My Wife Of 26 Years Framed Me To Die In Prison. I Found Her Secret Stash In Our Basement And Realized She’s Working With A Serial Conman. Now, I’m Planning A Date Night She’ll Never Forget. How Should I Execute My Revenge?
“Enough to know the formula. Find a successful guy, seduce his wife, find his weakness—usually the kids. Apply pressure, plant evidence, watch him fall, then move to the next city and start over.”
“What if someone catches you?”
Damian laughed again. That same cold laugh.
“They won’t. Mitchell’s daughter tried for years. Found nothing. And even if they do, I’m gone. I’ve got accounts in the Caymans, passports under three names. I’m untouchable.”
I shut the laptop, looked at Marlo.
“He’s done this before,”
I said. Not a question, just stating it.
“Multiple times. And he’ll keep doing it.”
“I know, Marlo.”
I leaned forward.
“Will you testify in court? On record? Against him? Against your mother?”
She closed her eyes. Tears ran down her face.
“If I testify,”
She said slowly.
“The bar finds out about the 85,000. I lose my license. I probably go to prison.”
“If you don’t,”
I said.
“I go to prison. And Damian does this to another family. Another daughter.”
Silence. Long silence.
Then she opened her eyes.
“Okay.”
Barely a whisper.
“I’ll do it.”
I reached across the table, took her hand.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Dad.”
Her voice broke.
“This is my fault. If I hadn’t stolen that money…”
I squeezed her hand.
“This is what he does. But we’re stopping him. Together.”
My phone rang. Silas.
I answered.
“Yeah, Graham?”
His voice was tight, urgent.
“Damian just booked a flight. Cayman Islands. Leaves February 11th.”
My stomach dropped.
“Three days,”
I said.
“I do… three days. If he gets on that plane, we’ll never see him again. He’s got money there, properties, connections. He disappears and we lose everything.”
I looked at Marlo. She was watching me, waiting.
“Then we don’t give him three days,”
I said.
“What… how fast can you and Vernon get here?”
“20 minutes.”
“Do it. And call Sloan Mitchell. Tell her it’s happening tonight.”
Pause.
“Graham, what are you planning?”
I looked at the USB drive, at the emails, at the recordings that proved everything.
“We’re exposing him,”
I said.
“Publicly. Before he can run.”
“How?”
“I’ll figure it out. Just get here.”
I hung up. Marlo stared at me.
“What are we doing?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I stood up, started pacing.
“But we have three days before he disappears forever. Three days to make sure everyone knows what he is. What he’s done. The police… the police will take weeks, months. He’ll be gone by then.”
I turned to her.
“We need to do this differently. Make it so public, so undeniable, that he can’t run. Can’t hide. Can’t spin it.”
“And how?”
I thought about the live stream culture. The viral videos.
The way information spreads now. Fast, unstoppable.
Impossible to contain once it’s out there.
“We tell everyone,”
I said.
“Everyone at once. Before he knows what’s happening.”
Marlo’s eyes widened.
“You mean… like online?”
“Yeah. Live stream, social media, whatever it takes. We show the evidence. We show the emails. We let the world see exactly who Damian Cross is.”
She hesitated.
“That’s risky. I don’t…”
“Everything’s risky now.”
I sat back down across from her.
“But if we wait, he wins. If we go through official channels, he wins. This is the only way.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
