The GPS Voice That Exposed My Husband's AffairChapter 1

On our wedding anniversary, I drove out to pick up the cake. I settled into the driver's seat and spoke to the GPS the way I always did: "Hey Siri, navigate to the bakery."

What came out of the speakers was not Siri.

"Of course, my darling Asher Sanchez! Your Winnie's personal navigation is at your service. Drive safe for me, okay? If you don't behave, I'll have to punish you~"

Every muscle in my body locked. The only sound left was my own heartbeat hammering against my ribs.

When had the GPS voice pack been changed? And why was it customized for Asher?

I dialed my husband, keeping my voice perfectly casual.

"Have you connected to the car's Bluetooth lately?"

A beat of silence on the other end. Then his tone slid into something easy and natural:

"Probably a client who paired their phone by accident when I gave them a ride. Why, what's up?"

I laughed, made small talk, and hung up. Then I opened the dashcam footage, scrolled until I found a blurry profile shot, and sent it to Mia Fox.

"Find out who she is. Ten minutes."

Then I floored it toward Sanchez Tower.

...

I was pulling into the parking garage when Mia's reply came through.

Several photos of the woman, plus screenshots of her social media posts.

[Your blind idiot husband hired this little secretary. One look at her and you can tell exactly what she is!]

[You've been way too generous with him. He takes advantage of the fact that you never go to the office, and now he's keeping a mistress right under your nose?]

[Say the word and I'm there. We'll take them both apart.]

I texted her back right away.

[Relax. I'll handle it.]

I stepped out of the car and walked into the building, scrolling through the photos as I went.

Asher's last secretary had been a man. I had no idea when he'd been replaced by a fresh-faced young thing.

She was striking in the photos, no question. Exactly his type.

The receptionist spotted me and started to ask if I had an appointment, but a senior employee who happened to be passing by stopped her.

"Mrs... Ms. Pruitt is the closest person to Mr. Sanchez. She doesn't need an appointment."

She turned to me with a small smile. I could read the awkwardness behind it, and the sympathy she was trying to hide.

I gave her a nod of thanks.

Then I stepped into the elevator and went straight to the top floor.