I Caught My Wife Cheating: My Daughter Said, "Dad, You Have to Know One Thing". Sad Audio Story

[Music] Growing up in a small town outside St. Louis, life was shaped by the rhythm of my family's business: a bustling bar and a restaurant that brought in all types of people. My siblings and I learned early on that running such an establishment required not just hard work, but a keen sense of discretion. It was a world where secrets hid in plain sight, where laughter and whispers mingled in the air. This upbringing molded me, sharpening my instincts and shaping the way I viewed trust and loyalty, especially in relationships. Years passed, and I carved my

own path away from the bar, building a career and a family with Vicki, a woman who shared my values and had her own unyielding ambition. We built a life rooted in shared experiences and mutual respect. However, my childhood memories filled with tales of infidelity and hidden truths occasionally surfaced, coloring the way I saw the world and those around me. The evening began like any other Friday night. I arrived home later than usual, only to find that my wife, Victoria, hadn't returned yet. I wasn't thrilled that she'd gone out for drinks with friends after work, but

what choice did I have? Every marriage needs space and independence. Vicki, however, was always considerate, keeping me informed about her plans, where they were going, and making sure she didn't stay out too late. Most evenings, she would be back by 8:00, well within reason. This afternoon, during a work review, I got a text from Vicki: "The four of us are having a drink. I'll be home late, my love." Vicki always valued her reputation; these outings happened no more than every 3 to 4 weeks. But why did it bother me so much? That's a longer story

for another time. To put it simply, I have trust issues—not just with women, but with anyone who spends time at bars without their spouse or frequently travels for work. Vicki did both, but the traveling was the hardest for me to deal with. You might be wondering why I have these issues and how they shape my view of Vicki. Here's a story that might explain it: I literally grew up in a bar. My parents owned and ran the most popular bar in our small town outside St. Louis, Missouri. They also had an upscale French restaurant in

the same building. People from all over came for dinner and then moved next door to dance the night away. I saw it all—the laughter, dancing, and quiet talks over drinks that sometimes turned into arguments or romantic whispers. My parents were strict about certain things; from a young age, they made sure I knew the importance of discretion and prudence. The summer I turned 16, they decided it was time for me to start learning the family business. My older brother and sister had started working there when they turned 16. By the time I began, my brother was

21, with a degree in hotel and restaurant management, and ran the bar. My sister, nearly 19, had just started college. But at 16, I wasn't allowed to work in the bar; I started waiting tables in the restaurant. I didn't like it. Like most teenagers, I wanted to spend time with friends, have fun, and work as little as possible while making good money. I dreamed of working somewhere I could flirt with young, pretty girls. I'd been waiting tables for about 3 weeks when things began to change. The restaurant and bar attracted a mix of people: businessmen,

young couples, and older folks out for a nostalgic night. One evening, I saw something that opened my eyes. "Oh my God!" I whispered, standing in the doorway between the restaurant and the bar. My eyes darted from table to table, taking in sights I never imagined: women in little black dresses, men leaning in to share whispers. My teenage heart raced at scenes almost too much to process. I was so distracted that my parents had to call me back to the restaurant multiple times. I remember one night when my sister, Sarah, caught me watching too intently. She

walked up to me with a frown. "Donnie, you better get back to work and ignore what you see; otherwise, you're going to get in trouble." I half-smiled and said, "But little sister, that's Mrs. Horton with a man! She's not even wearing underwear! Do you think Mr. Horton knows? I can't wait to tell the guys; this is unbelievable!" Sarah's eyes widened in shock as she glanced over her shoulder and muttered, "Oh crap." Just then, I felt my father's large hand on my shoulder. He squeezed hard and said, "Don, come with me now." His voice was firm,

leaving no room for argument. He walked through the dining room, past the waiter station, and into his office. I followed slowly, my stomach twisting with nerves. When I entered, my father pointed to the chair in front of his desk. "Close the door and sit down," he said. I did, my pulse quickening. I thought, "This is going to be really bad." My father's expression was unreadable. Finally, he spoke. "Don, I should have talked to you about this before you started working here, but I didn't. I had this conversation with your brother and sister, and it never

gets easier." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Mrs. Horton is a beautiful woman, isn't she?" His question caught me off guard, and I felt my face flush. I fidgeted in my chair, unsure of how to respond. Before I could, he repeated, "Isn't she?" I nodded slightly and whispered, "Yeah." My dad leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers interlaced. He looked tired, his eyes weary. "Listen, Don, this business is our life and how we make a living. It supports our family, keeps a roof over our heads, and pays for your brother's college." And we'll

do the same for you and your sister if we don't mess it up. He paused to let the words sink in before continuing, "If you see someone you know come in with their family, greet them by name, chat briefly, and then get back to work. However, if they come in with someone who isn't their spouse, you act as if you didn't see them. You don't acknowledge them, you don't remember them being here, and you certainly don't discuss it with anyone else. Part of working in the food and bar industry means having selective hearing and vision.

If a customer does something questionable, we ignore it and don't talk about it outside of this place. That's what they expect from us, and it's why they trust us." I nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. He fixed me with a serious look. "If I ever find out that you or anyone on staff has gossiped about a customer, they'll be fired immediately, no exceptions. We are known for our discretion; that's what keeps customers coming back. Do you understand, son?" "Yes, sir," I whispered. "Good." My father leaned back in his chair, some tension

easing from his shoulders. "Now get back to work and remember what I said." I returned to work that day and continued working at the restaurant throughout high school and college. I never gossiped about customers, but I witnessed more dishonesty than someone my age should. As I got older and started working in the bar, I observed groups of men or women having boys' or girls' nights. I watched as married individuals did things that wouldn't pass the test of marital loyalty. I learned—maybe I learned too much—because I became intolerant of those who attended parties and stayed late.

I realized that many out-of-towners were just looking for fun and trying to meet locals. It was fine if they were single, but many were married or wore wedding rings. Often, they ended up with other married clients. I grew to disrespect and feel disgusted by them, but treated everyone with the same level of politeness and discretion. Ultimately, we wanted a successful business. I noticed that people who came to parties and left early, after a drink or two, had solid, stable marriages. Those who stayed late often had troubled marriages, and many later divorced. During my freshman year

of college, my father hired a new waitress. When I first saw Victoria, I was struck by desire. Over the next two years of working together, we fell in love. We met each other's families and relatives; we talked and discovered that we were kindred spirits. We laughed at the antics and foolishness of the unfaithful customers we saw. Finally, the Christmas before our college graduation, I proposed to Vicki. By then, we both knew we shared the same values and wanted to be together for life. The only bump in our relationship was our parents' request for a prenuptial

agreement. Vicki and I believed it was unnecessary, as we saw ourselves as life partners. My parents had a business and, to my surprise, a significant investment portfolio that they wanted to protect if I inherited it. To my surprise, Vicki's parents had the same concerns; they had considerable wealth and wanted Vicki's share protected in case of a divorce. The agreement they drafted solved these issues. We agreed that anything we owned before marriage or inherited from our maternal relatives would remain ours if we divorced. The agreement also covered pensions, which we would each keep; only jointly acquired

property after marriage would be divided. The agreement even addressed child care, stating that if we divorced while having minor children, custody would go to the parent who traveled less, unless it posed a risk to the children. Graduation day finally came. Vicki graduated with a bachelor's degree in finance and secured a great job at a local brokerage firm. I graduated with a bachelor's degree in construction management and a minor in landscape architecture. After college, I worked for a construction company for two years to learn the trade. Neither Vicki nor I were interested in running a restaurant

or bar; my parents turned the business into a corporation, and we let my sister and brother manage it. Mom stayed on as the accountant while Dad remained the behind-the-scenes boss. After two years, I started my own construction and landscaping company. Since Vicki and I struggled to cover our mortgage and car payments, my parents provided the startup capital through the family corporation. I received a salary to manage the business. It was challenging at first, but Vicki steadily climbed the career ladder. One day, she came home elated; she had been selected for a position in the brokerage

firm's compliance department, which ensured that all satellite offices adhered to SEC regulations. The only downside was that the job required some travel, usually three to four days a month. My past made me uneasy about it. Over time, my business grew from handling small remodels to adding rooms, garages, and constructing new buildings. With landscaping, I was content and never tried to take the business out of the corporation and make it solely mine. My salary increased each year as the business grew in value and income. I gradually accepted Vicki's travel, though I never felt entirely comfortable. Even

though I wasn't thrilled when she went out with friends, it wasn't often, and she was usually home by 8:00 p.m. Of course, I occasionally traveled and went out for a beer with the construction crews or office staff. It was good management, but I made sure to leave after a couple of beers and was typically home no more than an hour later than usual, unless Vicki joined me. After three years of marriage, Vicki and I decided it was time to start a family. Our first child was Patrick, followed by... Little Suzanne, 18 months later, she was

tiny, and as she grew, she had me wrapped around her finger. By the time she turned four, she was a younger version of her mother. When she gets older, she's sure to make your heart stop. As Vicki gained more experience at work, she became known as the go-to person for handling tough office situations. She could identify issues and knew how to help fix them. If she faced resistance, she wasn't afraid to call out the wrongdoing. If that didn't work, she would escalate the issue to headquarters and push harder. Many office managers who crossed paths with

her ended up seeking new jobs because of this. Vicki's travel increased; sometimes she was away for up to two weeks a month. We both hated it. We discussed it, and she believed she was on track to lead her department within two years, which would end the travel and come with a big salary boost. We agreed to push through until then. Due to the economic downturn, my small company had to take on jobs we would have passed on before the housing and stock markets crashed. We had already let go of about half of our staff. We

weren't in financial trouble because we avoided major loans and heavy overhead, but we weren't as profitable as before. One small job I took on ended up steering my marriage toward disaster. I wish I'd never taken it; maybe I'd still be happily married, maybe not. That Thursday morning, I walked into my office, wondering why I even showed up. The night before, I had stayed late to finish all the paperwork on my desk. Vicki had been out of town all week for compliance inspections, and based on our conversations, wouldn't be home until late Friday evening. I considered

heading straight to one of our three job sites to spend the day working hands-on and inspecting the progress. As most know, the best way to keep employees alert and ensure quality is for the boss to be on site, ready to step in. I hadn't been at my desk long when my assistant called me. She said, "Don, we have a casual environment here, and I try to treat my staff like family. Mrs. Sloan is here to discuss building a deck and landscaping her backyard. Do you have time to see her?" I thought a nice little porch

and some plants. I decided to take the meeting; a small job could still keep some of my guys employed and help their families. When Mrs. Sloan walked in, I was stunned. I could barely speak. She looked so much like Mrs. Horton, the first woman I'd ever been infatuated with, that it caught me off guard. I finally collected myself, stood up, and greeted her. "Mrs. Sloan, nice to meet you. I'm Don Patterson." She said, "You're here to build porches?" "That's right," I replied. "Please have a seat so we can discuss your plans." "I'm sorry, but you

remind me of someone I knew when I was younger," I said, feeling like she just walked in the room. "Please forgive me," Jasmine laughed, a light and familiar sound. "Don, it's me, Jasmine. Jasmine Horton." She must have noticed my confusion because she added, "You know, Denita and Alfred Horton's daughter. We used to come to your family's restaurant all the time." I blinked in surprise. "Oh my God, I'm sorry. You were younger back then, and you've changed so much." Jasmine's laugh tinkled again. "Well, I guess we've all changed. I was only 10 when my parents divorced,

and after that, Mom and I couldn't afford to visit your place anymore." With a sigh, Jasmine continued, "Anyway, my husband and I just bought a house near where we used to live. He said we could build a porch and maybe add a Jacuzzi if the price is right. We'd like to move forward. When I heard you had a construction business, I wanted to ask you first before anyone else." We spent the rest of the morning reminiscing and discussing her and her husband, Steven's, plans. Once we had a rough outline of what they wanted, I told

her I'd need to visit the property and take measurements to give an accurate quote. She replied, "No problem, Don. I'm free all day, so just let me know when you'd like to come." I said, "How about I come by at 1:00 this afternoon? I need to check in at my job sites and grab some lunch first, but then I'll have the rest of the day to take measurements and prepare an estimate. Does that work for you?" Jasmine left, and I stepped out of my office to tell my secretary, Laura, "I'll be out for the rest

of the day. I'm heading to the job sites, grabbing lunch, and then going to Mrs. Sloan's to assess her project. Lock up when you leave and call my cell if you need anything." Everything was going smoothly at work, but I ended up staying longer than planned to meet with one of the property owners, which made me late for lunch. I arrived at Sloan's around 1:30. Jasmine greeted me at the door, and the first thing I did was apologize for my tardiness. "Mrs. Sloan, I'm sorry for being late. I met with a property owner and waited

for him." I tried to call but only got your answering machine. Jasmine laughed softly. "I've told you, just call me Jasmine. Sorry I missed your call earlier; I was cleaning the pool when I got home and left my cordless phone inside. But no worries, you're here now. Would you like something to drink or should we head out to look at the yard?" I smiled and shook my head. "I'm fine, Jasmine. Let's just go check out your backyard." After taking all the measurements, I said, "It's easy to estimate most of this, but..." Since you don't have

a hot tub yet, you'll need to buy one before I can give you a full quote. I need its dimensions to order the necessary materials. Jasmine looked surprised and said, "Oh, I thought you provide the hot tub too! I don't know much about them. Can't you just include it in the project?" I chuckled and said, "Yes, Jasmine, I can do that, but we don't sell them, so I'll need to buy it elsewhere. To do that, I need to know the size you want. Will it be built-in or stand-alone, and will it run on 210 or

110 volts?" Jasmine seemed flustered, reminding me of how she'd get upset over small things when she was younger. Finally, I said, "Why don't we discuss it a bit, and you could call your husband or talk to him tonight? I can wait to finalize this until you've decided on the hot tub." Now Jasmine seemed genuinely anxious, almost shaking. She said, "Oh no, I can't call him. He told me to handle this, and I plan to. He's on a business trip in Denver, so I won't see him until the weekend. Let's figure this out now." I asked

her more about how they'd use the hot tub and learned they rarely had guests; mostly, she used the pool and backyard, sometimes with one or two friends. Once I had enough information, we went to my supplier, and Jasmine picked out a small five-person hot tub. I took the measurements, and we returned to her house. I asked if there was a place where I could connect to the internet to access my office system; some of my budget items changed on Thursdays, and I wanted up-to-date prices before preparing the quote. Jasmine smiled and said, "Of course, Don,

come into the office. Steve works as a manufacturer's rep for Saving Business Systems, so he has a great home office for when he's not traveling. You can connect your laptop to our network or use our desktop." I stepped into the office and was impressed; it was set up like a professional business space, with a desk to the left of the door, windows overlooking the backyard, two leather chairs in front of the desk, and a bookshelf on the opposite wall. Jasmine walked behind the desk and pulled out a chair for me. She smiled and said, "You

can sit here while you work. Let me know if you need anything." "Thank you," I said as I walked to the desk. I set my laptop down and sat. Jasmine handed me a DSL cable to connect. When I reached for it, my eyes caught a photograph. I paused, hand hovering, then pulled back and stared at it before picking it up. Jasmine noticed my reaction and looked puzzled as she held out the cable; her eyes moved between my face and the photo I was gripping tightly. "Is something wrong?" she asked, concern crossing her face. "That's my

husband, my pride and joy. I keep telling him to replace that picture with one of him and his child, but he won't. I'm tired of seeing his ex-girlfriend every time I use the desk. Why are you looking at me like that? What's the matter?" I carefully placed the photo back on the desk and stepped away. "Jasmine, did you say your husband was in Denver?" I asked, my voice strained. Her expression shifted to surprise. "Yes, I did. Why do you ask?" "My wife is also in Denver and has been all week." Jasmine's eyes widened as she

processed the information. "Wow, that's strange. So you married Steve's ex-girlfriend." "We've only been married for 18 months. When did you get married?" A knot formed in my stomach as I looked at Jasmine. "Vicki and I have been married for 9 years. This photo can't be more than two years old. I recognized the necklace I bought her for Christmas just over two years ago. She also bought that outfit specifically for our summer vacation the following year." Jasmine hesitated, then said, "If what you're suggesting is true, Don, I'm so sorry. But why does her being in Denver

worry you?" "Jasmine," I continued, "you mentioned you've been married for 18 months. Based on what Vicki's wearing in that photo, I think it was taken right around when you and Steve got married. When did he frame it, and what did he tell you about it?" "It can't be," Jasmine responded, her voice breaking. "The photo was taken the day he won first place at the big state Chevrolet car show." Tears welled in Jasmine's eyes as she sank into one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. She continued quietly, "That was three weeks before we

got married. I never suspected anything. He told me it was an old picture, but he's holding the first place trophy." "Damn him." "Wait a minute, Jasmine," I said, trying to steady my thoughts. "Let's think this through carefully. I saw plenty of situations like this when I worked in my family's restaurant. I learned to stay quiet because cheaters always get exposed eventually. Yes, this looks suspicious, but all we know for sure is that Steve and Vicki are in front of his car, hugging. The photo appears to be about 18 months to 2 years old. You're younger

than us, so I doubt Steve could be one of Vicky's ex-boyfriends, but it's not impossible. Vicky and I started dating when we were 18, while..." Working at my dad's restaurant, I know the names of most of her past crushes, just like you probably know Steve's. How old is he, by the way? He's 29 and I'm 27, Jasmine said. I nodded slowly. "That's possible since Vicki isn't quite 31." I don't know what to make of this. Damn, what do we do now? If we confront them, they'll just deny it. Whether it's something from the past or

happening now, if they're involved and we confront them, they might become more secretive or even run away together. I feel like I need to ask, but until today, I trusted Vicki completely. I'm at a loss. We talked more and came up with what we thought was a reasonable plan. We decided not to mention what we had discovered that day. Jasmine wouldn't tell Steve about our conversation, and we would hire a private investigator to look into both Vicki and Steve. The next day, we spoke to the security company we used for our construction sites, and they

referred us to an investigative agency they worked with. We talked to their staff and signed a contract for their services. We each wrote a check for our share of the advance. Jasmine used a shortened name on her check so that if Steve asked, she could say it was a deposit for the project. I used my business account, which Vicki never checked, so I was in the clear. I'd just cover any business expenses later. Three weeks later, Jasmine and I met with the investigator. He said, "Don, Jasmine, I'm happy to report that we couldn't find any

evidence suggesting your spouses are seeing each other or even know each other. We monitored them every afternoon and after work, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. The only unusual thing was last Friday when Mrs. Patterson and some co-workers went out in St. Louis, visiting several bars and dancing with different men. Vicki danced with Steve once, but it was innocent. They kept a decent distance and neither's hands wandered; there was no kissing or anything inappropriate, and they didn't speak to each other after the dance." I exhaled deeply and leaned back in my chair, glancing

from the investigator to Jasmine. A nagging thought began to take root that this entire situation might be fueled by the deep-seated distrust I had developed from years of working in the family business. I'd gone so far as to check phone records and install cameras and voice recorders in our house, as well as in Vicki's car and purse. Every search came up clean. Finally, I spoke. "I guess this was just paranoia on my part. I'm relieved, but I feel ashamed for doubting them." "Wait a second," Jasmine said, her tone serious. "Didn't you mention that Steve is

going to San Antonio next week?" She hesitated as if piecing something together. "Yes, but why does that matter?" I leaned forward, a new sense of urgency creeping in. "Oh, we won't need to monitor anyone next week, right?" "That's exactly when we should be paying attention. Vicki told me two weeks ago that she has a compliance check next week. I can't remember exactly where, but I think she said Austin. Depending on their schedules, they could be within an hour of each other. We've already confirmed there's nothing suspicious here at home, so let's focus on monitoring this

trip. If nothing turns up, I'll admit it was all in my head. It's reasonable to think that if they were just old friends, she might have posed for a photo with his trophy." Throughout the investigation and uncertainty, Jasmine and I saw no change in how Vicki or Steve treated us. Their behavior was exactly as it had always been. I thought long and hard, but couldn't identify any shift in Vicki's actions or attitude since we began dating, or even in the early years of our marriage. She treated me as if I were the only man in

her life. She still initiated closeness, responded to me warmly, and was as loving and attentive as ever. The Friday night before Vicki's upcoming trip, we went out for a date. Later, as we lay in bed, I turned to her and asked, "Do you remember when we worked at my dad's restaurant and used to laugh at all the cheaters and the ridiculous things people did?" I thought I noticed a brief tension in her body, but it was fleeting. She smiled and turned to face me. "Yes, some of those people were really unbelievable. Sometimes when I see

similar behavior at work, I think back to those days and wonder how people can be so foolish. Why do you ask?" "A guy at work thinks his wife is cheating," I said. "He hasn't found any proof, though. When he shared his worries with me, I thought back to those times and told him to stay calm. I suggested he stay observant because cheaters eventually expose themselves. I also mentioned that taking the time to figure things out is better for the children since divorce always affects them." Vicki's expression turned somber as she responded. "Why do you assume

a marriage has to end in divorce? Maybe the wife really loves her husband and the affair means nothing to her. Maybe she doesn't want a divorce at all." "No, Vicki," I said. "He's like me. He spent time in bars and has the same low tolerance for infidelity that we do. I can't see him accepting a long-term affair, just as we wouldn't. Maybe he'd forgive a one-time mistake, but never something ongoing." Vicki tensed again when I said I wouldn't accept a long-term affair, but she smiled, turned to me, kissed me softly, and said, "I'm glad you're

still the man I married. We know how devastating affairs can be. If he needs help, try to talk sense into him." him, and maybe we can both help him get through it. Good night, sweetheart. We settled in bed, but from all the tossing and turning, it was clear neither of us fell asleep quickly. The next week was hard for me; I called the investigators twice, but all they said was, "Our team is monitoring both of them, and we will provide a report by next Monday." Finally, Monday came, and Jasmine and I met at the investigator's

office. As we sat down, we felt like bad news was coming. The investigator leaned back and said, "You know, when you asked us to follow your spouses last week, I almost said it would be a waste of money. This turned out to be one of the trickiest infidelity cases we've ever seen, but you were right: Steve and Vicky are having an affair. We have photos and recorded conversations to prove it. I'm honestly surprised; if we'd only followed them locally, we wouldn't have found out. Based on the recordings, they meet only three or four times a

year, far from here. They act as if it's coincidental when they're in the same city and work hard to appear as just acquaintances, but what we uncovered showed they're skilled at hiding it. They traveled to two different cities, stayed in different hotels, and met at a third hotel without sharing a room. They booked adjoining rooms at different times, with Steve paying cash for his and Vicki checking in as Angela Foster with a government ID under that name. Steve checked in as Steven Allen, also using a government ID. They stayed only from Tuesday to Thursday and

only saw each other on those days." I leaned back, processing everything. "Foster? Vicky's maiden name is Victoria Angela Foster," Jasmine whispered. "Allen is Steve's middle name." "Well," I said, "I guess that's it, except for the tears. I'll contact a divorce attorney as soon as possible." Jasmine started to respond, but the investigator cut in. "Hold on. That's not everything. Usually, I wouldn't mention this, but something doesn't add up. I know they were intimate, but this doesn't feel like a typical affair. It seems more like some elaborate game. We have hours of conversations on tape, and most

are innocent. There were only two intimate moments the whole week, and their pillow talk was odd. Here, let me play a recording so you can see what I mean." When the investigator played the specific part of the tape, we heard Vicki speaking. "You know, Steve, I'm starting to think we need to end this. We've been doing this for six years and had our fun. We've proven that we're the exception to the rule—smart cheaters. I'm sure you'd agree that sex between us isn't nearly as good as with our spouses. Plus, something Don said Friday night is

bothering me. We talked in bed, and he reminded me of what we learned working at his parents' restaurant: that all cheaters eventually get caught. No one thinks through all the possibilities. At some point, every cheater either gets overconfident or makes a minor mistake that exposes them. I'm still uneasy about Denver. It was the first time we were in the same city, and I think it was a mistake. We shouldn't have deviated from the plan; we should only meet in different cities, close enough to rendezvous in the middle, like we do here. Sure, it's a hassle

to book two rooms and pay for an unused one, but we've proven our point: we're smart cheaters, and if you play it smart, you can cheat and win. I don't want to do anything that could make me lose Don. I love him more than anything; he's the best man I've ever known. Honestly, after our first couple of encounters, the real thrill for me was in the planning and scheming. The logistics—booking rooms and coordinating details—became more enjoyable than solving a puzzle or Sudoku. Sex just dulls the excitement. Don't deny it; I know you feel the same

way. You even told me in Denver that you always left unsatisfied." The investigator paused the tape and looked at us. "That's not all, but this part of the conversation was the most puzzling. I can't quite make sense of it." I started laughing, surprising both Jasmine and the investigator. Regaining my composure, I said, "I'm sorry; it's not funny. I'm furious, but I need to explain something. A few years back, a couple we were friends with divorced after the wife was caught cheating. She had been doing it for almost four years and was exposed by a simple

mistake. The night we found out, Vicky and I were with friends, and we ended up discussing infidelity and how cheaters often make foolish decisions. We remembered what my father used to say when we worked at his restaurant and what we witnessed there. Vicki argued that anyone could cheat successfully if they were smart and kept it controlled. I disagreed, saying no one could cheat without eventually being caught. It might take years, but it would happen. I said even a minor innocent slip could expose it. We both stuck to our points, but for weeks afterward, Vicki would

mention smart cheaters winning. I believe her affair with Steve began around that argument. Vicki has always taken pride in her intelligence, and I think I unknowingly pushed the wrong button. She wanted to prove she could do it and get away with it. She probably could have if she had stopped earlier, but now, no, she won't get away with it." Jasmine and I were now waiting to meet with a divorce attorney. Since sharing the cost of the investigator had worked well, we decided to share the lawyer fees too. When we were called into the office, the

lawyer looked surprised. "Mr. Patterson, and is this Mrs. Patterson?" I smirked and said, "No, sir, I'm..." Don Patterson, and this is Jasmine Sloan. We found out her husband and my wife were cheating on us, so we split the cost of the investigator. Now we're hoping to split your fee as well. Attorney George Spalding smiled and gestured for us to sit. "Of course. Let's see if we can work something out. Please have a seat." I handed him a copy of the investigator's report and photos. Before he could review them, I said, "I don't think my case

will be too complex. I also brought a list of everything Vicky and I own and how and when we acquired it. Here's a copy of the prenuptial agreement, which details property division and child custody. All I want is a divorce due to infidelity and a settlement per the agreement." Jasmine's case might be more complicated. I sat back and waited as he reviewed the documents. After finishing my paperwork, Jasmine provided hers, which was similar, except she didn't have a prenuptial agreement. The lawyer outlined the divorce process, timelines, and his fees. He also discussed what Jasmine might

want from her divorce. Finally, he said, "I think that's enough for now. I'll review everything, including the investigator's report. If I have questions, I'll reach out; otherwise, I'll prepare the documents and move forward. Would you like me to serve the papers directly or contact you first?" Jasmine and I agreed we wanted a call when the documents were ready to be served. We left the attorney's office and went back to our routines, deciding to stay in touch. Two days later, George Spalding called. After some small talk, George said, "Don, I've reviewed everything you gave me, and

I have to tell you this is the strangest case I've ever seen. I even had two partners look at it, and they agree: yes, there was infidelity, but it's clear that your wife loves you. Honestly, it doesn't even seem like a traditional affair; it feels more like a game where they had to include sex to play. Don, are you sure you want to move forward with this? I mean, you said you had an almost perfect marriage—no fights, a good, stable life, mutual love and respect. If you don't mind me saying so, it's almost like you

were part of this game too. Now the only option left is divorce. Could you talk to Vicki and move past it? You know she told Steve that they needed to end it and that it was just a game for her." I sat and thought for a moment before responding. "No, George, I've asked myself that question a lot. At one point, I thought I could move on. If it had been just a game without sex and only an emotional or pretend affair, I might have been able to ignore it. Maybe Vicki was angry that I mocked

her belief that she could cheat smartly and not get caught. She couldn't let my statement go—that all cheaters are eventually exposed. If she had crossed the line and slept with Steve, I might have looked past it. But it's been six years. Even if the sex wasn't fulfilling for them, it was still infidelity, and she has to face the consequences." George sighed. "Well, it's your life. I hate doing this, but I have the documents ready. When do you want her served?" I smiled slightly. "George, she and Steve are on the East Coast this week. She's supposed

to return late Friday afternoon. Can we serve her at her office on Friday? Her flight lands around noon, so she should be back at her office by 3:30 or 4:00. I'd like her served then, along with the recording I have. It's the clip where she talks to Steve about breaking things off. You're welcome to listen, but at the end, I say they lost. Like I said, cheaters always get caught." On Friday morning, I gathered my team in the office before they left for their work sites. I informed them that Vicki and I were getting a

divorce and explained the reasons behind it. I instructed them not to take any orders from her or share any details about the business or my personal life. Once they left, my secretary, Laura, stayed behind. "Oh Don, I'm so sorry," she said. "I can't believe Vicki would do this. I remember how much she hated cheaters." Laura gave a sad chuckle, recalling some of the things she said when we'd see someone we knew acting that way. I never would have guessed. At 4:10 that afternoon, George called to confirm that the documents had been served. By 4:30, the

call I had been dreading came. Vicki's name flashed on the caller ID. I answered, "Hello?" I heard her crying, and then her voice, shaky and broken, said, "Don, can't we stop this? You know I love you with all my heart. I see now how stupid I was, but you made me so angry that night with your arrogant lecture about how smart cheaters never get away with it. For the first year, it was just planning and meeting to prove we could. I know you heard me tell Steve I didn’t love him and that the sex wasn't

even good. We were going to stop. Please don’t do this. I still can't believe you found out after all these years. I need to know how you did it." "Vicki, this isn't on me," I said, my voice steady now. "You did this. I have to end it. I thought we were on the same page about cheating. I thought we agreed it was unacceptable and that cheaters would always face the consequences. I can't understand how you justified this to yourself." I decided to tell Vicki how I discovered her affair. "Vicki," I began, "I wasn't going to

tell you this, but now I think I should. You were right; going to Denver was..." A mistake. The Thursday before you came back, Jasmine Sloan visited the office to discuss building a deck and landscaping her yard. She let me use Steve's office, and while I was there, I saw a picture of you with him and his trophy from the State Classic Chevrolet show. Jasmine mentioned that you were one of Steve's old girlfriends. At first, I almost believed her until I noticed that in the photo you looked exactly like you do now, not years ago, and

you were wearing the jewelry and clothes I bought for you about two years ago. I almost set my doubts aside, thinking that maybe you dated him before we met and had just run into him at the car show I added. But then, after more conversations with Jasmine, I found out that you and Steve were both in Denver that week. We hired an investigator and tracked you for a month. Other than one dance at a party with your friends, there was no contact between you two. We were about to dismiss everything, thinking the photo was just

a coincidence, but by then, Jasmine and I were already sharing a lot of details. I remembered her mentioning that Steve would be in San Antonio the same weekend you said you'd be in Austin, so we decided to follow you. If we found nothing, we would have let it go, but we did find something, didn't we? I heard Vicki's quiet sobs before she finally spoke. "Don, I love you so much. I don't want to lose you. Can you forgive me just this once?" I sighed heavily. "No, I can't. Not now. Maybe if it hadn't gone so

far, but I can't move past the fact that you slept with him and how long it went on." "Don, don't you see?" Vicki pleaded. "It wasn't serious; it was like a game. We only had sex because we were away and both wanted an outlet. We used each other to relieve frustration. We never said we loved each other; it was just about the game and finding some relief." "Vicki, that doesn't matter. What matters is that you did it. You planned it, met up with Steve, and made a fool out of me. I'm sure it started at

one of those parties, didn't it?" Vicki said, "Yes, it did. We were chatting when he invited me to dance. The girls and I had been talking about a couple we knew who had an affair and got caught. I mentioned that there's no such thing as a smart traitor. While we were dancing, I told Steve about that, and he said, 'I bet we could beat that! I travel a lot; if I found someone who did too, we could meet far from home and never get caught.' We danced some more, and then we decided to test it.

He was a manufacturer's rep; I was conducting compliance reviews. We figured out we'd be in the same place in a few weeks and planned to meet. We developed a secret, non-committal arrangement," she continued. "We agreed not to call each other at home or on our personal phones. We used burner phones and work calls just to schedule meetings. I even got a new credit card that was billed to my parents' address. We thought we covered every trace except for the photos. I didn't know he kept those." Vicki gave a sad smile. "One mistake and the traitor

is caught. I'm so sorry, Don. I got caught up in the excitement. I love you." There was a click as she hung up, and I realized tears were streaming down my face. I sat back, lost in thought when Laura said goodnight. My next memory was darkness. Outside, both sets of parents tried to stop me from divorcing Vicki, with her parents' plea being the most heartfelt one. Saturday they visited to see the kids, and we sat by the pool. Vicki's mother turned to me, her expression full of concern. "Don, we know she messed up badly. That

first night she came to our house hysterical, saying she'd ruined everything. Eventually, she told us everything and showed us the evidence." I met her eyes as she continued. "Don, if her father had done what she did, I would have left him too. But can't you at least try to forgive her? I see how much she loves you in the way she looks at you and talks about you. Her problem is always needing to prove she's the smartest. Did you ever consider that maybe you pushed her into this? She told me about the argument you two

had before she decided to prove she could have an affair without getting caught." I took a deep breath and responded, "Yes, Mona, I have thought about my role in all of this. I told her once that if she'd met him but hadn't slept with him, I might have been able to forgive it, but she did sleep with him. We both admitted to being cheaters before we got married, and she was the one who insisted on including infidelity clauses in our prenup, and then she did this. It breaks my heart, but I can't just move past

it." The divorce was finalized, and I felt relieved that we had a prenup. We divided our investments and the house, which I kept by allowing Vicki to take her share from our investments. My business was safeguarded as it was family-registered, so Vicki received nothing from it. Despite everything, I remained civil to Vicki and never restricted her access to the kids, though the trust between us was irreparably broken. One evening, I took the kids out to dinner when I noticed Jasmine walking in, looking hesitant. The hostess approached her, and I stood up to meet them. "Jasmine,

great to see you!" I said with a smile. If you're alone, why not join us? It's just me and the kids. She smiled, a hint of relief on her face, and hugged me, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, I'd love to. It's been a bit lonely since I introduced her to my children," and shortly after, my father came over with a curious look. "Don, who's this lovely lady?" he asked. "Dad, this is Jasmine Sloan. Her husband's family used to visit when I was a kid," I replied. Mr. Patterson's face brightened with

recognition. "Ah, I remember now. You look so much like your mother. How are your parents doing?" "They're doing well. Dad moved to Kansas City after the divorce, and I visit Mom a couple of times a month," Jasmine said. "Good to hear," my father said warmly. "Hope to see you around more often." After ordering, I apologized for not staying in touch. "Summer is my busiest time, but that's just an excuse. I'm sorry." "Don't worry," Jasmine said. "I didn't call either. I'm here to celebrate. Steve finally agreed to the divorce. We sold the house and split everything,

though he fought child support since he didn't want me working. I won! I'm renting a small place for now, but once I get a job, I'll find better." The kids grew restless, and Jasmine and I ordered another bottle of wine. Eventually, I said, "I should get these kids home before they get us kicked out. It's been great talking. Maybe we can do this again?" "I'd like that," Jasmine said with a smile. The waitress informed us the bill was already paid. "That old man!" I laughed. "He's trying to set us up." I left a tip, stood

up, and said, "Kids, say good night to your grandparents." I helped Jasmine up and offered my hand. "May I escort you to your car?" "Of course," she said, taking my hand. As we waited, I said, "I don't want this night to end. Before you came, I was just looking forward to relaxing by the pool with the kids." Jasmine smiled and replied, "Me too, except I don't have a pool or kids." "It's still early," I said, glancing at her. "Would you like to come by after I put them to bed?" She nodded with a warm smile.

"I'd love that." Later, once the kids were asleep, I stocked the mini-fridge by the pool with drinks and settled down with a Pepsi. Jasmine joined me and took one for herself. I gazed at the pool, exhaled deeply, and turned to her. "You know, I think your mom might have had a role in my divorce." "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I was just wondering." Jasmine sat looking at me in shock, with what seemed like a tear forming in her eye. I struggled to get up from my chair and sat on the edge of hers.

I wiped the tear from her eye and said, "Let me tell you how foolish I was. When I was 16, I had only been working at the restaurant for a few weeks when your mother came in with a man I didn't recognize. They had dinner and then went to the bar to drink and dance. I always thought your mom was the most beautiful woman in the world until I met you. Anyway, I couldn't stop staring at her. My father not only caught me staring but also overheard me saying that I would tell my friends about

what I saw at school on Monday." I paused. "Ugh, I still remember the reprimand and lecture I got that night in his office. That talk shaped my thoughts on marital fidelity to this day. You know that later, when Vicki started working with us, she got the same lecture. We often shared stories about what we witnessed at the restaurant and thought we were on the same page with my father's views. Maybe I was too strict about fidelity for my own good. That night with your mother set me on the rigid path I followed throughout this case.

I'm sorry, and before you ask, no, none of my family or staff ever told anyone about your mother. I don't know who did, but your parents didn't divorce until almost a year later, as far as I know. That was the only time she and her companion were at the restaurant." Jasmine looked at me and said, "Well, maybe some good came from all this, or maybe not, depending on how you see it. She married that man, and they stayed together until he died in a car accident a few years ago. I think she may have cheated

on him too. I've always heard that once a cheater, always a cheater." Once I was sure Jasmine had calmed down, I returned to my chair and we moved on to lighter topics. I found out she had a degree in accounting and had worked in the field for some time. I smiled, remembering how my mother used to complain about wanting more rest but couldn't, as she managed the books for the bar and restaurant and supervised the wait staff. I thought hiring a nanny for Laura might be a good idea. The following Wednesday, I had just come

home from work and was drinking a glass of water when I heard a knock at the door. I opened it and was surprised when Jasmine, crying, threw herself into my arms and tried to kiss me through her tears. "She said, 'Thank you, oh thank you! Your parents called and offered me a job. I went for an interview and test, and they hired me. I start tomorrow, and they're paying me more than I expected.'" She began crying again, and I held her close, stroking her hair. Over the next few months, Jasmine and I grew even closer.

I started taking the kids out. To dinner several nights a week, and timed our visits so Jasmine could join us when she was free. When Christmas arrived, Jasmine was invited to dinner at the Pattersons. Together, we helped prepare the New Year's party at the bar. My father and siblings jokingly complained about how we were always hugging and kissing when they looked for us; by then, we were an established couple, and invitations to one of us naturally included the other. Valentine's Day came, which was another big night for the restaurant and bar, so Jasmine and I

were working after most of the customers had left. I walked into the dining area and said, “Jasmine, could you come to the bar for a moment? The band is on a break, and I need help with something on stage.” Jasmine smiled, “Sure, I needed a break anyway.” Once on stage, I asked her to hold the microphone stand as I knelt down. I tugged on its base and said, “Hey, can we get a light over here?” Jasmine glanced around for a light source, and one of the spotlights shone on us. I said, “Jasmine,” the microphone picked

up my voice and echoed through the room. Jasmine looked down and saw me holding out a small black box. At first, she thought it was part of the mic stand; the bright light made it hard to see, so she reached for it, confused. I spoke again, “Jasmine, I'm down here at your feet asking you, will you marry me? You brought light back into my life, and I'm only happy when I'm with you.” As her fingers touched the box, she realized what I was saying. She opened it and found a beautiful ring inside. Her jaw dropped,

and she covered her mouth with her hand. Slowly, she took the ring from the box, tears streaming down her cheeks. She knelt and kissed me deeply. “Yes,” she whispered, “oh yes! I love you with all my heart. I've been hoping for this moment for months.” The room erupted with cheers and applause. When Jasmine pulled away, she saw my entire family gathered around. My brother lifted her up and hugged her, and she was passed from person to person receiving hugs and congratulations. Jasmine planned the wedding for June. Over the months, she gradually moved her things from

her small apartment into my house. At the post-wedding reception, we opened our gifts. At the bottom of the pile was a single yellowed envelope. Inside was an old heart-shaped Valentine, with the original signature erased. On the Valentine were written the words: “I received this Valentine from the only man I've ever loved on our first Valentine's Day. I kept it safe all these years. It feels right to pass it on to you now as a symbol of my heart moving from me to you. May your life be filled with love and care for one another. May

you never break each other's hearts or let pride come between you. Congratulations, wishing you both a lifetime of happiness. With all my love, Victoria.” [Music] [Applause] [Music] [Applause] [Music]