I went to my son’s apartment with a duplicate key, convinced I was going to catch my daughter-in-law with another man. “Today this lie ends,” I thought before opening the bedroom door. But the woman inside wasn’t her: beside a bottle of champagne, I found my own husband after 32 years of marriage… and what I heard next was even worse.

He hesitated.

“There are guarantees.”

“Whose?”

His silence told me.

Samuel.

I felt sick.

“You forged his signature.”

Walter immediately said,

“No.”

I stared.

“Then Samuel signed?”

“No.”

“Then how is his signature on a guarantee?”

Walter looked down.

I whispered,

“Oh my God.”

He had forged it.

My husband had used our son’s identity.

The affair suddenly felt almost small.

I walked to the dresser.

I grabbed Walter’s phone.

He moved.

“Margaret.”

I held it behind me.

“Password.”

“No.”

“Password.”

“You’re making this worse.”

I laughed.

“You brought a mistress into our son’s bed after forging his name on business debt.”

“What exactly am I making worse?”

He stared.

I knew his code anyway.

Samuel’s birthday.

Of course.

I unlocked the phone.

Walter stepped toward me.