I attempted to dismiss the nagging suspicion that my husband might be cheating on me. We had a wonderful life together, but in the end, he was willing to stab me in the back. He had no idea I was already a few steps ahead. I am Patricia, 35 years old, and until recently, I felt I had a good understanding of who I was and the life I was living with my husband, Joseph, 40.

But recently, I’ve noticed a few changes in my husband’s conduct that lead me to assume he’s cheating. He’s merely been a little more discreet when texting or taking phone calls. Whenever we sit together, his phone is always facing down. He’s also been arriving home late and going on too many work trips or staying late at work. When he came home from one of his long nights at work, I pretended to sleep as he attempted to sneak into the house.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed his shirt was unbuttoned; he may have unbuttoned it to get comfortable after work, but it’s unusual for him to have it completely open with only his vest showing. He typically showers in the morning, but this evening he went directly to the shower, leaving his clothes in the laundry basket. When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I did was smell the garments and look for any clues.

His garment had a pleasant, feminine aroma and a little trace of crimson lipstick. Every day, it seemed like I was getting closer to the truth while still being so far away. But I wanted to get to the bottom of this because cheating was the last thing I was willing to accept in marriage. I have always valued clarity and strategy, which is why I insisted on a prenuptial agreement before marrying Joseph. It was my safety net, one that guaranteed me everything if adultery marred our marriage.

When I got home early one day, I discovered Joseph and his coworker sleeping uncomfortably close together on our bed. They tried to make it appear as if nothing had happened, but the seed of mistrust had already been planted. He tried hard to convince me that it was nothing serious, but I knew better than to accept anything he said.

Days later, I received peeks of texts on Joseph’s phone from a woman named Amber, each of which vanished seconds after being read. The dishonesty was like a noose around my neck, choking me with each passing day. I came into Amber’s contact information by accident. My heart was racing when I phoned her number. “Amber, we need to talk,” I replied, trying to hide the trembling in my voice.

We met, and I explained my strategy. I couldn’t catch him in the act, but I knew he’d betrayed me. I proposed that she pretend to be pregnant. It was my way of trapping Joseph and retaliating for his gaslighting and mocking. In the midst of our plot, I discovered something much more damaging. Joseph falsified my signature on paperwork for financial benefit. This was my breaking point.

Amber assisted in setting up the pregnancy trap. Joseph’s reaction to the news was one of pure fear, as I had predicted. He filed for divorce to preserve his money, believing he could outmove me, but I was prepared. I never imagined I’d have the strength to face him. But sitting across the table from him, my voice was steady: “Joseph, you have two choices: sign the divorce papers and walk away, or prepare to see me in court, exposing every lie, every deceit.”

His normally calm visage wrenched as he realized his dilemma. His signature on those papers was the most rewarding experience of my life. Amber and I subsequently toasted our ingenious win. However, the satisfaction of vengeance was short. “We did it, Patricia,” Amber announced over the phone, her voice tinted with pride. “Yes, but it’s not over yet,” I said with determination. “He can’t just walk away from everything he’s done.”

I filed accusations against him for his illicit acts, and he eventually got imprisoned. Throughout this journey, I discovered a power and resolve within myself that I had never known existed. I stood up to Joseph, and by doing so, I protected my future. If you liked this tale, here’s another one about a woman who hired a private investigator to catch her unfaithful spouse.

I am 33 years old and have been married to my 39-year-old spouse, James, for several years. We both agreed that having children was in our future – we wanted to move into a house, which was a major step up from our small apartment, and we wanted to be financially stable. That is precisely what we are now. I’m an editor at a hugely successful magazine, and James works in cyber security, leading his own team at a giant multinational corporation.

So, now that I’m ready to have a baby, I’m waiting for James to get with the program. But recently, I’ve seen James acting suspiciously. He is always on the phone, answering late-night calls, and a strange perfume clings to the air around him. I was distraught by the prospect that James was cheating on me. But if I was going to create a family with this man, I had to know the truth. I’ve decided to hire a private investigator.

“Listen, Alexis,” Benson, the investigator, informed me as we met over coffee. “More often than not, you’ll discover your husband doing exactly what you expect. So, you should be prepared for the worst.” I nodded. I knew what I was getting into, and I was aware that at the conclusion of the investigation, my marriage may be over. The concept alone shattered all I knew about my life, but I had to know.

Benson vowed to do what was necessary, so I returned to work, ready to complete the final articles for the magazine’s deadline. Then things took a turn. I met with Benson at the end of the week, and he promised to have enough information for me. “Eileen,” he remarked as I sat at the table. “We need to end the probe. It’s time to wrap things up. Trust me, it’s safer for us since there’s a lot more available

I was left reeling, my thoughts racing with the endless possibilities of what James was doing. Benson’s reaction stunned me. I knew private investigators witnessed dirty things in their line of business, but I didn’t anticipate Benson to turn down the job after trailing James. “Keep the money,” he stated. “I don’t want it.” But I couldn’t simply sit back and accept defeat. I refuse to be kept in the dark. I took affairs into my own hands.

I intended to place concealed cameras and a voice recorder in James’ automobile and study at home. However, while setting up the cameras, I discovered that previous covert cameras were already in place. In our home. Who was the man that I married? Was our home a prison with continual surveillance? Panic set in, and I began packing, preparing to flee to my parents’ home until I knew more.

That’s when James came in. “What are you doing?” he inquired, glancing at the open suitcase. “Why are there secret cameras in our house?” I demanded. James’ remark struck me by surprise. “How did you find them?” Were you intending to install a camera as well?” he inquired, his face softly smiling – a smile that was clearly inappropriate for the situation. It was as if he was attempting to defuse a bomb by kindness.

“I wanted to know if you were cheating on me, James,” I murmured, feeling weary. “But the cameras are far worse. Are you checking on me? Why are they here? “Who are you?” The questions flowed out, each one heavier than the previous. James watched me for a few moments while the clock in the hall ticked away. “I’ll tell you everything, but you need to try and understand,” he continued. “That’s all I ask.”

James explained that he worked in security, but not the type he had previously described to me. “I’m an agent, Eileen,” he explained. “I couldn’t tell you anything for our own safety, but I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. So I placed the cameras and continuously monitor them to ensure our safety.” “What agent?” I inquired, feeling silly for my sluggish understanding of what James was saying.

“I am with the Secret Service, Eileen. I defend high-ranking government officials and, on occasion, ambassadors visiting the nation.” My thoughts raced. A secret agent? “Are you your own version of James Bond?” I inquired, attempting to laugh at the situation. James chuckled heartily before resuming his solemn tone. “It’s a lot,” he acknowledged. “It’s a stressful job, but I’m trying to get back into the cybersecurity part of it all.”

“What would that entail?” I asked. “It would mean that I would sit behind a computer and watch everything regarding the people that I have to protect.” “Why would you change to that?” I inquired, hoping to understand. “Because it would be safer for both of us. And we may begin planning our family. “I am doing it for us.” James grinned at me. But I wasn’t sure what to say. I was certain hours ago that my husband was up to something far worse than simply cheating on me.

Now that he had confessed the truth, I felt better. “Eileen?” James inquired. “I am sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth. Is this a deal-breaker? I laughed. I knew a sane person couldn’t handle it. But I loved James and couldn’t picture my life without him, even if it included espionage. “No,” I replied. “It’s not a deal breaker at all.” Now that the truth is out, I’m feeling better. I know our lives haven’t gotten any easier—but at least I know what I’m up against. James has pledged to transition to the desk side of being an agent, but time will tell. For the time being, we are in a positive and honest environment