A Stranger Warned Me Not To Go Home. I Found A Strange Silk Scarf In My Hallway. How Do I Catch My Husband Red-handed

The Confrontation

In the morning, she was awakened by the vibration of her phone. A message from Nicholas: “I spoke with my daughter last night. She’s in shock. She has blocked all contact with Greg. Thank you for the warning. I need to meet with you again. Can you meet today at noon?”

At 1:00 p.m., Valerie was sitting in the cafe again. Nicholas looked tired; his face was tense.

“Difficult. At first, Angela didn’t believe it. She shouted that I was lying, that I had faked the photographs. Then I gave her back the scarf and showed her the video of your family dinner.”

“And then she cried. She confessed that he had promised her a divorce. He told her he had filed the papers two months ago.”

“A classic scheme. Painfully cliche,” Valerie clutched her cup.

“He lied to her from the very beginning,” Nicholas continued. “Angela thought it was temporary, while the divorce was pending. Greg convinced her not to tell me anything, like ‘Your father won’t understand until I’m officially divorced.'”

“I’ve made a decision,” Nicholas looked at Valerie seriously. “I’m dissolving the partnership with Greg.”

On Wednesday evening, Greg came home pale. He dropped his briefcase in the entryway, went to the kitchen, and poured himself a whiskey.

“Nicholas wants to dissolve the partnership,” he said in a hollow voice. “He’s proposing to split everything in half: assets, clients, trucks. I’ll be left with nothing. Half a company isn’t a company; it’s starting from scratch.”

On Friday evening, as the whole family sat down to dinner, Valerie finally said what she had been preparing all week.

“Greg, we need to talk. Seriously.”

“Maybe I should go,” Chris asked quietly.

“Go to your room, son. We’ll call you when we’re done.”

Greg and Valerie were left alone.

“I’ve filed for divorce,” she said calmly. “You’ll receive a court summon in a few days.”

Greg turned pale. “What? Why? For what reason?”

She took out her phone, opened a photograph—Greg with Angela in the car, the kiss—and placed the phone on the table in front of him.

Greg froze. His face contorted: fear, shock, panic. “This… This isn’t what you think.”

“Don’t bother,” Valerie stopped him. “I have proof that you cheated on me for 4 months with your partner’s daughter. Nicholas knows. Angela knows.”

Greg covered his face with his hands. “I can explain everything.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. I’ve filed for divorce. I want the apartment and Chris to stay with me. The lake house and your share of the business—you can take them.”

She got up from the table, took her phone, and left the kitchen, leaving Greg alone with his lie, which had finally caught up with him.

The Aftermath

Greg slept on the couch in the living room; she slept in the bedroom.

On Monday, Greg received the official court summons. He read it over breakfast, turned pale, and left the apartment, slamming the door.

“Mom, are you guys getting a divorce?” Chris asked quietly.

“Yes, son, we are.”

“Why?”

“Because Dad acted dishonestly. He deceived us; he betrayed our trust.”

“I want to stay with you,” the boy nodded, wiping away the tears. “You were always there. Dad was busy.”

On Thursday evening, Greg was waiting for her at the door. He looked terrible: unshaven, with red eyes, haggard.

“Valerie, please. Give me 5 minutes. Just listen. I’m not asking for forgiveness; I just want to explain.”

“Talk. 5 minutes. I’m timing you.”

“I don’t know how it happened. She was so young, interesting, full of life. I felt younger around her. She admired me, hung on my every word… I got carried away.”

“And you made up the story about the divorce?”

“I thought… I thought I really wanted a divorce, that things between us were over a long time ago.”

“Valerie, please don’t destroy our family. I broke up with Angela. I’ll never see her again.”

“You already lost it the moment you brought your mistress into our home,” Valerie said coldly. “Your 5 minutes are up. Go pack your things. I want you moved out by tomorrow. You can live at the lake house.”

An hour later, he came out with two large bags and a backpack. “I’m truly sorry. And I really do love you. Forgive me.”

She didn’t answer. The door closed quietly. Valerie looked down from the window. Greg drove away; the red tail lights of his car dissolved into the stream of traffic. It was over. He didn’t live here anymore.