Chapter 2 - The Jasmine Scent
The next three days were a blur of black dresses, hushed condolences, and suffocating floral arrangements. David played the role of the tragically bereaved father to absolute perfection. He wept in the arms of his mother, he accepted the hearty, sympathetic back-slaps of his golf buddies, and he stood by Leo’s tiny white casket looking like a man destroyed.
But I was watching him.
During the wake at our home, I slipped upstairs to his home office. While David was downstairs receiving the sympathy of our community, I opened his laptop. I had guessed his password years ago—it was Leo’s birthday.
It didn't take long to find it. Hidden beneath a folder labeled Q3 Financials were the receipts. The charges were for a luxury seaside resort in Malibu. Room service for two. Couples massages. And thousands of dollars in jewelry.
I scrolled further and found the texts linked to his cloud account.
Chloe: I hate sharing you with her. When are you leaving her? David: Soon, baby. I just need to figure out the finances. I love you.
May you like
The timestamp on the last message was 10:15 p.m. on the night Leo died. Exactly thirty-three minutes before my son's heart stopped, David was texting his mistress from a luxury hotel bed while my seventeen calls went to voicemail.
I printed everything. Every receipt, every message, every damning timestamp. I didn't confront him. Not yet. A sudden confrontation would only result in an argument. I didn't want an argument. I wanted annihilation.
