The Smallest Part of the Betrayal
Expensive restaurants.
Flights to a resort.
A high-end jewelry store, twice.
Every charge sat on a date I recognized — the “business meetings,” the “work trips,” the weekends Damian had been away and I had believed him.
He had not only been cheating on me with the woman I loved most in the world.
He had been paying for it out of the savings we had built together, dollar by dollar, for four years.