The Mistress's Watch, My Vengeance

My husband, Cameron, stole my father's last gift to me-a one-of-a-kind watch.

I found it on the wrist of his mistress, Kenda, during a video call where she thanked him for the gift and their "late nights."

When I confronted him, he tried to gaslight me, using the years of painful, humiliating fertility treatments I endured as a weapon.

"You've been under a lot of stress lately," he said, a cruel glint in his eye.

He had convinced me I was barren, all while he was stealing from my family's foundation to fund her life. He even told her the watch was too ostentatious for me.

The affair was a sting, but the calculated cruelty of his deception was a mortal wound. He made me believe I was broken.

My grief turned to ice. I walked out of my study, leaving him stammering, and picked up my secure phone.

I made a single call to the only man I trusted.

"Gunner," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "I need you."

Chapter 1

Julia Warren POV:

The familiar thud of the antique mahogany door closing behind me usually signaled the end of my day, the moment I could finally shed the "Iron Queen" persona. But today, the silence felt heavy, suffocating. I walked past the open study door. That was my first mistake.

Cameron was there, in my study, the one room in this house that was unequivocally mine. He was on a video call, his face animated, his usual charm turned up to eleven.

I stopped short, the scent of his expensive cologne, mixed with something vaguely floral and unfamiliar, hitting me. I watched him for a beat, my hand still on the strap of my designer bag.

"Darling?" he purred into the screen, his smile too wide, too bright. "Yes, of course, I'll make sure it's expedited. Julia understands the… urgency of these humanitarian efforts."

He glanced at me then, a flicker of something, guilt or calculation, in his eyes before his smile re-cemented. He gestured for me to join him, to be part of his performance.

I walked in, my heels clicking softly on the polished wood floor. I didn' t sit. I just stood beside him, a silent sentinel. I felt a prickle of annoyance. This was my private space.

"Kenda," he said, turning the laptop slightly so I was in view. "This is my wife, Julia. Julia, this is Kenda Perez, the incredible woman leading our new initiative."

I offered a polite, practiced smile. Kenda smiled back, a dazzling, almost aggressive smile. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail.

Then I saw it.

On her wrist, glinting under the soft light of the video call, was a watch. Not just any watch. It was a prototype smartwatch, rose gold with a sapphire face, designed by my father. A one-of-a-kind piece. A gift he' d given me, months before he died. It had gone missing from my jewelry box, and I'd grieved its loss