He strolled over and leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. "Fun fact—we slept together the night you left."
His grin widened. "You're the textbook definition of a cuckold."
From behind us, Walter's voice cut through like a whip. "Adam, don't waste your breath on him. He's a nobody—a common worker with nothing to his name. Stop giving him the time of day."
Adam glanced back with a smirk. "Uncle Walter, the man's still your son-in-law. Who knows—maybe he'll make something of himself one day."
Walter scoffed. "Him?"
"That deadbeat couldn't amount to anything if you gave him a hundred years."
He turned to Cynthia. "Sweetheart, where's that divorce agreement I told you to have ready? Go get it. Let this waste of space sign."
Cynthia nodded and gave me a brief glance before disappearing into the house.
There was nothing in that look. No warmth, no anger, no guilt. Just the gaze of a stranger.
Three years of marriage. Two of those years, I'd treated her like she was the center of my world.
One year away on business, and this was what I came back to.
She'd moved on before my suitcase was even unpacked.
Almost laughable, really.
But it all came down to one thing—they all thought I was broke.