On Friday, Daniel called me ten times. I didn’t answer.

At eight o’clock that night, I received a message from his number: “We need to talk now. There’s something you don’t know.”

I took a deep breath, looked at the clock, and understood that the game had changed. What I had discovered that afternoon would make his smile disappear forever…

The following Monday, we met at Maria’s office. Daniel arrived late, his tie loose and his eyes sunken. He tried to regain control with rehearsed phrases: “It was a misunderstanding,” “Sophie is just a phase,” “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Maria wouldn’t let him get away with it. She placed a preliminary audit report on the table: irregular transfers, personal expenses charged to the company, and a contract signed with Sophie using joint funds.

Daniel swallowed hard. “That can be explained,” he said. Maria replied calmly, “It will be explained to a judge if necessary.” I remained silent. My silence was my strength.

The strategy was clear: immediate division of assets, freezing of joint accounts, and a restraining order to protect my share. Daniel tried to negotiate privately, promising “compensation” and a quick divorce. I refused. Not because I wanted to prolong the process, but because the truth had to be set down.

Sophie, for her part, sent me an ambiguous message: “I didn’t want to cause any trouble.” I responded politely and firmly: there was nothing to discuss. The problem wasn’t her; it was Daniel’s decision and the consequences of his actions.

The following days were tense. Daniel lost a major contract when his company’s internal audit detected inconsistencies. I wasn’t the one who called anyone; the documents spoke for themselves. The reputation he had so carefully cultivated began to crumble. His smile was no longer present at meetings.