The Christmas Feast That Exposed His Affair

On Christmas night, my husband, Finnick Carson, can't spend the holidays with me because he's on a business trip. In order to make it up to me, he's specifically ordered a Christmas feast from a fancy restaurant and has it delivered to our home. But when I open the box containing the feast, I'm shell-shocked by what I see. Not only an array of seafood—that I'm allergic to—is arranged in containers, but there's also a kid's meal set included in the feast. When the deliveryman sees the food, he apologizes to me and tells me that he's mixed up the two meals that Finnick has ordered. This leaves me feeling uneasy. Why would my husband order two meals? So, I decide to find my way to the delivery address that the other meal is meant for. Shockingly enough, I see Finnick standing in a villa's backyard while picking candies from a Christmas tree with a mother and a son. The little boy then rushes into his arms happily. "Daddy, I'd like an amusement park for my birthday gift this year!" Finnick pinches his cheek gently. "Okay. I'll give your mommy a set of jewelry, too." The woman cuddles with him happily. "You're so nice to us, honey!" Having recorded the entire scene quietly, I send it to my lawyer. "Help me expedite my divorce so that my husband can reunite with his family as soon as possible." Chapter 1 The Christmas lights outside were still blinking, but all I could see was Finnick Carson and his picture-perfect family of three. I never would've imagined this. The man who once promised to protect me for the rest of my life had turned around and built a family with someone else. When I got back, I collapsed onto the couch, curling into myself as the sobs finally broke free. We had been together for years and married for five, and I had always believed we would be together forever. I knew how demanding his work was, so I never tried to limit his freedom. Even when friends told me they had seen him shopping with another woman, I had defended him without hesitation, insisting she was just a client. In the end, every bit of trust I gave him came back to bite me. I cried until my entire body felt drained, and it was only after the crushing pain in my chest slowly eased that I wiped my tears and forced myself to calm down. Breaking down wouldn't help, and neither would crying. If I wanted justice, the only thing that mattered was the evidence in my hands. I called a lawyer, and he got back to me quickly. "Ms. Stafford, a single video isn't enough to make him walk away with nothing. If you want a better share of the assets and real leverage, you'll need more substantial evidence." I held my phone and sighed, but I couldn't bring myself to say a word. … Early the next morning, I contacted the most reliable private investigator in the industry, and I gave him only one instruction. I wanted to know everything about the other woman. Three days later, when the report was placed in front of me, all I felt was a bitter sense of irony. Her name was Yvonne Lane. She was a low-income student Finnick had sponsored years ago. I had never met her, but I had genuinely felt sorry for her. Every time I went through my closet, I would pick out clothes that were still in great condition, jewelry I had barely worn, and even designer bags clients had gifted me, asking Finnick to pass them along to her. I had even joked with him that girls liked pretty things and that if she could use them, helping her out a little was the least I could do. To me, she had always been just a girl who needed help, and I had never once been on guard around her. Before all of this, it had never crossed my mind that Finnick would cheat, because he really had treated me well. After we got married, he didn't want me to work so hard and told me he could provide for the family, urging me to simply enjoy life. No matter where I went, he would call me multiple times to ask where I was, and I had always thought it was a sign that he cared about me. I never imagined it was just his way of tracking my movements so he could hide his cheating. No wonder he managed to have a child with another woman without me noticing a thing. At that moment, the private investigator sent over the full report. On the day Yvonne graduated, she invited Finnick to her ceremony. That night, after they had been drinking, things went too far between them. Not long after, she became pregnant, and once the child was born, Finnick fell for her completely. He bought her a house, got her settled, and promised her a future, and the three of them built a life that appeared full and happy. I stared at that line for a long time before everything suddenly made sense. No wonder Finnick told me Yvonne had found a good job right after she graduated and was financially independent, so she no longer needed me to send her anything. Back then, I had even praised him for doing something kind and had genuinely felt happy for her, but now, I understood that Yvonne had landed herself a rich guy. Naturally, she wouldn't care about the things I had given her. In the photos, Yvonne wore top luxury brands, draped in jewelry worth millions of dollars, and lived in a mansion Finnick had bought for her. Meanwhile, I, his legal wife, had spent Christmas Eve holding a seafood platter filled with allergens, like a complete joke. A dull ache spread through my chest, but no tears came this time. The love I thought I had and the marriage I believed in had all been a lie, and the man I had given everything to had worked with someone else to play me for a fool. In that case, if what they wanted was their perfect little family, then I would give it to them. Chapter 2 I didn't sleep at all that night, and I lay there staring into the darkness until morning came. It wasn't until then that I heard the fingerprint lock at the door, and Finnick walked in, his body weighed down with fatigue, the exhaustion in his eyes obvious. "I'm sorry, honey. I worked late last night, and I have another project tonight, so I won't be coming home." He spoke so naturally that anyone would've believed him. Exhausted? More like worn out in bed. What I had seen last night was burned into my mind, but I didn't let it show on my face and merely gave a faint hum in response. I even stepped forward to take his coat, acting exactly the way I always had, because I knew it wasn't the time to confront him yet. Once I steadied myself, I pulled up the information the private investigator had sent me. Yvonne was planning to commission a batch of high-end jewelry in the next few days, and it just so happened that I owned a jewelry design studio with a decent reputation. Using the studio account, I followed her on Instagram, and she accepted the request almost immediately. The moment I explained why I was reaching out, a voice message came through, dripping with disdain. "A small studio like yours thinks it can design jewelry for me? My husband spoils me. I only ever wear high-end pieces. I don't just throw on whatever." Every word was meant to show off how much Finnick spoiled her. My stomach turned, and I had to grip my phone tightly just to keep the anger from spilling over. I forced myself to calm down and typed out a series of compliments, praising her looks and her elegance, telling her she clearly carried herself like someone deeply loved. Then, I sent over samples of custom pieces my studio had created for A-list celebrities, knowing that people like her would always fall for that. Sure enough, her attitude softened, and her tone became noticeably more relaxed. I took the chance to click on her Instagram. As I scrolled, it felt like my heart was splintering. Almost every post featured gifts from Finnick, including limited-edition bags, rare jewelry, and even keys to luxury cars, each one paired with captions filled with happiness and pride. Finnick's business had grown significantly, but I had grown up around it and knew exactly how hard it was to make money. I only bought luxury items occasionally, just enough to keep up appearances, and I had never been willing to spend large amounts of cash just to pile up things like that. Finnick, on the other hand, had always told me, in that calm, reasonable tone of his, that love wasn't measured by money and didn't need to be proven with material things. It turned out that it wasn't that he didn't like spending money. He just chose to spend it on someone else. The pain in my chest tightened again, sharper than before. While Yvonne kept going on about how generous he was, I stared at those messages until the last trace of warmth in my eyes faded, knowing that every dollar she spent would come back to me, with interest, down to the last cent. Chapter 3 If I were going to do this, then I needed to gather as much evidence as possible. Using the jewelry order as an excuse, I continued coaxing Yvonne, "For custom pieces, we'll need to register some of your details for verification later. Could you send me your husband's name and contact information?" She didn't hesitate for a second and gave me Finnick's name right away. She added, almost as if she was worried I wouldn't take it seriously, "Just don't mess this up. My husband isn't someone you can offend." My fingers trembled slightly as I typed my next message. "You seem really happy. You and your husband must be deeply in love. Would you mind telling me how you met? And if you have any photos of the two of you together, that would help, too. I can design something more personal based on your story." The next second, she sent over a full set of wedding photos. In it, she wore a white wedding gown, leaning into Finnick's arms with a soft smile. The way he looked at her carried a kind of warmth I had never once received. When we got married, he had been at a critical point in his career. Back then, he told me wedding photos were just something people did to indulge themselves and that his time shouldn't be wasted on that kind of thing. But it wasn't that he didn't understand romance. He just never bothered giving it to me. Yvonne kept bragging, her messages popping up one after another. "My husband's really good to me. He never upsets me." "Yeah, he's married, but he doesn't care about her anymore. I'm the only one he cares about." "She can't even have kids. Everything he has is going to my son and me anyway." She laid everything out like it was something to be proud of, like proof that she had won. I stared at the screen, my chest tightening with every word, and still, I played along. "You're really lucky. Not everyone gets to be loved like that. I'm really envious. Don't worry. I'll make sure the piece is done with the best materials." Flattered, she kept talking, going into detail about how they met and fell for each other, completely unaware that I was recording everything. The large money transfers, the house, and the car—every single thing he gave her had come from money we earned together. The more I saw, the more numb I felt. The money I had hesitated to spend and that he told me we needed to save had poured all of it into someone else. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I set my phone aside and covered my mouth, sobbing quietly. All those years we had been together, I was the only one playing for keeps. When I finally stopped, I wiped my face, the corners of my lips lifting into a cold smirk. Crying wouldn't change anything. If I wanted everything back, I had to take it myself. After pulling myself together, I changed into a formal outfit and went to his company as his wife. As I walked through the office, every employee lowered their head when they saw me. No one met my eyes, and their expressions were nervous. They had all known, but they just never told me. I didn't stop. I walked straight to the CEO's office and pushed the door open. The moment it opened, the scene inside hit me like a punch to the gut. Yvonne was sitting on Finnick's lap, her arms looped around his neck, laughing. Finnick looked at her, his expression tender. They both turned at the sound. The second Yvonne saw me, her face drained of color, and she scrambled off his lap. Finnick froze, and for a moment, he couldn't even speak. Chapter 4 I stood in the doorway, looking straight at Finnick as I pointed at Yvonne. "Who is she?" Finnick's expression shifted immediately, his voice laced with panic. "What are you doing here? She's my new assistant. Something came up at home, so I was just talking to her." Assistant? I almost laughed. Yvonne stood off to the side, pale, not even daring to look at me, and there wasn't a trace of composure one would expect from someone in the corporate world. I deliberately frowned, letting my voice sharpen. "What does whatever's going on in her life have to do with you? Or is there something going on between you—" Yvonne was so intimidated that she started trembling. "Mrs. Carson, please don't misunderstand. Nothing is going on between Mr. Carson and me." She fumbled with her phone and pulled up a picture. "I'm married. If you don't believe me, just look. This is my son." I took the phone, glanced at it, and acted as if I believed her. "Hmph! With how you look, I doubt he'd be interested anyway." Then, I turned back to Finnick, my expression twisting with anger. "You've been gone a lot lately, barely even coming home. At this point, I'm starting to think you've got someone else!" I made a show of it, moving around the office, opening drawers, and looking through things. A few of the employees had already started peeking in. In the end, I acted like I came up empty-handed, shot Finnick a glare, and walked out, slamming the door behind me. The moment I left the office, my phone rang with a call from Finnick. He sounded furious. "Why can't you just talk things out like a normal person? You came in and made a scene right in front of everyone. Are you trying to make a joke out of me?" I let out a humorless laugh and hung up. The truth was that it was a performance I had put on just for them. As long as they believed I was acting out of emotion and had nothing to back it up, they would let their guard down and walk straight into the trap I had laid out. Not long after, Yvonne messaged me, saying she needed to delay payment. Her tone carried a hint of irritation. "I don't know what's gotten into his wife lately. She's been keeping an eye on him nonstop. It's not the time for her to find out yet. If she does, it's going to be a mess." I went along with it and coaxed her, but she only got bolder and began shamelessly insulting me. "So what if she's his wife? She still can't compete with me. Finnick stopped caring about her a long time ago. Ever since we graduated, I'm the only one he's ever cared about. "I gave him a son. What does she have? That hag can't even have kids! She's getting older, and she still thinks she can keep a man." I tightened my grip on my phone, the anger in my chest nearly spilling over. She was spending my money, taking my husband, and still brazenly humiliating me as if she had done nothing wrong. I steadied my hands and typed my reply, "You're amazing. Honestly, only someone like you would be the perfect match for Mr. Carson." Yvonne was so caught up in the flattery that she didn't notice how cold I sounded. Over the next few days, I followed my plan and showed up at the company every so often to make another scene, each time acting emotional but never finding anything before leaving. Meanwhile, Finnick went from uneasy to completely confident. "What affair? Nothing is going on! Winona, what's wrong with you? Why do you keep treating me like I'm some criminal? I'm staying at the office for now. You should take some time to think about what you've done wrong!" After a few rounds, I backed off and even apologized for how I had acted. This time, both of them had completely lowered their guard. They figured I was just a clueless, emotional mess and didn't suspect a thing. After I lay low for a week, Yvonne sent another message. "That old hag couldn't find anything. After throwing a couple of tantrums, she's finally calmed down. My husband and I are coming by today to make the payment. Let's see if your custom pieces are as beautiful as they say." They had finally taken the bait. I arrived at the studio early and waited for the show to begin. Half an hour later, the door to the studio was pushed open. Finnick walked in holding their son, his other hand linked with Yvonne's. They looked affectionate, still smiling from whatever they had been talking about. But the moment they saw me, their smiles instantly stiffened. The room went quiet. Just then, Benjamin, still in Finnick's arms, pointed at me and asked, "Daddy, who is she?"