At the high-end Ritz-Carlton Hotel, two people were carried out on stretchers, like conjoined twins, unable to part even as they were lifted into the ambulance. And all of it was my doing. I casually called Andy as he was struggling to contain his pain. “Babe, I’m in a meeting right now,” he groaned. I gently reminded him, “Since you two love each other so much, why not stay together forever?” The first sign of trouble came while I was away on a business trip to South Beach, Miami. Andy had posted a photo on his Instagram Stories. His caption read: “Clear skies, gentle breeze, the waters in Hawaii are especially blue today.” While I was working, he was on his dream vacation, spending his days in Hawaii. In the picture, he was with a group of friends and coworkers. The photo looked innocent enough, but something about it stood out to me. He had been wearing the swim trunks I bought him, but in this photo, they were mysteriously replaced with a new pair. After some digging, I noticed another photo he had posted five days prior—this time, a picture of his meal. And in the corner, the edge of a woman’s bikini was visible. It was the same swimwear—held together with a safety pin because it didn’t quite fit. What kind of flirtatious code was this? To confirm my suspicions, I asked Andy about it when he got home. He didn’t stutter or hesitate; he had a story ready. “Babe, I’ve got a funny one for you. Remember those trunks you got me? Well, while I was swimming, I guess I didn’t tie them tight enough, and they got washed away!” He slapped his thigh and laughed like he was telling a joke. He always did that when he wanted to lighten the mood. “I almost flashed the whole beach! Had to run and buy a new pair.” I watched him perform this act, completely detached, on our fifth wedding anniversary—a date he had completely forgotten. I didn’t even bother playing along with his charade. When he realized I wasn’t laughing, he slung his arm around my shoulder. “Cassie, I’ll take better care of the stuff you buy me. Don’t be mad, okay?” He puckered his lips at me, something I used to find cute back when we were dating. But now, staring at Andy’s greasy face, regret flooded me. When he was chasing me, he had been the least attractive of all my suitors, but I’d chosen him because he seemed kind and grounded, with a career as solid as mine. I thought picking someone less conventionally handsome would mean he’d stay loyal and committed. Turns out, a man’s flaws don’t depend on his looks. Later that afternoon, I got called into work for a night shift. I went down to the garage to get the car. Andy and I had our own vehicles, but mine was in for maintenance, so I took his. My instincts kicked in the moment I sat in the driver’s seat. The passenger seat had been reclined, pushed back about 15 degrees more than usual. Someone else had been in our car. We bought this SUV when we were preparing to start a family, thinking it would be perfect for the baby. The air inside still had a faint, fishy odor, hinting at something inappropriate that had happened in that seat. Scanning the seat closely, I noticed a piece of black fabric wedged in the gap by the armrest. I pulled it out—lace, delicate, and suspiciously sexy. I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. How thoughtful of them. I pocketed the evidence without confronting him. A few days later, I found another bikini stuffed in the same spot. This time, though, something was different. The faint smell of perfume lingered on the fabric. I recognized it immediately—it was a summer scent from a designer perfume brand I’d tried while window shopping at the mall. This clue led me to question several suspects—his female coworkers and old friends. Eventually, I realized it was Payne Dalton, his goddaughter, who wore the same scent. When I saw her, she clung to my arm like always, her voice sweet as ever. “Godmother Cassie, did you miss me? I’m job hunting right now. We should grab lunch sometime soon!” I finally noticed how much she’d grown since I first met her. The once-skinny high school girl had blossomed into a tall, curvy woman. I’d heard she’d even had a breast augmentation done earlier this year. The bikini I’d found was exactly her size. Payne was a scholarship student Andy and I had supported for four years, helping her through college. She had always seemed like the perfect student—smart, charming, and determined to make something of herself. Was she really that naive? Despite all her education, did she still believe that money was the only way to “make it” in life?
I smiled as I teased her. “Wow, Payne, you’re looking amazing! The collagen supplements are really doing their job. You’re a real stunner now.” She blushed, playfully pushing my shoulder. “Oh, Godmother Cassie, you’re terrible!” A sly grin flashed across her lips as she responded with pride, “Yeah, those supplements really work! Starlet-worthy, don’t you think?” I nodded. She had the body men fawn over—the kind actresses on TV often flaunt. Compared to her, all my years of Pilates felt like nothing. “Let’s catch up over lunch sometime,” I suggested. “Absolutely!” she chirped, clearly excited. She showered me with compliments about my taste in fashion, admiring my clothes and bags. That’s when I noticed the sparkling Harry Winston ring on her finger and the luxury brands she was sporting. Seems like she’d been doing quite well for herself lately. “Godmother, you’re just getting more elegant with age. I bet Mr. Donovan loves you even more now. That’s the charm of a mature woman!” Payne, the business major, was clearly a master of flattery. Her words were smooth and well-rehearsed. Back home, I calmly threw out everything from Andy’s car and replaced it with fresh items. Coincidentally, Andy came home late, claiming he had to work overtime. When he saw the dinner I had prepared, he hugged me, grinning. “Cassie, you’re amazing. Thank you.” His suit was spotless, and he had masked any suspicious odors with gum and cologne. Honestly, I wanted to snap and ask, “Showered yet? Gotten rid of the stench?” But I held back. Years of working in corporate America had taught me the art of restraint. I smiled and said, “Your package from the office is on the desk.” “Thanks, hon.” Later that night, he tried initiating intimacy. I pretended to be into it but could tell his enthusiasm was lacking. Of course, after sneaking around, there wasn’t much left for me. I told him I was tired and skipped it, scrolling through my phone instead. He leaned in with a grin. “Want to rest your head on my shoulder?” I stayed quiet, thinking to myself: I don’t want to lay my head where another woman’s legs have been. “Oh, by the way,” I said, testing him, “I ran into Payne today. She wants to have lunch with us.” “She’s really grown up, hasn’t she?” Andy froze for a moment but quickly regained composure. “Yeah, I haven’t seen her in a while either.” I closed my eyes. Let’s see how long this act can last. The next day, I took the afternoon off, and Andy and I met Payne at a Texas BBQ Joint for lunch. Payne showed up in a black, low-cut dress, her figure as striking as ever, contrasting sharply with the dark fabric, making her look even more stunning. When we were ordering, Andy casually said, “Waiter, we’ll have the mild and spicy BBQ platter. Light on the spice for her, please.” I caught the shift in his tone as Payne jumped in to explain, “Godmother Cassie, don’t misunderstand! I told Mr. Donovan I’m on my period.” She smiled innocently, but her body language was anything but. Her necklace dipped suggestively between her breasts, the picture of temptation. Andy, finally catching on to my expression, added quickly, “Yeah, Cassie, we shouldn’t go too spicy. Your stomach can’t handle it.” Love or indifference—it’s easy to spot the difference in the little things. That night, I pretended to get drunk. In truth, I poured most of the drinks into the trash. Andy, thinking I was too tipsy to function, draped his jacket over me and escorted me up to a room at the hotel. I lay awake all night, the faint scent of perfume on his jacket reminding me that he didn’t love me anymore. The next morning, I lied about losing something in the car, asking the property manager to pull up the parking garage footage. Sure enough, they had left together that morning. Not only had they defiled my car, but they had taken their affair right into our home. Without the security footage, I might have continued to believe Payne’s sweet demeanor and Andy’s deceitful charm.
I hired a private investigator to dig deeper into Payne’s life. After Andy and I got married, we kept our finances separate. He had no idea how much money I had saved up. Over the years, I’d made a good amount through smart investments—money I originally planned to use for a house in the best school district once we had kids. Now, that seemed unnecessary. A few days later, the investigator reported back: “She’s notorious at Stanford. People say she’s always out with different guys.” No wonder Payne could afford designer perfume and all those luxury items without even having a job yet. “She was kicked out in her junior year for misconduct. Apparently, she tried to seduce the vice principal, but it didn’t work.” “And her grades? She’s barely passing—almost got expelled.” Hearing this broke my heart. I remembered when we first decided to sponsor her. She had been this small, frail girl with yellowed hair, but her eyes shone with determination. She used to tell me that studying hard would change her life. She used to call me “Godmother Cassie” and twirled with joy the first time she wore a new dress I bought her. And now? She’d seen the world and decided that sleeping her way to the top was the faster route. I heard she’s working as a model now, trying to break into Hollywood. No wonder she’s had so much work done. Suddenly, it all clicked. Andy’s connections to the entertainment industry… She was probably using him as her ticket to bigger fish. After all, a girl like her wouldn’t hesitate to drop Andy the moment someone richer came along. Aside from this, the private investigator handed me Andy’s financial records. Our finances were separate, so he had no clue how much I really had. I managed my money through investments and had done pretty well for myself, originally planning to use it for a future home in a private school district once we started a family. But that no longer seemed necessary. The investigator showed me that Andy’s earnings were mostly from his salary and some stock market investments. But it was all clearly outlined in his Instagram transaction history—he had spent close to $100,000 on Payne! How long had they been sneaking around? I asked the investigator for something specific: a small recording device I could install in Andy’s car. He hesitated, reminding me that wiretapping was illegal and wouldn’t hold up in court. I told him I understood. I didn’t need it for legal reasons. I just needed to know how heartless they really were. After a moment, he nodded, handed me the equipment, and I paid him in full. A few days later, I left home for another “business trip.” As expected, they couldn’t resist using our SUV. “Daddy… can I have a hug?” The voice in my earphones was sultry, designed to melt any man’s resistance. “Did you miss me, sweetheart?” Andy chuckled in response. His usual polished, mature tone was nowhere to be found. “I did! You’re so bad.” Then, the unmistakable sound of the seat creaking under pressure. I clenched my fists, a bitter smirk creeping across my lips. These two were beyond shameless. Without hesitation, I called Andy’s phone. He ignored the first few calls. But as I kept calling, the urgency forced him to answer. “Hello? Hey, Cassie… I’m, uh, in a meeting,” he stammered. His voice was trying hard to sound calm and collected, but I heard the zipper of his pants sliding and his heavy, labored breathing. At thirty years old, I wasn’t exactly ancient. I’d taken good care of myself and didn’t look my age. People often remarked on how youthful I seemed. Andy, on the other hand, was an average-looking man whose career was no longer on par with mine. Our friends and family used to joke about our relationship, calling it a “beauty and the beast” situation. But let me tell you, there are plenty of men out there—more than enough to replace him. I laughed to myself and thought, If you love being naked so much, let me help you make that permanent.
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