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At 3 a.m., my phone suddenly buzzed. When I picked up my phone, I found a hotel selfie sent by Emily Scott, secretary to my husband Richard Monroe. The king-size bed lay bathed in warm lamplight, and there was his unmistakable profile. I smiled. With a tap, I sent the photo straight to the executive group chat at Richard's company. I added a message: [Congrats, you two. Wishing you a lifetime together and a baby on the way.] After sending it, I turned off my phone. Two hours later, I was already on a flight to Barriston. All I left behind was a flood of confused messages and an office scandal ready to explode.