Chapter 2

The next morning was Saturday, and David got up early. He changed into workout clothes and grabbed his car keys.

"Honey, it's the weekend so there's lots of rides," he said. "I'm gonna drive for a few hours and make some grocery money."

The lie made me sick, but I smiled and straightened his collar. "Be safe." I told him. "Don't work too hard."

The second he walked out, I grabbed my backup phone and opened the car tracking app.

The car wasn't heading downtown, where the rides would be. I watched the red dot move across the map toward the suburbs.

His destination was a luxury spa resort outside the city.

I stared at that dot, and my fingers went white around the phone.

I opened PeachyKitten's profile. Sure enough, she had posted ten minutes ago.

[My personal driver is picking me up! Spa day to wash away all the bad vibes.]

The photo showed her in the passenger seat, taking a selfie with a Starbucks cup in her hand.

My eyes went to her legs.

That was my car. My passenger seat. I never even ate in that car, but she had her feet up on the dashboard with her shoes still on.

Someone commented: [Aren't you scared the wife will catch you?]

She replied: [Scared of what? That stupid woman is at home doing laundry and mopping floors right now. Her husband says she was born to be a maid and can't survive without the house.]

Born to be a maid?

The words hit me hard, and everything went dark for a second.

I laughed bitterly. Fine. If I were the maid, then I'd go "service" them both.

Storm the hotel and catch them in the act? That was too easy.

I didn't control our finances, so if I made a scene now, I wouldn't walk away with much.

I didn't just want a divorce. I wanted to ruin them completely and leave them with nothing.

I dialed my best friend, Emily Lane.

"Emily, I need you to dig up everything on someone. Username is PeachyKitten. Get me her full details. And while you're at it, grab me a few of those tiny spy cameras, the ones with the longest battery life."

I hung up and started cleaning house.

I grabbed every pair of David's boxers and dumped them straight into the trash. Then I headed down to the corner store and bought a pack of the cheapest underwear they had, the kind that came three for five bucks in a plastic bag.

I washed, dried, and neatly folded them back into his drawer.

He wanted to mess around with cheap hookups, so he could wear cheap crap.

David came home around five that afternoon.

He looked exhausted, holding a string of fish in one hand. "Babe, rough day today. Didn't close many deals, but I passed by the river and saw some guys fishing, so I grabbed a few. Thought I'd pan-fry them for dinner tonight."

He handed me the fish, and I caught a faint whiff of sulfur on his clothes.

I took the fish from him and noticed something else underneath the sulfur smell.

It was perfume, the same brand that had shown up in that blogger's photos.

I smiled, "You worked hard today, honey. Go take a shower. You smell like sweat."

David looked relieved and hurried into the bathroom.

I grabbed the dead fish he'd brought home and tossed them in the trash.

I opened my phone and saw the blogger had posted again.

[The hot springs were so relaxing. Someone has amazing stamina. He kept me busy in the water for two hours. He said the starfish at home was a total bore, and nothing beat a woman who actually knew how to move.]

The post included two pictures. One showed hot spring tickets, and the other showed a man's hand resting on her thigh.

The wedding ring on that hand made my eyes sting.

I'd saved for six months to buy that ring, skipping meals and cutting corners everywhere I could.

David had promised he would wear it forever, but apparently "forever" meant wearing it while he touched other women.

I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a pair of scissors.

I stood outside the bathroom door and listened to the water running inside.

I wanted to burst in and stab him with scissors, but I held myself back.

For my son, Ethan, I couldn't go to jail.

I needed to make him pay differently.