His Affair Cost My All

The blue glow of my laptop screen was the only light in my home office as I rubbed my tired eyes. It was nearly midnight, but the quarterly reports wouldn't review themselves. Julian had texted earlier saying he was working late again—the third time this week. I didn't question it; we both had demanding careers.

As I reached for my coffee mug, a small animated kitten suddenly popped up in the corner of my screen. The desktop pet Julian had given me for our anniversary last month was supposedly just a cute decoration—a digital companion to keep me company during late nights.

"Look, it even has your eyes," he'd said with that charming smile that still made my heart flutter after five years of marriage.

The kitten avatar stretched and pawed at the screen, which was normal. What wasn't normal was the chat box that suddenly appeared beside it.

"Julian, go buy lobster rolls at midnight NOW! I'm craving them so badly. Don't forget the extra sauce this time!"

I froze, coffee mug suspended midair. The kitten meowed and the message remained on screen for several seconds before disappearing. My stomach twisted into a knot.

Why would my desktop pet be displaying messages about lobster rolls? And addressed to Julian? I set down my mug with a shaky hand, the coffee suddenly bitter in my mouth.

The pet was just supposed to be a cute animation. It shouldn't be displaying messages at all, let alone specific food requests. Unless...

Unless it was somehow connected to Julian's phone. Or someone else's device.

I tried clicking on the kitten, searching for settings or message history, but found nothing. The avatar simply purred and curled up in the corner of my screen as if nothing had happened.

Sleep evaded me that night. I lay beside Julian, who had returned home around 1 AM smelling faintly of something that wasn't his usual cologne. He claimed exhaustion and fell asleep immediately, while I stared at the ceiling, that message replaying in my mind.

By morning, I had made my decision. After Julian left for work, I made a call to a private investigation agency recommended by a colleague years ago. I'd saved the number, never imagining I'd actually use it.

"Martinez Security Solutions, this is Detective Sarah Kim speaking."

"Hello," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the trembling in my hands. "I need someone to investigate my husband. Discreetly."

Three days later, I sat across from Detective Kim in a quiet café several neighborhoods away from both my home and office. She was younger than I expected, with sharp eyes that missed nothing and a neutral expression that revealed no judgment.

"Mrs. Crawford—" she began.

"Martinez," I corrected. "I kept my name professionally. Nina Martinez."

She nodded, making a note. "Ms. Martinez, I have the preliminary findings you requested."

The manila envelope she slid across the table looked so ordinary, so innocuous. How could something so plain contain what might be the end of my marriage?

"Take your time," Detective Kim said softly. "Would you like me to stay or give you privacy?"

"Stay," I whispered. "Please."

With trembling fingers, I opened the envelope and removed a stack of glossy photographs. The first showed Julian entering a restaurant I didn't recognize. Nothing incriminating there. The second showed him laughing with a woman I'd never seen before—young, beautiful, with cascading dark hair and a smile that seemed to captivate him completely.

"Her name is Raelyn Fisher," Detective Kim explained. "Twenty-eight years old, works in fashion marketing."

I flipped to the next photo and felt my world collapse. Julian and this Raelyn, locked in an intimate embrace outside what appeared to be a hotel. The next: kissing passionately in a car. And then—my breath caught painfully—the two of them entering the front door of my mansion. My home. The home I had purchased with my own money after our marriage, when my startup finally took off.

The timestamp showed it was two days ago, when Julian told me he was meeting clients in Chicago.

"There's more," Detective Kim said gently. "The affair appears to have been ongoing for at least four months, based on the evidence I've gathered."

Four months. While I worked late nights building our future. While I grieved the anniversary of my miscarriage alone because Julian claimed to be at an important business dinner.

The lobster rolls suddenly made sense. A midnight craving, sent to the wrong device.

I closed my eyes, feeling something inside me harden into steel.

"Thank you, Detective Kim," I said, my voice no longer shaking. "I believe I'll be requiring your services for a while longer."