Side Chick Tax: Everything

On the first day of her marriage, Lyra Leighton told her CEO husband, Wesley Cheswick,

"I don't care if you fall for someone else later. But if she ever shows up in front of me, you'll never see me again."

So when he did fall for a schoolteacher, he kept her tucked away.

Gave her everything she wanted.

Everything except permission to cross Lyra.

But the side chick got bold on his affection and ignored the line.

She showed up with a baby bump and shoved it in Lyra's face.

"Wesley said it himself. He never loved you. He married you for your family's status. Know your place. Get an abortion and divorce him. Now. Otherwise, when Wesley dumps you, you won't get a dime."

Lyra smiled and called her father.

"Pull the investment from Cheswick Tech. I'm getting a divorce."

Ravenport, Carmoria

Lyra Leighton sat in the VIP room of the nail salon while the technician shifted awkwardly. "Ma'am, the store credit on your account isn't enough."

Lyra froze. Last month, her husband, Wesley Cheswick, had handed the loyalty card to her and said it had three thousand dollars on it.

This was her first time using it.

The technician checked the screen again. "Ms. Leighton, there was a twenty-eight-hundred-dollar charge last Thursday afternoon."

"Last Thursday? Twenty-eight hundred?" Lyra's fingers stilled. "I was at the office that day."

The technician hesitated. "M-Mr. Cheswick brought a woman in. Before leaving, she said to count twenty-six hundred as a tip for one of our staff."

Lyra's heart slammed, a sharp buzz filling her ears.

Last Thursday, Wesley had told her he was meeting a client. He hadn't come home until eight and complained nonstop about how exhausting the meeting was.

She remembered cutting her own meeting short just to rush home and make him honey lemon tea.

"Pull the security footage." Her voice stayed calm, even as her chest dropped.

On the screen, Wesley walked in with a girl in a light blue dress tucked close to his side.

The girl looked up and said something. Wesley smiled and ruffled her hair.

Lyra stared. That easy intimacy made them look like a couple.

If Wesley weren't her husband.

Then, Wesley knelt under the technician's direction and started painting the girl's toenails.

When he finished, he lifted her foot and pressed a kiss to it.

Lyra's blood went cold. Wesley had actually lowered himself to paint another woman's nails.

And that night, he'd come home and kissed her with the same mouth.

Her stomach lurched. She gagged.

The footage kept going. Wesley stayed glued to the girl's side. On their way out, he reached for her white handbag as if it were second nature.

Lyra stared at the screen. That bag—

It was identical to the one in her closet.

Wesley had brought it back from his "business trip" last week as a gift.

So it wasn't just for her.

"Send the video to my email." Lyra stood, legs shaky, grabbed her