I put laxatives in my husband’s coffee before he left to see his mistress

Melissa looked at the folder.

“You.”

I stared at her.

“He said you had probably found out.”

“Found out about you?”

“About everything.”

Everything.

That word mattered.

“What does everything mean?”

Melissa crossed her arms.

Suddenly she looked less like the glamorous mistress from Brad’s messages and more like a frightened woman realizing she might have trusted the wrong liar too.

“He told me you two were already separating.”

“We weren’t.”

“He said you knew about us.”

“I didn’t.”

Her face changed.

“He said the house was basically his because you hadn’t contributed financially in years.”

That one almost made me laugh.

I had left my corporate accounting job after Sophie was born, then built a bookkeeping business from home.

For the last four years, my income had paid the mortgage while Brad’s salary covered most other household expenses.

“Did he tell you I paid the mortgage?”

Melissa said nothing.

“Did he tell you my father gave us eighty thousand dollars for the down payment?”

Nothing.

“Did he tell you the house deed is in both our names?”

Her lips parted.

“He said you were on it for convenience.”

I almost admired Brad’s efficiency.

He hadn’t merely lied to me.

He had apparently created different versions of reality for everyone involved.

Then I heard sirens.

Melissa looked toward the window.

My heart jumped.

“What happened?”

“I called them.”

“When?”