Gala Betrayal, My 51% Share Revenge

To give my wife a sense of security, once the company was on track, I stepped back and became a stay-at-home husband. For ten years since the company's founding, she had never once let me attend the annual gala.

When the tenth-anniversary gala was scheduled at a five-star hotel, I suggested I should go. She, busy lacing her shoes, didn't even look up.

"You're my husband. If you come, the employees won't feel relaxed."

Before leaving, she hurriedly planted a kiss on my cheek.

"Be good. After this busy period, we'll take Sunny to Hawaii."

The door clicked shut.

I looked at the scattered Lego bricks and picture books on the floor, my chest aching. My three-year-old son suddenly ran up, holding a black phone.

"Daddy! Mommy forgot her phone!"

I froze for a moment. This wasn't the phone she usually carried.

"Honey, your gala suit is chosen, twenty-eight thousand. Waiting for your card, okay~."

1.

The sender's name was saved as: "Sweetheart, Henry."

My breath hitched. Blood rushed to my ears, buzzing. My fingers instinctively slid across the screen. I don't know if Eleanor was too confident, or simply trusted me too much. The phone had no password.

I tapped on "Sweetheart, Henry"'s chat window. The earliest message was from three years ago, August:

"Ms. Castro, the proposal has been revised. I've sent it to your email."

That was when I was with her during the hardest times of her startup. She always said she had many engagements, came home late. Eleanor claimed it was a critical period for the company, so she had to sleep at the office.

Last Valentine's Day, Eleanor transferred $520 to me:

"Hard work, hubby."

At the exact same moment

"Other people's Valentines get flowers, I just want a transfer from Ms. Castro [playful emoji]"

"Transfer: 0-00,000.00"

"Love you! [heart emoji]"

"Same place tonight?"

That day, she came home at three in the morning, smelling of alcohol. She said, "For this family, no matter how tired I am, I have to keep going."

For my birthday, she gave me a watch worth two thousand dollars, saying:

"Hard work, hubby. I'll buy you a better one every year from now on."

At the exact same moment, she transferred $8888.88 to "Sweetheart, Henry."

He said, "Thanks, wifey! Much more generous than that old man of yours [smirking emoji]"

She replied, "How can he compare to you?"

"Old man."

Those two words stung my eyes. Sunny hummed a tune, clutching his toy car, sunlight illuminating the soft golden fuzz on his hair. My son, three years old. And my wife's lover had been by her side for three years.

I continued to scroll up. The last message from yesterday

"Wifey, can we finally come clean that day? [shy emoji]"

My world completely crumbled at that moment. Come clean? What was she going to come clean about? Divorce?

The lock turned. Eleanor pushed the door open, her gaze sweeping the living room. "I left my black phone at home. Did you see it?"

"Sunny found it." I walked over, pulling out the phone. "How could you forget something so important?"

She snatched it, quickly pressed the screen dark, and tucked it into her suit's inner pocket. The entire process took less than three seconds.

"I'm swamped." She cleared her throat. "Gala preparations, so much to do."

"Well, you'd better go."

She paused, then ruffled my cheek. "I have a dinner engagement tonight. Don't wait for me."

The door closed. I leaned against the wall, slowly sliding to the floor. The spires of the Lego castle blurred and distorted in my vision. I knew that from today, some paths I would have to walk alone. And the first step was learning not to tremble.

2.

A week later, I sat beside her with the household ledger.

"Sunny's extracurricular fees have gone up."

I opened the ledger. "The joint account balance isn't much. Is the company's cash flow alright?"

"The company's fine." She glanced cursorily. "The gala budget was approved long ago. If money's tight, just use a credit card. I'll deposit more next month."

"The gala... it's at the Grand Imperial Hotel?"

"Mm, the Starry Sky Ballroom." Her eyes flickered. "How did you know?"

"I saw the advertisement passing by last time." I lowered my eyes. "I heard it's quite expensive."

"Ten years for the company, it needs to have the appropriate grandeur."

She hugged me. "After this busy period, I'll take you and Sunny to Hawaii."

Another promise.

"Oh," I looked up, "can I see the gala schedule? I don't even know what our company's gala is like."

A minute later, the electronic version of the schedule and seating plan arrived.

"Just look, don't forward it."

"Got it."

She got up to shower. I opened my phone.

Main Table 01: CEO Eleanor Castro

Main Table 02: Head of Administration Henry Taylor

Head of Administration. So, he was in the company, right under her nose. I took a screenshot, uploaded it to the cloud, and backed it up to an encrypted hard drive.

Passing the study, the door was ajar. Her old laptop was on the desk, its indicator light on. I pushed the door open and went in. The computer had no password. The folders were a mess. I clicked on "Work Backup - 2021". As I exited, my peripheral vision caught a strangely named folder: "L". I double-clicked it. It required a password. I tried her birthday, my birthday, the company's founding datenone worked.

I typed in "Henry"'s name. The folder opened. Inside were photos. Dozens, hundreds. Gatherings, business trips, celebrations, hotels. Spanning three years, the male lead had the same face. Young, handsome, with a flamboyant smile. Eleanor's hand rested on his shoulder, embracing his waist. My fingernails dug into my palm, leaving crescent marks. No pain.

I inserted a USB drive and copied the files. The progress bar moved slowly: 1%5%10% The bathroom door opened. Footsteps approached the study. I pulled out the USB drive, closed the laptop, and turned, smiling.

"Are you done showering? Your pajamas are on the bed."

She stood at the doorway, hair dripping wet, glancing at the computer. "Why are you in the study?"

"Looking for Sunny's vaccination record. The kindergarten needs it tomorrow."

I shook the small blue booklet. "Your old computer is still on. It's wasting electricity."

"Forgot to turn it off." She walked over and pressed the power button. "Don't touch my computer again. It has commercial secrets."

"Got it, Mrs. Castro." I smiled, patting her shoulder, and walked out of the study. The USB drive was tucked into the bottom-most secret compartment of the computer desk. Some other items were already stored there: transfer screenshots, recorded chat logs, unfamiliar phone numbers. Not enough yet.

A few days later, I met with Laura Vance, a lawyer. A university roommate, now a renowned family law attorney. After I briefly outlined the situation, she was silent for a long time.

"Buddy, are you sure you want to file a lawsuit?"

"Yes." I looked at the traffic outside the window. "I want her to pay."

"Alright then." Laura took out her notebook. "To strike a snake, you must strike its vital point."

"What's her vital point?"

"The company." Laura's pen paused. "She's the founder, but the company's shares are marital property."

"If she's found to be at significant fault, you'll have a decisive advantage in asset division, and it could even affect control of the company."

She looked at me. "But this path is long and dirty. You need to be prepared."

"I am prepared."

"From the day I discovered 'Sweetheart, Henry', Leo Lane died."

Laura patted my shoulder. "I'll help you."

Leaving the tea room, I went to a digital store on the west side of the city. The owner, Caleb Miller, was a university junior who once owed me a favor.

"Bro, here's what you asked for." He handed me a black velvet box. Inside, a rose gold tie clip, studded with tiny diamonds.

"4K high-definition, eight-hour battery life, wireless transmission to your phone."

Caleb lowered his voice. "And this"

A fountain pen.

"Side-press recording, extremely discreet. On the day of the gala, I'll be nearby to help with remote signal reception."

"Thanks." I put the items away. "I'll transfer the money."

"Bro," Caleb's eyes were complex, "be careful."

I smiled. "Don't worry. I'm not the one who needs to be careful."

That night, Eleanor came home at two in the morning, reeking of alcohol. I helped her to bed, wiped her face, and took off her shoes. She groggily grabbed my hand. "Hubby you're still the best"

"Sleep." I gently pulled my hand away, pulled the covers over her. As I turned, I heard her murmur, "Henry don't be silly"

I turned off the light, closed the door. In the darkness, I opened my phone. Henry Taylor's social media updated. The photo showed him wearing a Rolex watch, holding a wine glass, with the sparkling dome of the Grand Imperial Hotel's Starry Sky Ballroom as the backdrop. The caption: "Some moments deserve to be waited for. Three days left."

I "liked" it, using Eleanor's old phone. A minute later, Henry Taylor sent a private message:

"Ms. Castro? Why did you like it? Didn't you say not to make it public yet?"

I replied, mimicking her tone: "Couldn't help myself. Miss you."

He sent a shy emoji: "I miss you too. The suit fits perfectly, super handsome. That day will you announce it?"

"Of course. I'll give you the best."

3.

Three days before the gala, I went to the Grand Imperial Hotel under the pretense of checking out a wedding venue for a friend. The hall was being decorated. In the center of the stage, two gilded high-backed chairs, their backs intricately carved with intertwining lotus flowers. A double main seat.

"This decor is truly magnificent," my friend remarked. "Which company is spending so much?"

"Indeed," I said softly.

A man walked in from the side door. Black leather shoes, dark grey suit, neat short hair. He held a tablet, confirming details with the staff. It was Henry Taylor. He was even younger than in the photos, tall and well-built, with a confident aura. And I, having spent years tending to my family, had unknowingly gained weight, developing a beer belly. So this was what she meant by, "How can he compare to you?"

"Brighten the lights by another 30%. Mrs. Castro said she wants every shot clear that day." Henry Taylor's voice was clear and sharp.

The staff nodded. "Don't worry, Mr. Taylor."

My friend whispered, "Who's that? He's got a strong presence."

I didn't answer. Henry Taylor turned, his gaze sweeping over us. He paused for half a second, then a professional smile played on his lips. "And you two are?"

"We're looking at wedding venues," my friend said. "Is this your annual gala?"

"Yes, the company's tenth-anniversary celebration."

Henry Taylor walked over, his gaze lingering on my face for a moment. "And you are?"

"Mr. Lane."

"Mr. Lane." He nodded. "This venue is suitable for weddings, but we've booked the entire hall."

"If you need, I can recommend other halls."

"No need, thank you." I smiled. "This venue is beautiful. Your wife put a lot of thought into it."

Henry Taylor's smile stiffened slightly. It was subtle, but I caught it.

"Mrs. Castro put thought into it," he corrected, his tone gentle. "I'm just helping with the execution."

"Mrs. Castro? Is she single? Booking such a large venue, and with a double main seat, I thought it was prepared for her husband."

The air was silent for a few seconds. Henry Taylor looked at me, his eyes filled with scrutiny, vigilance, and perhaps a hint of subtle triumph.

"I'm not too clear on Mrs. Castro's matters."

He shifted his gaze, telling the staff, "I'm going to confirm the menu. You all continue." He turned and walked away, his leather shoes clicking crisply.

My friend nudged me. "Leo, why did you ask that? It was strange."

"Just a casual question." I withdrew my gaze. "Let's go, let's check out other halls."

We walked towards the elevator. Before the doors closed, I looked back. Henry Taylor stood in the center of the stage, looking down at his tablet. The starry dome light fell upon him, enveloping him in a hazy glow. He looked up, towards the elevator. Our gazes met one last time through the closing doors. He smiled. It was the smile of a victor, full of pity.

The elevator descended. "Do you know him?" my friend asked.

"No," I said, watching the numbers tick down. "But I will soon."

That night, Eleanor came home unusually early, looking agitated. "What's wrong?" I asked, serving her soup.

"Nothing." She rubbed her temples. "The company has a small issue, it'll be resolved soon."

"That's good." I pushed the soup bowl towards her. "By the way, I went to the Grand Imperial Hotel today."

Her movements paused. "What did you go there for?"

"Accompanying a friend to look at wedding venues." My tone was natural. "I saw the Starry Sky Ballroom being decorated. Is it for your annual gala?"

"...Mm."

"The double main seat design is very thoughtful." I looked at her. "Was that your idea?"

Eleanor put down her spoon. "It's the event planning company's proposal. Don't overthink it."

"I'm not overthinking." I smiled. "I just thought, if we were to renew our vows, we could also consider a design like that."

Her expression softened slightly. She took my hand; her palm was warm, but her fingertips were cold.

"By the way, yesterday I was tidying the study and saw some photos on your old computer."

I spoke casually. "Was it a team-building event? There was a boy who looked familiar. Was he the one who came to deliver documents to the house last time?"

Eleanor's grip tightened. "Which boy?"

"The one with slightly curly hair, quite tall, seemed very capable." I blinked. "His name was, I think, Taylor?"

Silence. A prolonged silence.

She let go of my hand, her tone returning to gentle. "That's Henry from admin. He's quite capable. Why are you suddenly asking about him?"

"I just thought he was quite handsome." I got up to clear the dishes, my back to her. "With such a capable employee by your side, I feel at ease."

She didn't say anything more. I carried the dishes into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. The rushing water covered my pounding heart.

That night, Eleanor slept soundly. I got up, took the tie clip camera from its hidden compartment, and clipped it to the inside of the black coat I would wear tomorrow.