Chapter 16 The Wife
The Wife
He thinks he’s so smart, so tricky. I pretend that I don’t know about her.
That I’m oblivious to everything. He leaves the house earlier every day.
Even when he’s here, his mind is elsewhere.
He stays in his office until late and comes to bed after I’m asleep.
The last time I never proved anything, but this time I will. I’m not going to turn a blind eye.
I turn the knob on his home office and enter.
He’s careful, so I’m not optimistic that I’ll find any clues, but I have to try.
I sit down at his desk and pull on the center drawer.
Locked. I rummage around for a key, looking under the blotter, in the pencil cup, moving papers on the surface—but there’s no key.
I glance at the built-in bookshelf lining the wall.
I don’t have time to search there. I’m already running late; I have a client meeting at nine with a woman who recently discovered her husband has been living a secret life for years.
She wants me to take him to the cleaners, and that’s what I intend to do.
They don’t call me a “ball-buster” for nothing.
I’ve made a good living, helping women make their husbands pay dearly in a divorce.
My reputation is well known. Unfortunately, my husband is aware of it, too, which makes him very hard to catch.