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.

Walter looked at the floor.

“Because she doesn’t trust me anymore.”

I laughed bitterly.

“She shouldn’t.”

Then another thought hit.

“What is she planning?”

“I don’t know.”

“Walter.”

“She asked for copies of everything.”

“Everything what?”

“The loan.”

“The forged documents.”

“Emails.”

“She told me she was giving me until Friday to tell Samuel myself.”

Today was Thursday.

My stomach dropped.

Chloe was not cheating.

She had been meeting a lawyer.

She was preparing to expose Walter.

And I had broken into her apartment planning to humiliate her.

I felt sick.

I sat down.

For the first time that afternoon, anger turned toward me.

I had been wrong.

Not slightly.

Completely.

Walter stood.

“Margaret.”

I looked at him.

“Leave.”

“What?”

“Get out.”

“Where are you going?”

“To wait for Chloe.”

His face went pale.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“She will tell Samuel.”

“Good.”

“Margaret.”

I pointed toward the door.

“Go.”

He did not move.

So I called Samuel.

Walter lunged.

I stepped back.

Samuel answered.

“Mom?”

My voice shook.

“Samuel.”

“What happened?”

“I need you to come home.”

Pause.

“Why?”

“I can’t explain on the phone.”

“Mom, I’m in a meeting.”

“Leave it.”

He went quiet.

“Are you okay?”

I looked at Walter.

“No.”