Chapter 2 - The Company He Built Behind My Back
The bank statement stayed open on my laptop for almost ten minutes.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t blink.
I just stared at the names.
Derek Reed.
Sienna Brooks.
North Form Studios LLC.
A company created eleven days earlier.
A company funded with money from our emergency account.
A company I had never heard my husband mention.
And beneath the filing documents, another name.
Ethan Brooks.
I read it again.
Then again.
Because my exhausted brain kept trying to convince me there was another explanation.
Maybe Ethan was an employee.
Maybe Sienna had a brother who handled paperwork.
Maybe this was just another fitness project connected to Derek’s job.
Maybe I was jumping to conclusions.
But then I remembered the message.
Six more days, and we won’t have to hide anymore.
I closed my eyes.
No.
That wasn’t a business message.
That was a secret.
And secrets were usually hidden for a reason.
Maisie started making small noises in my arms.
I immediately looked down.
Her eyes were barely open.
Her tiny face was peaceful.
She had no idea that while she slept, her mother was discovering cracks in the life she was born into.
I kissed her forehead.
“I’m going to figure this out,” I whispered.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Not because I wanted to destroy Derek.
Because I needed to know what kind of world I was raising my daughter in.
I spent the next hour researching North Form Studios.
The company website was simple.
Too simple.
A logo.
A landing page.
A few sentences about “transformational wellness experiences.”
No photos.
No employees.
No contact information except an email address.
I clicked through every page.
Nothing.
It felt less like a real business and more like something created quickly to look like one.
Then I found a cached page from before the website was updated.
A promotional image.
My fingers froze.
It showed Derek.
Standing beside Sienna.
Both of them smiling.
Behind them was a gym space I had never seen.
A sign on the wall read:
NORTH FORM.
I stared at the picture.
Derek had told me he was networking.
He had told me his late nights were because of work.
He had told me I was imagining the distance between us.
But he wasn’t just meeting her.
He was building something with her.
My phone buzzed.
I expected Derek.
It was a message from him.
Hope you’re taking care of yourself today.
I looked at those words for a long time.
Taking care of yourself.
The same phrase he had used when showing me another woman’s body.
The same phrase he used when making me feel like I had failed.
I typed a response.
I deleted it.
Typed another.
Deleted that too.
Finally, I wrote:
“Where are you?”
The three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
His answer came.
“At the retreat. Why?”
I looked at the screen.
Because I found your secret company.
Because I saw the message from Sienna.
Because I know you lied.
But I didn’t send any of that.
Instead, I wrote:
“I need to ask you something.”
A minute passed.
Then:
“About what?”
I stared at the message.
Then I turned off my phone.
I wasn’t ready to confront him yet.
Not until I knew everything.
That afternoon, I called the state business office.
I told them I was trying to understand a company registration.
The woman on the phone confirmed the information.
“Yes, North Form Studios LLC was filed eleven days ago.”
“Can you tell me who submitted the paperwork?”
There was a pause.
“According to the record, the filing was submitted electronically by Derek Reed.”
My stomach dropped.
“Anyone else?”
“The listed managers are Derek Reed and Sienna Brooks.”
“And Ethan Brooks?”
Another pause.
“He is listed as the registered agent.”
I wrote it down.
“Is there anything else attached?”
The woman hesitated.
“Actually, there is a supplemental document.”
“What kind of document?”
“A commercial lease agreement.”
“For what location?”
She read the address.
I grabbed a piece of paper.
Then I stopped.
Because I recognized the street.
It was five minutes from Derek’s gym.
The same gym where he claimed he was networking.
The same gym he had never invited me to visit.
I thanked her and hung up.
For the first time since seeing the message, I felt something stronger than sadness.
Anger.
Not loud anger.
Not the kind that makes you break things.
The kind that makes you sit still.
The kind that makes you think clearly.
Derek thought I was too tired to notice.
He thought because I was recovering, because I was feeding a baby every few hours, because my entire world had changed, I had become unaware.
He was wrong.
Motherhood had not made me weaker.
It had made me pay attention.
That evening, I waited until Maisie was asleep.
Then I searched Derek’s laptop.
I hated doing it.
I really did.
I had always believed trust mattered.
I had never been the person who checked phones or searched messages.
But trust was a two-way street.
And Derek had already walked away from his side.
His laptop required a password.
I almost gave up.
Then I remembered something.
Derek hated changing passwords.
He used the same one for everything.
Our anniversary date.
The day we met.
I typed it.
The screen unlocked.
I felt sick.
Not because I had gotten in.
Because I knew him well enough to predict him.
I opened his email.
At first, nothing looked unusual.
Bills.
Work emails.
Advertisements.
Then I searched:
“Sienna.”
Thirty-seven results appeared.
My hands went cold.
I opened the first email.
It was from three months earlier.
Before Maisie was born.
Before my C-section.
Before I ever knew Sienna existed.
The subject line said:
North Form Partnership Proposal.
I clicked.
The email was short.
Sienna had written:
Derek,
I still think this is the right time. Once the baby arrives, things will be easier to explain. Mallory will be focused on recovery. The timing gives us space to launch without questions.
My heart stopped.
I read the sentence again.
Mallory will be focused on recovery.
They had planned around me.
Around my pain.
Around the moment when I would be least prepared to fight.
I kept scrolling.
There were more emails.
Photos.
Financial documents.
Meeting schedules.
Then I found a folder titled:
FINAL TRANSITION.
My hand hovered over it.
I knew I shouldn’t open it.
But I did.
Inside was a document.
A draft agreement.
A partnership agreement.
Between Derek Reed and Sienna Brooks.
And at the bottom was a section titled:
Future Personal Arrangements.
I clicked.
The first sentence made my entire body go numb.
Derek had written:
“After Mallory accepts that our marriage is no longer sustainable…”
I stopped reading.
My vision blurred.
Not because I was crying.
Because I was trying to understand how someone who had held my hand during childbirth could write about ending our marriage while I was still healing.
A noise came from upstairs.
Maisie.
I quickly closed the laptop.
I ran to her room.
She was awake.
Just hungry.
Just needing me.
I picked her up and held her against my chest.
And as I fed my daughter in the darkness, I made a decision.
I wasn’t going to confront Derek with emotions.
I wasn’t going to beg him for answers.
I was going to find the truth.
Every piece of it.
The next morning, I packed a small bag.
Not because I was leaving.
Not yet.
Because I needed options.
I placed copies of the documents in a folder.
I saved screenshots.
I emailed everything to myself.
Then I noticed something strange.
A calendar event on Derek’s laptop.
Tomorrow.
North Form Studios Launch Meeting.
Location:
Private Residence.
I frowned.
A launch meeting at a house?
I clicked the details.
The address appeared.
My breath caught.
It wasn’t the gym.
It wasn’t an office.
It was a place I knew.
Because I had been there before.
The address belonged to Sienna Brooks.
I closed the laptop.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a woman spoke.
Softly.
“Are you Mallory Reed?”
My grip tightened.
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then she said:
“I think you need to know what your husband and Sienna are really planning.”
I stood completely still.
“Who is this?”
The woman didn’t answer.
Instead, she whispered:
“Look behind you.”
I slowly turned toward the kitchen window.
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A black SUV was parked outside.
And someone was standing beside it, holding a folder with my name written across the front...
