

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