My life fell apart after my husband, Charles, d.i.e.d in a terrible work accident.
I stumbled through life for three years, holding it together for my six-year-old daughter, Maggie.
She was my everything.
Then Jacob came along.
He had a pleasant smile that made you feel protected as if everything would be fine. He was patient and compassionate, but most importantly, he adored Maggie.
And I did. I let Jacob in, and we quickly developed a relationship.
Two months ago, Jacob and I married on a little farm with a duck pond.
As I tucked Maggie into bed one evening, she gripped her favorite rabbit closely and stared at me with those huge brown eyes.
“Mommy?” she said hesitantly.
“New Dad asked me to keep a secret from you. Is that okay?”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. My stomach turned violently.
She fidgeted and bit her lip.
“New Dad said I shouldn’t tell you… but yesterday, when you were at work, I woke up early from my nap and went looking for him. He promised me that we could play on the PlayStation. I couldn’t find him anywhere.”
“I called for him, but he didn’t answer,” she continued, glancing at me nervously. “Then I saw him and a pretty lady in a red dress come out of the basement. He told me not to tell you.”
“She had long blonde hair, like a princess. And a red dress. She smelled nice, too.”
The basement?
Why would he take a woman down there?
Later that night, while Jacob was scrolling through his phone on the couch, I confronted him.
“Maggie told me there was a woman here yesterday,” I said, arms crossed. “She said you took her to the basement. Care to explain?”
“She’s an interior designer. I wanted to surprise you by fixing up the basement. It’s been a mess for years.”
He walked me to the basement and turned on the lights. Surprisingly, the dingy interior had been restored with painted walls, fresh furnishings, and soft lighting.
But something didn’t seem right.
Why had he kept it so secretive? And something about Maggie’s depiction of the woman bothered me.
That night, while Jacob was sleeping, I checked his social media.
Then I saw it.
A photo was taken two years ago, before we met. It showed Jacob smiling broadly, his arm wrapped around a woman with long blond hair and a crimson outfit.
The next morning, I showed Maggie the image.
“Is this her?” I asked, my voice tight.
“Yes, Mommy. That’s her.”
When Jacob went to work, I grabbed the concealed cameras I’d planted in the garage and porch following my husband’s d.e.a.t.h and placed them in the basement and living room.
Later, I informed Jacob that I had a last-minute work travel for a few days.
Later that day, I took Maggie to my mother and explained what was going on.
I spent the night camped out in a nearby hotel room. I sat on the bed, eating ice cream and watching the camera feed obsessively. But as the hours passed, nothing happened. Jacob sat in front of the television, drinking milk from the carton, munching chocolate-covered pretzels, and simply… being.
As I sat by the window eating breakfast the next morning, my paranoia felt overwhelming and foolish. I went to bed believing that I was simply being ridiculous.
Until a notification buzzed:
Jacob stood in the basement, kissing the woman in red. I watched as she murmured something into his ear, and they chuckled.
He was ch.e.a.ting.
In my home.
I dashed back to the house, pulling into the driveway just as Jacob was leading her to her car. When he spotted me, he grimaced.
Jacob froze, his mouth expanding and closing. The woman rolled her eyes and turned towards him.
“Get out,” I demanded. “Both of you. Get out now.”
The woman stormed away, slamming the car door. Jacob attempted to apologize, but I pointed to the street.
The next day, I packed up all of Jacob’s belongings and placed them in bin bags. Then I traveled to my mother’s place, excited to see my little girl.
I bundled Maggie into the car and drove her to get ice cream. As she delved into her sundae, I leaned over.
“You did the right thing by telling me the truth, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”
I looked at Maggie and realized that I didn’t need him. I had her, my home, and the determination to keep going.
