The morning Jack stayed home sick, I didn’t expect a life-sized statue of him on our porch. He turned pale, dragged it inside, and refused to explain. Beneath it, a note shattered everything I thought I knew. Jack never took sick days—not for the flu, not for injuries, not even for loss.

After hustling the kids out the door, Noah handed me a crumpled piece of paper. “Jack, I’m returning the statue I made while believing you loved me. Finding out you’ve been married nearly ten years destroyed me. You owe me $10,000—or your wife sees every message. This is your only warning. —Sally.” My stomach twisted. Jack had been having an affair.

I spent the day strategizing how to gather proof. Social media, emails, forums—I was determined. But when I came into the kitchen, Jack had passed out at the table with his laptop open. The evidence stared back at me: emails pleading with Sally not to reveal him, confessions of love, and promises to pay for the statue.

I photographed everything and contacted Sally. She revealed she didn’t know Jack was married and confirmed their relationship. When I asked if she’d testify, she agreed. My resolve hardened.

One month later, in court, Sally’s testimony and screenshots provided undeniable proof. The judge awarded me the house, full custody of the kids, and ordered Jack to pay Sally for the sculpture. Jack didn’t look at me once.

Outside the courthouse, Patricia squeezed my shoulder. Jack tried to speak, but I stopped him. “Your visitation schedule is in the paperwork. Don’t be late picking up the kids on Friday.” I left him there, alone with his regrets.