My Husband Of 20 Years Invited His Mistress To Our Anniversary Dinner. He Doesn’t Know I Sent The Invite From His Phone. Should I Serve Revenge For The Main Course?

“Sarah, you can’t. She doesn’t know… you know. She thinks I’m going to tell you about us eventually. This is crazy.”

“Crazy?” I picked up a wine glass from the counter, examining it in the light.

“What’s crazy is my husband of 20 years having an affair with a woman half his age. What’s crazy is planning to bring her to our anniversary dinner without me knowing.”

I gestured at the phone.

“This is just good planning.”

The next three days were the longest of my life. David tried everything: begging, apologizing, and explaining.

Apparently, Amanda was 28, worked in marketing for a tech startup, and they’d met at a networking event six months ago. She was young and exciting; she made him feel like himself again.

She didn’t nag him about leaving his socks on the floor. I listened to all of it with the same calm smile.

And I planned. I called our lawyer friend Susan; we had a very interesting conversation about asset division and Maryland divorce law.

I called our financial adviser; we had another interesting conversation about separating accounts and protecting my retirement. I called my sister in Chicago.

We had a long, therapeutic conversation that ended with her saying, “I always knew David was a piece of work, but this? Oh, honey, burn him to the ground.”

I wasn’t planning to burn him. I was planning something much more elegant.

The Night of the Red Dress

Saturday arrived. David was a nervous wreck.

He tried canceling the dinner, claiming sudden food poisoning. I’d smiled and told him we had a guest coming and it would be rude to cancel now.

He tried to come clean to Amanda via text. I’d taken his phone away and told him if he wanted to warn her, he’d have to call from a phone I didn’t control.

He didn’t. At 5:30, I was in our bedroom putting on my best black dress—the one that made me look 10 years younger.

I did my makeup carefully, hair perfect, jewelry subtle but expensive. David knocked on the bedroom door.

“Sarah, please don’t do this. We can talk, just you and me. We can work this out.”

I opened the door. He looked at me, and for a moment, I saw something like regret in his eyes, or maybe it was just fear.

“Oh, we will work this out, David. Tonight. All three of us.”

The doorbell rang at exactly 6:00. I could see Amanda through the frosted glass of our front door.

She was young, pretty, and wearing a red dress that was far too tight for a dinner at her boyfriend’s house. But then again, she didn’t know it was her boyfriend’s house, did she?

David stood frozen in the hallway. I patted his shoulder as I walked past.

“Relax, honey. It’s just dinner.”

I opened the door with my warmest smile.

“Amanda! How wonderful to finally meet you. Please, come in.”

She was even younger up close: sweet face, bright smile, completely oblivious.

“Mrs. Morrison! David’s told me so much about you. Thank you so much for inviting me.”

“He said you wanted to meet some of his professional contacts and I just think that’s so lovely.”

I glanced at David. He was pale, gripping the back of a dining chair like it was a life raft.

So he’d lied to her about tonight, too. Interesting.

“Oh, David talks about you all the time,” I said, ushering her in.

“Please, call me Sarah. Can I get you something to drink? Wine, water, something stronger?”

“Wine would be lovely, thank you.”

I poured three glasses of our best Cabernet, the bottle David had been saving for a special occasion. Well, this was certainly special.

We settled in the living room. Amanda perched on the edge of the sofa, all nervous energy and excitement.

David sat as far from both of us as possible. He looked like a man facing a firing squad.

Unmasking the Mentor

I took the armchair between them, crossing my legs elegantly.

“So, Amanda,” I began, swirling my wine.

“How long have you known my husband?”

“Oh, about six months now. We met at the Tech Innovation Summit back in March.”

She smiled at David, who looked like he wanted to disappear into the carpet.

“He was giving a presentation on investment strategies and I was so impressed. We got to talking afterward and we just clicked, you know?”

“I bet you did.” I took a sip of wine.

“And you work in marketing?”

“Yes, for a startup downtown. It’s exciting but stressful. David’s been such a great mentor. He’s helped me so much with professional development.”

“Professional development,” I repeated the words slowly, tasting them.

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

Her smile faltered.

“I’m sorry?”

I set down my wine glass.

“Amanda, honey, let me ask you something. When David invited you here tonight, what exactly did he tell you this dinner was about?”

She glanced at David uncertainly.

“He said… you wanted to meet some of the people he works with. That you were interested in expanding your social circle after retiring last year.”

“Interesting.”

I pulled out my phone and opened it to David’s text conversation with her.

“Because these messages tell a very different story.”

I watched the color drain from her face as she read. I watched her eyes get wider and wider, watched the exact moment she realized what was happening.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

“Oh my God. You’re… you knew?”

“That my husband’s been sleeping with you? Oh, yes, dear. I’ve known since Tuesday.”

I took another sip of wine.

“When I saw your text about wearing the red dress to our 20th wedding anniversary dinner.”

She stood up so fast she nearly knocked over her wine.

“I didn’t… he said you were separated! He said you were getting divorced! He said you hadn’t been intimate in years, that you were just waiting for the paperwork!”

“Amanda,” my voice cut through her panic like a knife.

“Does this house look like we’re separated? Do I look like a woman whose husband is leaving her?”

Tears started streaming down her face.