Husband Found Out About His Wife's Infidelity, Shared The Proof With Their Relatives & Got Divorced.

My wife, Elizabeth, has been an amazing partner. She's tall and slender, with this striking blend of brown and blonde hair and a figure that turns heads. When we first crossed paths, the sparkle in her eyes reminded me of a kid seeing gifts under the tree on Christmas morning. My name's Tatti; I'm 6'2" in, and thanks to my years on a swim team, I've got the classic swimmer's build. Our friends would always tease us, saying our constant smiles gave away our feelings. For the first two years, our love life was electric; meeting up was almost

always about that connection. Things took a turn when Elizabeth made a mistake involving Glenn, a guy who stood about 6'10" and played basketball. Out of nowhere, my phone started buzzing with messages and photos from a party she'd attended. It seemed like she'd shared a kiss with him and then disappeared into his room. The next morning, I confronted her, and she came clean, admitting she'd gotten drunk and done something stupid. She insisted it meant nothing and that her heart still belonged to me. Most of our friends argued it was a one-time thing, urging me to forgive

her. After two solid weeks of anger, I decided to let it go but made it clear she wouldn't get another chance. Ironically, the friends who pushed for forgiveness often ended up in rocky relationships, while the ones who told me to walk away are now happily married. Eventually, I started a career as a programmer, and Elizabeth took a job as an administrator. We got married and had two kids, Frederick and Monica. Life was pretty good until Elizabeth got into real estate, which brought longer hours and less family time. Knowing her history, I decided to install monitoring

software on her phone and slipped a small recorder into her bag. Soon, I discovered she was seeing a man named Joe. Heartbroken, I clung to the fact that their chats seemed to lack any deep affection. Desperate to fix things, I tried harder: cooked her favorite meals, dressed up the kids, and showed her as much love as I could. She responded positively, giving me a sliver of hope. One Friday night, she told Joe she couldn't meet up with him. I was thrilled and, feeling optimistic, asked my brother and his wife to watch the kids. I took

Elizabeth out to a fancy restaurant for dinner and dancing. That night, we even tried to set a personal record for how many times we could make love, and although we didn't quite hit it, we sure enjoyed the attempt. The next day, we picked up the kids and spent the day at a water park. I thought things were finally back on track. Then, the following Wednesday, I caught a glimpse of a message from Elizabeth to Joe: "Can't wait to see you. I miss you." It was like a knife to the heart. At that moment, I realized

I couldn't trust her, and everything she told me felt like a lie. I decided I wouldn't listen to any more of her excuses. Elizabeth had betrayed not just me but also our kids. Using the camera feature on her phone through the monitoring software, I saw Joe's face—a guy I remembered from our office. He was just another colleague, and I realized I'd have to approach this without confrontation. Instead, I planned to take her out of our lives, make her face the consequences, and secure primary custody of our children. Around that time, Monica's school group had a

concert. I shifted the reminder on Elizabeth's phone calendar to the day after the event. Sure enough, she spent the concert night at Joe's place. Afterward, I left her a message pretending she just missed it. Monica was disappointed, but I gently explained that sometimes adults get caught up in work. Elizabeth's late arrivals became more frequent, and she'd come home smelling freshly showered while still in her work clothes. She tried to make it up to Monica, who eventually forgave her but made her promise not to miss the next concert. I couldn't tell if Elizabeth was genuinely remorseful

or just trying to avoid getting caught. I noticed she and her lover often met at a small place famous for its Scotch eggs. One day, I casually mentioned it to my father-in-law and made a reservation for that Wednesday, their usual day. After confirming she was at the office, I headed there with her parents. We arrived just a few minutes after Elizabeth and her lover, and I spotted them talking in a booth at the back. "Do you want to sit in a booth or at a table?" I asked loudly. Elizabeth's head shot up, and she quickly

moved away from him. He looked bewildered until he saw us, then tried to shrink down. When we approached, Elizabeth rushed over. "Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?" she stammered. "We heard the Scotch eggs here are amazing, so we had to try them," her dad said with a warm smile, happy to see her. Elizabeth introduced her lover as a colleague, pointing to the booth. Her mom and dad's expressions soured. "We wouldn't want to interrupt your lunch meeting," her mom said, staring at him with narrowed eyes. Elizabeth insisted, saying they were just grabbing a quick bite

before showing a property. The lunch was awkward after her lover reluctantly shook hands with everyone. Elizabeth tried to fill the silence with small talk; her mom frowned at her food, and her dad couldn't take his eyes off the guy, barely speaking. I made small talk, asking him questions like how long he'd been with the company or why a nice guy like him was still single. At one point, I suggested, "Elizabeth, maybe you could introduce your sister to him; if things go well, we might even be family." Elizabeth's smile was tight. Her lover finally said, “Thanks,

but I already have a girlfriend.” “Oh,” I asked with a grin, “Is she someone we know or a secret?” “She’s in a rough situation, trying to get out of a bad relationship.” “I don’t feel comfortable saying who,” he replied, trying to keep his composure, but his face fell as he noticed the looks from everyone around the table, especially Elizabeth. When our food arrived, my in-laws barely touched theirs, eating quickly. I only managed a few bites of my Scotch egg. Elizabeth noticed and asked, “Is the Scotch egg any good?” “I’ve lost my appetite,” I replied, staring

at her. Her mother motioned to the waiter, handed him a $100 bill to cover everyone’s meal, and then excused herself to the restroom. The waiter returned with the change, and Elizabeth’s father pocketed it, giving Joe, the colleague, a look that could cut glass before heading to the restroom himself. “Sorry to interrupt your business lunch,” I told Elizabeth and Joe. “I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about and plenty of people to deceive.” I got up to leave, and Elizabeth chased me out to the car. “It was nice to see you at lunch,” she said.

“We’ll discuss this at home. Your parents will be here soon.” By then, her parents were practically rushing toward the restaurant’s entrance, clearly avoiding Joe’s gaze. Elizabeth, following my line of sight, looked down and muttered, “It’s probably for the best.” Her parents caught up to us, gave Elizabeth a quick hug, and then got into my car without a word. We drove home in silence. When I dropped her parents off, her mom hugged me tightly and told me she loved me like the son she never had. Her dad hugged me too, asking me to bring the kids

over more often because he missed us. It hit me hard then, realizing Elizabeth would lie so easily to the people who’d always supported her. They had already distanced themselves from Elanora, her younger sister, because of her own infidelity. Whenever Elizabeth brought her up, they’d shut her down immediately. Elanora had even once tried to sneak into her in-laws’ church during a Sunday service. Her dad interrupted the pastor mid-sermon, apologizing to the congregation before walking out, ignoring Elanora entirely. That evening, Elizabeth came home with a story about how a dinner with Joe had helped secure a big

deal for both of them. I told her, “It’s inappropriate to be out to dinner alone with an unmarried man. I don’t want you near him anymore, and I don’t want you going out with him again.” “Honey, I’m sorry if it bothers you,” she replied. “I won’t go to lunch with him anymore. Don’t worry, he’s out of the picture. We just landed a great deal.” From that night on, I told her I’d be sleeping in the guest room until she gave me and her parents a proper apology. “Remember what happened when your sister got caught cheating?”

I said. She looked alarmed. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion,” she protested. A small part of me was relieved, though, that I had a valid reason to avoid intimacy with her. Meanwhile, I took more steps to stay ahead. I installed a hidden switch in her car and Joe’s and sabotaged the transmission sensors to keep any mechanic guessing. One day, while I was at Frederick’s football game, Elizabeth decided to see Joe. I remotely disabled her car. “Knock, knock.” Joe came to the car window and asked, “What happened? You came back so soon.” “My car won’t

start. The battery’s fine, headlights work, but it just won’t turn over,” she explained. “Need a ride home?” he offered. “No, you idiot! If my husband sees you dropping me off, it’ll be a huge issue. Call a tow truck. I need to pick up Monica for her band competition.” “Can’t your husband drive her?” “He’s with Frederick and his game,” she replied, irritated. “Just take me to a rental car place, and I’ll call a tow truck to meet us there.” Joe dropped her off, and she managed to rent a car. Unfortunately, she was late picking up Monica,

who ended up calling me. “I got a friend to bring Frederick home, then picked up Monica just in time for her event. When we returned, Frederick was already in his room, and Elizabeth was waiting in the living room, still in her work clothes but smelling freshly showered. “Monica, I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick you up,” she said. “My car broke down, and by the time I rented another, your dad had already come to get you.” “It’s fine, Mom. I made it just in time thanks to Dad,” Monica replied. “But you’ve missed two performances now. I

hope work’s worth it.” After Monica left the room, I confronted Elizabeth. “I called your work after lunch. They said you’d left. You had over two hours to pick up Monica. What happened?” She froze, then stammered, “I was running some errands and thought I had enough time. I didn’t expect the car to break down.” “What errands? You never mentioned any.” “Just things that needed handling,” she replied evasively. “Well, I hope those things are worth more than your daughter’s respect because you’re walking on thin ice,” I said, heading to the guest room. It was clear Elizabeth prioritized

Joe over our family, disregarding the impact on her kids. The mechanics couldn’t find any issues with her car, confirming my modifications had worked perfectly. Meanwhile, Monica had started pushing her buttons, saying things like, “Mom, you promised to take me and my friends to the mall this Saturday. Can you tell me now? If you flake, we don’t want to be stranded if your car decides to die again.” Frederick overheard and laughed. “Good one, Monica.” Elizabeth complained to me later, saying I needed to talk to the kids about respecting her. "I'll consider it when you're ready to

apologize," I said from the guest room. She called my response stubborn. On Saturday, I took Monica and her friends to the mall myself. Elizabeth claimed she had work, but her car was parked at a house listed for sale, no doubt meeting Joe. When we returned, Monica thanked me loudly in front of her mother, making it clear who she appreciated most. Elizabeth called a friend and completely ignored Monica's questions. Elizabeth looked like she wanted to complain, but I started laughing, took my drink, and headed into my office. She still had on her work clothes but smelled

freshly showered. I couldn't shake the feeling she'd had some fun in one of the houses she was selling; hopefully, she at least changed the sheets. With Frederick's birthday coming up, we rented six lanes at a bowling alley to celebrate with friends and family. Finding a spot without a Wednesday night league took some effort, but I made it happen. When I shared the plans with Elizabeth, she looked uneasy, so I told her I'd take the kids and their friends while she picked up the cake and candles. We'd have pizza, open presents, and bowl. The week before,

I sabotaged Joe's car three times to stop their meetings. They rescheduled for Tuesday, so I broke his car again once it was fixed. Then, on Wednesday, I saw Elizabeth's text: "Looking forward to seeing you later this afternoon." Her GPS showed her heading to Joe's apartment; she'd have enough time to enjoy herself, grab the cake, and still make it to the party. I rented a car with a large trunk for a little plan I'd cooked up. After confirming Elizabeth was at Joe's apartment, I placed a covered cage by the front door. Using a door ram, I

smashed the door open, activated a taser against the metal cage, and released an angry skunk inside. As I hurried away, I listened through Elizabeth's phone; the screams were priceless. Joe was yelling at her to call the police. I blocked her phone so he had to make the call himself, claiming a wild animal had invaded his apartment. When the police arrived, guns drawn, the skunk went on the attack, making them scream and gag before they managed to shut the door. It took hours for animal control to capture the skunk. Afterward, two reeking officers questioned Elizabeth and

Joe, and two more officers arrived but left quickly because of the stench. "Who's the owner here?" one officer asked. "I am," Joe replied. "And who are you?" the officer asked. "Elizabeth, just visiting," she replied, handing over her ID. The officer looked at her with skepticism. "How do you two know each other?" "We work together," Elizabeth answered. "What were you doing here?" the officer pressed. "Picking up some documents," she replied. After confirming their identities, the officer asked, "So why was there a skunk in the apartment?" "It was a birthday present," Joe started to explain, but Elizabeth

interrupted. "Did you buy an adult skunk for your boyfriend?" the officer asked, eyebrows raised. "HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND!" Elizabeth shot back. "Stop lying! Why'd you buy an adult skunk as a gift?" then the officer pressed. Elizabeth stumbled. "I didn't! I meant to get a younger one. He told me he loved skunks, so I thought it would be a nice surprise, but it turned out to be an adult, and well, it attacked him." "The skunk must have been expensive," the officer observed. "Not too much," she replied, attempting to brush it off. "So do you buy pricey

pets for all your coworkers, or just your boyfriend?" the officer asked again. Elizabeth said nothing. Finally, one officer, clearly fed up, remarked, "I know this story is nonsense, but I can't take the smell anymore. You and your friend are free to go; I'm not contaminating my car with that stench." They left, slamming the broken door on their way out. "What was that all about?" Joe asked, baffled. Elizabeth, quick-witted as always, replied, "We couldn't exactly tell them someone broke down your door and set a skunk loose in here." "Why not?" he asked. "Because then they'd ask

my husband if he had anything to do with it, and he'd either know for sure or they'd tell him I was here," she answered smoothly. "Speaking of honesty, Joe, how many other women are you seeing?" "No one," he answered, a bit taken aback. "When was the last time you slept with someone else besides me?" she pressed. "About a month ago," he mumbled. "So you've been with her this whole time?" Elizabeth asked. "There was another one six months ago," he admitted. "Were they married?" she asked. "Why would you assume that?" he replied. "Because I know what

kind of thrill you're after," Elizabeth said, annoyed. "Answer me!" "Yes, both were married," he muttered. "Did their husbands find out?" "I don't know," Elizabeth sighed. "Great, now I know lying to the police was the right choice. This is likely payback from one of those husbands. I'll find out if my husband was behind this," she said. Just then her phone rang. "Hey, Elizabeth, did you pick up the cake yet?" I asked casually. "Uh, I'm still at work, but I'm leaving now," she replied. "Don't let Frederick down," I said, and she assured me she was on her

way. Elizabeth showered, dressed, and left Joe's place. I remotely disabled her car halfway to the store. After several attempts, she got it to start, but it broke down three more times before she finally made it to the bakery. She arrived late to the bowling alley, and as she walked in with the cake, everyone covered their noses, coughing at the overpowering skunk smell. Frederick simply asked her to go home. After the party, on the way home, he turned to me and asked, "Dad, why does mom always...?" Miss our events? She tries to do what's best for

the family, but sometimes it's tough to be in two places at once. I replied, "But you're always there, and you make more money," Fred pointed out. "Well, my job is more flexible, so it's easier for me to be around my favorite skunks," I joked. "Not funny, Dad," Monica chimed in. "It'll be funny when you tell your friends at school tomorrow," I replied. We had to toss out the skunk-scented cake, which the kids thought was hilarious. I was more than happy to return to the guest room that night. A few days later, I caught Elizabeth sniffing

me up, holster in my car, looking like a mouse hunting for cheese. I followed her upstairs and even recorded her sniffing my shoes. I never asked her why her own seat didn't reek of skunk. Two Saturdays later, I told the family I was headed to the hardware store. Nobody wanted to join, so I went alone to Joe's apartment. His car was there, and I knocked on the door. He answered, looking puzzled. "Can I help you?" he asked. "I think we can help each other. I'm Elizabeth's husband. Mind if I come in?" I asked, pushing my

way past him into the kitchen, where the smell of fresh paint mixed with lingering skunk stench. They'd bought all new furniture. "Look, I know you've been with my wife for over six months," I stated. "Hey man, we're just friends," Joe stammered. "Would it help if I showed you pictures and videos of your meetings?" I challenged. "I don't know what you're talking about." "No games. I know you've been with my wife, and I have proof. I'm not here to talk about you, though; I'm focused on her. Rather than paying a detective to gather more dirt, I

figured I'd just pay you for it." He stared at me, eyes narrowing. "You want me to film myself with your wife? That'll cost $2,000." "Yes, $2,000 for a video showing her face and body during the act. I'll also need written consent from you, stating that you took the video and allow me to use it." "If you already have evidence, why do you need a video?" he asked skeptically. "I need leverage for the divorce," I replied. "That's really cold," he said. "Cold like how she betrays me and our kids," I shot back. After a long pause,

he muttered, "Yeah, just like that." Then he added, "Make it $3,000, and we have a deal." "Deal. Don't tell Elizabeth. I'll arrange and pay for a spa and hotel stay," I said. The following Monday, I called Joe to set up a time to get the video and pay him in cash. "All clear?" I asked. "Yes," he replied. "Make sure her face is visible in the footage. I'll send the consent form today and call you on Monday," I said, then left and went about my day. On Wednesday evening, I told Elizabeth I had a conference this

Saturday. "Any issues with that?" "No, actually, sounds like a relaxing weekend. Have fun," she replied. On Monday night, I called Joe and picked him up. Not wanting to be recorded, I took him to a quiet rest stop, checked him for any devices, and led him back into the car. "Do you have what I need?" I asked. "Yes," he replied, handing me a flash drive. I checked the video on my laptop. It was exactly what I'd asked for. He handed me an envelope, and I verified its contents, then took a photo and sent it to myself.

I handed him an envelope of cash, and he counted the $100 bills twice, grinning. "If you need another video, let me know. Easiest money I ever made," he said. On Tuesday, I sat down with my brother and his wife, showing them a short video, some photos, and a list of Elizabeth's states highlighting missed family events. I did the same for Elizabeth's parents and mine, asking them all to ignore her until I gave the green light. On Wednesday, while Elizabeth was out with Joe, I sat the kids down to explain, "Mom is infatuated with someone else,

and I'm not sure if she still loves me." They asked if we were getting a divorce. I told them, "We'll discuss it with her. Right now, she's at her boyfriend's house." Both of them gasped. "She's there now?" "Yes," I replied, showing them the GPS tracker on her car outside Joe's apartment. "Is that why Mom misses our events?" Monica asked. I showed them a dated list of her absences at family events, along with a time-lapse tracker of her locations during Monica's concert and Frederick's birthday. Seeing the timestamps of when she left the office and then Joe's

apartment, they both gasped. "That skunk," Monica muttered. I reassured them, "The most important thing is that I love you both. This is between your mother and me, and we'll do everything we can to stay a family." After half an hour of crying, hugging, and talking, Elizabeth walked in. Seeing our faces, she looked nervous. "What happened?" "Kids, go to your rooms. Mom and I need to talk," I said. They hugged me, shot her a hurt look, and went to their rooms. When the doors closed, I asked Elizabeth to sit down. "What's going on?" she asked, trying

to keep her composure. "Elizabeth, I know you're having an affair." "Oh God, no, that's not true. I'd never cheat on you. Why would you say that?" She tried to sound sincere, even tearing up. "If you won't be honest, this conversation is over," I said, keeping my tone firm. "This must be a mistake. Someone thought they saw something that wasn't true," she said, trying to convince me. "Fine, we're done here. Think about what you're..." "Doing to this family? We'll talk tomorrow. Until then, stay away from me and the kids!" I said, heading for the guest room.

Elizabeth followed me, insisting, "You're wrong! I would never do that!" I closed the door in her face. I heard her soft voice outside Monica's room pleading, "Monica, what did Dad tell you? It's all a mistake. Please open the door so we can talk." Mon texted me, "Can you make her go away?" I replied, "I'll try, but she's denying everything, so there's no point." "Maybe you're mistaken," Monica texted. "I have pictures of them together." I replied, "Oh," was all Monica sent back. Opening the door, I found Elizabeth there, her eyes full of desperation. "Leave the kids

alone until we sort this out. You're only making it harder on them," I said. "But I need to know what you told them," Elizabeth insisted. "I told them the truth: that you're seeing another man! This is between us now. Don't involve them," I said. Elizabeth went to her bedroom, and I heard her crying all night. The next day, I waited for her at the kitchen table. When she came in, I asked, "Have you thought about what you're doing to this family?" She nodded, looking remorseful. "Are you ready to be honest about the affair?" She nodded

again. "It's all a misunderstanding. I had an emotional connection. We had lunch a few times, but that's it. I only love you," she said. "If you lie again, this conversation is over. We'll talk Saturday at 9:00, and the kids will stay with my parents. Think hard about what this is doing to us," I said, heading to the guest room. On Saturday morning, I had breakfast with the kids at her parents' house. When I returned, Elizabeth was waiting at the kitchen table. "Are you ready to talk honestly?" I asked. She nodded. "Did you tell my parents?"

I asked. "Yes." "Have you told your parents, your brother, and his wife?" I asked again. "Yes," she whispered. "Why would you do this to me?" she asked, her voice breaking. "You lied to me, to the kids, to everyone. Now you're claiming it was just a few kisses, and you think our parents and kids turned against you because of me?" Elizabeth's face fell, but she said, "You've blown this out of proportion. If you're not willing to be truthful, then we're done here. The kids will stay with their grandparents, and I'll live in the guest room and

work from home. We'll talk on Tuesday after work. Think about what you're doing to this family," I said, leaving the house. That night, after dinner with my parents and the kids, I returned to find Elizabeth sitting in the living room. "We'll talk on Tuesday," I said, heading to bed. Elizabeth's friends texted me, urging me to forgive her, claiming it was a minor mistake. I made a video call and showed them evidence of the affair. They apologized, embarrassed, and I doubt she ever heard from them again. On Tuesday evening, Elizabeth came home visibly tired. She brought

pasta from our favorite Italian restaurant and set a plate in front of me. "All those days, you're wondering what lies to tell your friends and family to cover up the truth. It takes a toll, doesn't it?" I asked. "No one will talk to me. They all think I'm a monster," she replied. "Lies have consequences, Elizabeth. You showed everyone the monster within you," I said. "They told me you showed them photos and videos of me with Joe," she said. "Yes, I did. I didn't let extra copies get out because I don't want our family ridiculed," I

replied. "Can I see them?" she asked. "Yes, if it helps." I showed her the photos and videos. "I love you so much! Can't we put this behind us?" she pleaded. "If you love me that much, why did you need someone else?" I asked. "I never loved him. Marriage is supposed to be about shared responsibilities, trust, and joy. I was always responsible, trusted you, and found joy in our life together. But you dumped most of the financial and family responsibilities on me while you partied." She looked down, quiet. "You stole my love by giving yours away,"

I said. "How long have you known?" she whispered. "Seven months," I replied. "Why didn't you say anything?" she asked. "I hoped it was a one-time mistake. I waited for you to be honest, especially since you kept saying you love me," I replied. "I'm so sorry," she said softly. "How can I trust you now?" I asked. "Because I love you, and I'm telling the truth," she replied. "Is this the same truth you told me during our last three talks, when you denied everything?" I asked. She fell silent for a few minutes. I finally asked, "What can

you do to make things right?" I placed an envelope on the table in front of her. "This is a postnuptial agreement. Sign it, and I'll consider taking you back, but we'll need therapy for us and the kids to make it work." "I don't want to sign a postnuptial agreement," she replied. "Then we're done. It seems you're more interested in a financial advantage than in saving our marriage." "What do I get if I sign it?" she asked. "If one of us files for divorce, I get 70% of everything. If I'm the one who cheats, it's 50/50.

If you cheat, I get 85%, and in all cases, I get full custody. Have a lawyer look at it. Sign it, and I'll consider moving forward." "How much time do I have?" she asked. "Until Saturday morning," I replied, standing up. "Are you going to eat? I got your favorite food," she said. "After all you've done and all your lies, should I expect fresh arsenic in the sauce?" I asked, walking away. Elizabeth began to cry, but later she signed the agreement to try and rebuild some trust. The next day, I stopped by her office while she

was out and spoke with the office manager, an older woman whose husband owned the company. "How can I help you today?" she asked curtly. "I think there's a misunderstanding about me being the bad guy with my wife," I said. "This seems personal. Please leave, or I'll call security," she replied. "It's about my wife and a coworker she's been intimate with," I explained. "Do you have any evidence?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, yes. Here's a photo and some voice recordings of them admitting they were together instead of showing properties," I said, playing short clips on

my phone. Her face soured. "Can I assume my wife will be terminated immediately?" I asked. "Yes, along with her companion," she replied. "You can't fire him! I had permission to record my wife, not him. This can't be used in court, and I'd rather avoid any claims of slander. I doubt you want that either," I added. "Thanks for the information," she said, visibly relieved. "May I leave a photo?" I asked. "No, I don't want this going around the office," she replied. Elizabeth came home that evening in tears, saying she'd been fired without a reference. She wanted

to talk, but I just said, "Saturday," and went to my room. On Saturday morning, she was at the kitchen table. "You should have quit as soon as this started to avoid any contact with Joe. Clearly, your moral compass is broken," I said. "We should have discussed this," she said. "Sorry, but we no longer discuss decisions that harm our marriage or family. By the way, have you signed the postnuptial agreement?" I asked. "Yes," she said, handing me the signed document. I checked it, sent an electronic copy to my lawyer, and locked the physical copy in a

safe. Then, I laid out the new house rules: "If you behave, we'll start counseling. I'll let the family know we're attempting to fix things." Truthfully, I had no plans to start counseling. Elizabeth became the model wife, but I noticed she'd installed a hidden camera in my office. I watched her set it up on my laptop from my car. The following Saturday, I joined her in the kitchen, where she sat looking smug over her coffee. "Where are the kids?" I asked. "They're with my parents," she replied. "Why? It's been a while since we've been intimate. I

thought I could change your mind," she said. "It's actually been eight months," I replied. "Eight months? That can't be right!" she insisted. "It is. Maybe you lost track during your escapades," I said. "Well, we could change that," she said, giving me a flirtatious smile. "Elizabeth, I can't erase what you did or the images burned into my mind. It's not going to happen," I replied, signaling her to sit down. "Fine, be stubborn! I did everything you asked, and you still treat me like an outcast. I deserve more respect," she said. "Is this really how you want

to approach it?" I asked. "Yes! I even deleted all the evidence—the copies, the ones in the cloud—and destroyed the flash drive. I'm tired of feeling like an outsider. I'll be staying with my sister until you start showing some respect. I'll pick up the kids from school each day, and we'll have dinner at my place without you," she said, heading toward the door. Her sister, Elanora, stepped out of the dining room, and they left together. Over the next two months, Elizabeth worked on convincing her parents and our kids that I'd fabricated everything. She claimed the photos

were doctored and that I had no real evidence. She even dared me to show proof, but by then, she had deleted everything. The kids were confused, and her parents were eager to believe her. Even my own parents had doubts. Thankfully, my brother and his wife stood by me. Feeling isolated, I met with Joe to arrange for another video. This time, I went all out—a beachside hotel room in Florida, two first-class tickets, and $5,000 for the video. I insisted the recording happened on the balcony. Joe asked for more money to cover a pricey restaurant, and I

bought an additional first-class ticket for Elanora, who was eager to tag along. Two weeks later, I reviewed the new footage in my car, confirming everything was as I'd specified. I encrypted the video, uploaded it to the cloud, and secured a copy on an encrypted flash drive. As we drove back, I had questions for Joe. "Did you approach my wife first?" I asked. "Not really. It just happened," he replied. "And who brought up the idea of being together first?" I continued. "She did," he said. I then asked, "How many other married women have you been involved

with around here?" "Seven," he replied, listing each name. I switched off the recorder in my pocket. "Want to see something crazy?" I asked, accelerating to 70 mph. "Hey man, what are you doing?" he shouted. "Sorry, but this is the crazy part," I said, steering sharply toward a wooded area and braking hard. We hit a tree at just under 40 mph. Both of us were injured, but alive. I called the police, who confiscated my laptop and flash drive as evidence. After a hospital examination, I returned home, where I was bedridden for a week. Elizabeth heard about

the accident and about Joe's passing. Soon after, she called, fishing for details, but I feigned ignorance. The next day, the police came to question me about the connection between the deceased and my wife. I explained that I'd paid him to stay away from her, but he kept demanding more, which led to the accident. "So, are you suggesting I deliberately crashed the car to get rid of...?" "Him?" I asked. The officers left soon after, sure I had both the motive and opportunity. But who would risk their life by driving into a tree to eliminate someone? A

few days later, Elizabeth called, proposing that we discuss our marriage on neutral ground with her sister present. “I don't want this conversation recorded. Let's meet at a hotel,” she suggested. “The house is off-limits, but I'll choose the room.” I replied, skeptical of her intentions. She protested about safety, but I insisted on avoiding any recordings. We agreed to meet on Saturday. When I arrived at the hotel, I followed Elizabeth and Elanora to the front desk. The receptionist offered room 216, but I requested a higher room overlooking the front. Both women looked disappointed; they'd probably have to

pay extra to retrieve any recording equipment from room 216. In the elevator, Elanora flirted openly, pressing close to my side. I reminded her, “This discussion is between me and Elizabeth.” Normally, Elanora kept her distance from me at Elizabeth's insistence, but today she seemed different. The room was standard, with a desk, chair, chest of drawers, and a queen-sized bed. “What now?” Elizabeth asked. “Take off your clothes.” “Completely undressed?” “I don't trust you, and you don't trust me,” I said. Elizabeth glanced at Elanora, surprised. “That's my sister! I don't want her seeing me like that.” “Come on,

Elizabeth,” I said dryly. “She doesn't have anything half the town hasn't seen.” Elanora stuck her tongue out at me, revealing a piercing. “Fine,” Elizabeth agreed a little too easily. “Get completely undressed.” It worked. I knew their game; I came prepared. As Elizabeth and Elanora started undressing, I quickly stripped as well, folding my clothes on the desk and placing a pen behind them. The pen looked like the hotel's standard issue, but it was weighted and had a hidden camera inside. I'd collected free pens from every local hotel, hollowing one out to fit the camera. After putting

my clothes in the bathroom, I returned to the room, fully aware of Elizabeth and Elanora's watchful eyes. “Now that we're all here, let’s get started,” I said, ignoring Elanora's attempts to catch my eye. “Elizabeth, I want a serious conversation,” I said firmly. “In a few minutes, you'll know what this is really about,” Elizabeth said sweetly. “I love you,” I replied, keeping my tone even. “Like a favorite pair of shoes,” she replied, her sarcasm showing. “You know that's not true!” “I really love you,” Elizabeth insisted. “Sure, as long as the credit card works,” I shot back.

Elizabeth's voice rose. “Don't be so bitter! Our marriage is strong enough to survive this.” “Strong? You drained every ounce of strength from us, repeatedly stabbing me in the back! And now you want me to turn around and just forgive you again?” I replied, my voice filled with hurt. “Don't be so dramatic. It was just a mistake,” Elizabeth said defensively. “A mistake that's going to end in divorce,” I replied. “Darling, don’t be like that! It was just a little slip-up!” she pleaded. “It wasn't small; it was a calculated betrayal!” I countered, mocking her tone. “I mimicked,

‘Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't know it would hurt you. Honey, I'm sorry I lied. I was ashamed. I stopped lying as soon as you confronted me!’” “Oh, you mean when you first denied it? Or when you called it an emotional connection? Or the third time when you said it was just a kiss?” I challenged. “You only stopped lying when you saw the photos, but that doesn't mean you won't lie about other things, right?” Elanora, picking up on the tension, interjected, “Maybe we should all avoid saying things we'll regret.” “Are you serious?” I retorted. “Elanora, how

many husbands and boyfriends have you deceived? How many married men have you seduced?” Elizabeth quietly said, “I'm so sorry for what I did.” “Feeling guilty isn't enough! My job is to make sure you feel that guilt properly,” I responded coldly. “It's not that bad,” Elizabeth said, trying to downplay it. “What's the difference between you and a con artist? You gained my trust just to deceive me,” I replied. “I didn't deceive you! Marriage is a contract of fidelity and trust, and you broke it!” she argued. “I kept my end! It was you who betrayed me!” I

shot back. “You forced me to sign that postnuptial agreement!” “It wasn't fair!” Elizabeth complained. “Unfair? If I get a traffic ticket, I pay the fine. If I cheat on my taxes, they take my money. If I drink too much, I go to jail! Cheaters should face consequences! Marriage is about family and loyalty; otherwise, what's the point?” I explained. Elizabeth was silent, unable to respond. “Do you know how many marriages that start with infidelity last more than a few years? Just 5%! Was it your plan to leave me and marry your lover?” “Well, we'll never know

since Joe's gone,” I said, striking a nerve. Elizabeth's face twisted in anger. “I deleted all your so-called evidence! You can't control me anymore! Our parents and the kids don't know what to believe! Was it worth it?” she sneered. “I didn't destroy this marriage; you did. I'm just calling the end of it,” I replied. Elizabeth shot back, “Maybe I wouldn't have slept with someone else if you'd paid more attention to me!” “Why should I when you barely acknowledged me?” I responded. We sat in intense silence for a few moments, both of us trying to calm down.

“Did you eliminate him?” Elizabeth suddenly asked. I smiled slightly, looking at the camera hidden in the pen. “It was an accident,” I replied. “How could you do that?” she tried, attempting to provoke a reaction, but I stayed silent. Her eyes filled with tears. “He was a good man,” she whispered. Allowing some anger into my voice, I said, “Oh, you mean the kind of...” man who seduces other people's wives. Elizabeth started crying, "But you still love me, don't you?" Correction: "I loved you. True love is a privilege that most people never experience, even in marriage. You

had that from me, and all I got in return was your desire for money and fidelity on my part. You threw away real love for cheap thrills. Plenty of people might want you for a fling, but no one will love you like I did—not after what you did to me and the kids." I said, my tone final. Elizabeth's face crumpled as tears flowed down her cheeks. She quickly pulled herself together and changed her approach. "I need a drink. Anyone else?" she asked. "I'll go to the bar and be back so we can talk like adults."

Elizabeth got dressed and left the room. As soon as the door closed, Eleanora looked at me and said, "You look good enough to eat." "Eleanora, now is not the time," I warned. Eleanora moved closer, standing between my legs. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her." I was trying to back her off when she suddenly pulled me onto the bed, screaming, "Please, stop!" Elizabeth burst in, phone in hand. "What are you doing to my sister?" she shouted. Eleanora cried out, "He attacked me! Make him stop!" Elizabeth pushed me back, smirking as she dropped the phone, likely

sending the video to the cloud. "You're in trouble now," she said. "I have a video of you attacking her." The two of them laughed as I sat back in my chair, feigning defeat. Elizabeth wagged her finger and continued, "Here's how this divorce will work: that postnuptial agreement? Forget it. Mention it, and I'll send you to jail. You'll get 10% of everything; I'll get 90%, plus full custody and lifetime support. If you don't agree, the video will make sure you're locked up." "Yes," I replied, realizing I had underestimated her scheming. "Eleanor, address quickly," she said. Just

minutes earlier, Elizabeth had been weeping about lost love; now she was walking out with her sister, both laughing at me. I watched them from the window as they left, then got dressed, retrieved my pen, and exited the hotel. The meeting had gone better than I’d expected. The next day, Elizabeth was served with divorce papers that enforced the terms of the postnuptial agreement. When she threatened to use her recording against me, I replied, "You didn't delete everything. If you try to pin this on me, I'll be out the next day, and you'll be in jail." Elizabeth

was smart enough to wait. We both hired lawyers, and I demanded that the postnuptial agreement be honored. I presented transcripts of all my recordings, explaining to her lawyer that we were in the process of restoring deleted files, but had transcripts for now. After considerable back and forth, we set a court date. The main question was whether the postnuptial agreement was valid and if I had concrete evidence. A few days before the trial, I mailed forged letters to Elizabeth and Eleanora from the CBC, informing them that Joe had been diagnosed with AIDS and advising them to

get tested immediately. The letter instructed them to avoid intimacy for 12 months until they could be sure they were clear. On the day of the trial, the judge wasn't pleased with either of us. Elizabeth claimed the postnuptial agreement had been signed under duress and that she hadn't committed adultery. She cried convincingly. I argued that the agreement was necessary because she was unfaithful and that she had violated our marriage vows, making her an unfit mother. The judge then asked, "What evidence do you have of her infidelity?" My lawyer submitted the video and voice recordings, which matched

the transcripts. We presented the evidence, and the judge turned to me. "Why are you producing these recordings now?" "We obtained the recordings after a long data recovery process. Elizabeth deleted the originals, and certified data recovery is time-consuming. We just received the restored files," my lawyer explained. The judge then addressed me directly. "Did Elizabeth attempt to delete the recordings?" "Yes, your honor. We even have a recording of her admitting to it." I made her believe I had complete control over the videos. "She thought she deleted everything, but I stored backups in multiple places," I replied. Judges

don't take kindly to evidence tampering, and Elizabeth had lied about not cheating, claiming I had no proof. When the judge asked Elizabeth's lawyer if the transcripts matched the recordings, he confirmed, "Yes, your honor." "Do you challenge the authenticity of this recording?" the judge asked Elizabeth's lawyer. Elizabeth glanced at her lawyer and shook her head slightly. "No, your honor," he responded. "This answers the question of validity and nullifies claims of compulsion. However, none of this alone proves infidelity after signing the contract," the judge noted. My lawyer interjected, "Yes, your honor, here is the transcript of a

final video along with the video itself, proving Elizabeth's infidelity after the agreement was signed." The judge looked at my lawyer. "Why is this being presented now?" "This evidence was in police custody as part of an accidental death investigation. We weren't certain it still existed," my lawyer clarified. Turning to Elizabeth's lawyer, the judge asked, "Have you seen this video?" "Yes, your honor, but we believe it's inadmissible as there's no consent form, and if allowed, there's no evidence it wasn't recorded before the agreement," Elizabeth's lawyer argued. "My client paid for plane tickets for Elizabeth, Eleanora, and her

lover, along with the hotel room they used," my lawyer stated. The judge turned to me. "Did you consent to your wife's affair?" "No, your honor. I never agreed or condoned her activities," I replied. "Then why did you pay for their tickets and hotel?" the judge asked, pressing further. "I asked her lover how much he needed to stop seeing my..." Wife, he asked for $2,000 tickets to Jamaica and a three-night stay at a five-star hotel. We agreed, and I bought ticket vouchers, but he used the airfare and hotel vouchers for a stay in Florida the following

week while my wife was supposedly at a conference. I explained, "How do we know this is the right hotel?" The judge asked. "In the first photo, you can see the hotel sign in the background," I pointed out. "How did you acquire this video?" the judge continued. "I paid for it. When I discovered my wife's affairs, I asked him for proof. He provided visual evidence." I replied, "Why were you collecting this evidence?" The judge asked. "For divorce," I said. "Did he know why you were collecting this information?" The judge asked again. "Yes, several months ago," I

explained. "It was easier and more affordable to gather evidence from him rather than hire a private investigator. I paid him $500 for an additional video." I clarified that Elizabeth violated the postnuptial agreement. "If you need someone to testify about the video's authenticity and date, her sister Elanora is right there," I said, pointing at Elanora. Everyone turned to look at her, and the judge reprimanded me for using inappropriate language. I immediately apologized. The judge then asked, "Is that all you got from your wife's lover that night?" Looking at Elizabeth, I said, "Yes, but her lover provided

most of the records you have here today. He had been documenting everything for months, including hotel bills and airfare. I paid him around $3,000." Elizabeth's face flushed with anger as she realized her lover had been selling these encounters to me for the divorce for a mere $3,000. She would have paid ten times that to keep it hidden. Although furious, I could see her calculating, believing this was all I had. She assumed if I had more, I would have shown it already. When I finished, Elizabeth made a quick decision, whispering to her lawyer, who then requested

a break as we neared lunch. The judge granted it. When we returned, Elizabeth's lawyer claimed they had a video showing me committing a crime of infidelity, which violated the postnup. Both Elizabeth and Elanora were prepared to vouch for its authenticity. Elizabeth confirmed my sister and I didn't want to put the father of my children in jail, but now I see how manipulative he truly is. The video showed the hotel door, someone screaming, "Please stop!" and Elizabeth bursting in, recording me on top of Elanora. Elizabeth's voice on the video screamed, "What are you doing to my

sister?" while Elanora cried, "He attacked me!" Elizabeth then grabbed her sister, dropped the phone, and the video ended. "What happened next?" the judge asked. "I locked myself in the bathroom and told my husband that if he didn't leave in two minutes, I'd call the police. I also told him I'd uploaded the video to the cloud," Elizabeth replied. "Yes, I see," the judge remarked, casting a suspicious look my way. I noticed Elizabeth's parents watching me with distrust. The judge then turned to me. "What do you say in your defense?" My lawyer responded, "We have a video

to refute this claim." Elizabeth's lawyer tried to object, arguing that the video was irrelevant, but the judge allowed it. Elizabeth's lawyer sat down, visibly defeated, and Elizabeth looked pale. The video began with a discussion of the need to strip down to avoid recording devices, and it ended with Elizabeth and Elanora leaving the room laughing. The judge looked at me with a faint understanding, hinting at shared life experiences. Elizabeth whispered to her lawyer, who shook his head in resignation. My lawyer confirmed that none of my statements in the video were self-incriminating, which frustrated Elizabeth. Her initial

goal had been to sweetly convince me to forgive her; her secondary goal was to set me up with incriminating evidence regarding her lover's death. The fabricated attack on Elanora backfired. Elanora attempted to slip out of the courtroom, but the video revealed her initiating contact by pulling me onto the bed, forcing her to sit back down. Elizabeth was clearly ashamed; her parents sighed heavily behind her, and some of her relatives left the courtroom before the video ended. Elizabeth knew she'd lost their support. The judge ruled in favor of enforcing the postnup. My lawyer then unveiled Elizabeth's

secret bank account, containing more funds than all our shared assets combined. She'd been depositing extra paychecks and bonuses there for years and had even taken out a second mortgage on her house. I'd asked my lawyer not to mention the secret account, but he presented my own bank account statement to the judge showing that Elizabeth had transferred our mortgage funds to her secret account. This led to the discovery of her hidden assets. The second mortgage transfer was actually my doing, using her login credentials. I'd uncovered her secret account when I installed monitoring software. Any undisclosed funds

during divorce proceedings fall under specific laws. The judge awarded me 100% of our shared assets and required Elizabeth to pay all attorney fees and court costs. Due to her greed, she transferred all our property to her secret account, meaning I didn't owe her any share of the house's value. The judge also sentenced both Elizabeth and Elanora to 90 days in jail for perjury. I received 95% of our property, full custody of the children, the house, two of our three best cars, and several years of alimony. Elizabeth was left with only 5%, which didn't even cover

her legal fees. She kept her clothes, car, and jewelry, but I'd already sold her expensive pieces after learning of her affair. She hadn't noticed since I'd stopped taking her out. I used the money from her jewelry and the accident insurance to buy my dream car. Elizabeth struggled to stay involved with the kids and had to commute an hour to... Work; they never forgave her and felt embarrassed to be seen with her. Both she and Elanora ended up working as bar waitresses. I also sent Joe's parting words to the husbands of six women he'd been involved

with, sharing drunken messages Elizabeth occasionally sent to my phone. Sometimes she blames me for ruining her life and wishes I were dead; other times, she sobs, begs for forgiveness, and pleads for us to reunite. I save every message in video in case she tries to interfere in our children's lives. Elizabeth never truly loved me as I loved her, for her life was about what she could take, not what she could give. I now have a restraining order against her and Elanora, as they may still harbor resentment toward me.