Julian tried to regain control, grabbing for the mic. “He doesn’t understand—”
“I understand enough,” Noah said quietly. “You hurt her. And then you laughed about it.”
That hit harder than anything else.
Victoria flipped through the photos, shaking. “You told me your marriage was already over!”
“It basically was!” Julian snapped, his voice shrill.
Wrong answer.
Her father—a senior partner at a rival firm—stepped forward, furious. “You lied to everyone in this room.”
Whispers broke out. Phones came out. The illusion shattered into pieces.
Then Noah added, “There’s a flash drive too.”
Lila’s father picked it up. “What’s on it?”
“Messages,” Noah said. “Emails. Drafts.”
They were digital logs of the multiple narratives Julian had carefully drafted for different groups of friends, colleagues, and family—constructing elaborate lies about me being unstable, unfaithful, and manipulative, all while coming home to eat dinner at my table every night.
Victoria read the transcripts in silence.
Then she laughed—a hollow, disbelieving sound dripping with disgust.
“You were rehearsing lies,” she said. “You sat in your office and rehearsed how to destroy your wife’s character.”
Julian tried to speak. “Victoria, baby—”
