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For half a century, I watched my husband, Richard Grant, swap one woman for another, and I kept up the act like I didn't notice a thing. Everyone called me the ideal wife and mother, always patient and kind. Yet only I knew, all these fifty years of forbearance were merely biding time for one final, devastating revenge. Finally, Richard retired, and his mistress, Linda Young, had a sudden stroke that left her paralyzed in bed. Richard begged me, "No one's there for her now. Can you help me look after her? I'm really asking you for this." Smiling, I walked over to her bedside, leaned in close, and whispered one sentence in her ear. Her eyes flew open, she coughed up blood right then and there, and totally broke down.