Tag: divorce-attorney

A Web of Lies Unveiled – The mistress’s husband

Jocelyn’s fingers trembled as she scrolled through social media, piecing together the fragments of her husband’s life he’d let slip in passing—names of coworkers, their families, their lives. One name stood out: his assistant, a woman with an unusual last name that lingered in Jocelyn’s mind like a splinter. It took hours of relentless searching, phonetic spellings, and dead ends, but she found her. A profile. A face. And her husband’s name.  Through Google, Jocelyn found the phone number of the man married to her husband’s mistress.

Her heart pounded, a drumbeat of dread and defiance, as she dialed. The phone rang, each tone tightening the knot in her chest.

“Hello, is this Chuck?” Her voice was steady, but barely.

“Yes, it is. Who’s calling?” His tone was cautious, professional.

“You don’t know me, and I’m so sorry to bother you at work,” Jocelyn said, her words rushing out, “but I need to ask…are you aware that your wife is having an affair?”

The line crackled with Chuck’s fury. “I knew it! I knew she was spending too much time with Mitchell! Damn it! She’s always on her phone with him!”

Jocelyn’s breath caught. “So, you’ve known about this?”

“She denies it,” Chuck spat, his voice raw with betrayal. “But I knew something was off.”

Her chest tightened, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over her—anger, sorrow, and a strange, fleeting relief that she wasn’t alone in her pain. Chuck’s voice mirrored the ache she carried, a shared wound laid bare. “I have proof,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “Evidence. I want to meet with you and show you everything. Are you willing?”

“Yes,” Chuck replied, urgency creeping into his tone. “But what’s your name again?”

Her mind raced. She couldn’t reveal herself—not yet. Driving aimlessly through a strip mall, glued to the conversation, her eyes caught a sign: Sally Beauty Salon. The name hit her like a lifeline. “Sally,” she said, the lie sharp in her gut. “I’m Sally.”

“Are you a private investigator?” Chuck asked, suspicion lingering.

“No,” she replied, steadying her voice, “but I’m working on this case.”

Chuck took her number, his voice tight. “I need to call my sister. Is it okay if she calls you? I need to make sure this is legitimate.”

Fifteen minutes later, her phone buzzed. Chuck’s sister introduced herself, her tone wary but softening as Jocelyn spoke. Convinced, she promised to relay the details to Chuck. The confirmation landed like a stone in Jocelyn’s stomach, heavy but grounding. Someone else knew. Someone else believed.

Chuck called back, his voice urgent. “Can we meet at a restaurant on my side of town?”

Jocelyn agreed, her heart a tangled mess of dread and determination. Four days to prepare for a meeting that would rip open the wounds she was still learning to bear.

When the day arrived, Jocelyn arrived early, claiming a booth in the back of the dimly lit restaurant. A folder of enlarged photos lay before her—evidence of a truth she could no longer deny. Her phone rang. Chuck’s voice crackled, nervous and confused. “I don’t know what you look like.  How do I find you in the restaurant?”

A small, bitter laugh escaped her. “Turn left,” she guided, her voice steady despite the chaos inside. “Pass three tables. Make a right. I’m in the corner booth.”

Chuck slid into the seat across from her, hanging up as his eyes met hers. “You must be his wife,” he said, his voice low, certain. “You know too much.”

Jocelyn paused, her heart pounding, before exhaling a trembling sigh. “Yes, I am,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She confessed the impulsive lie about calling herself “Sally,” a name born of panic in that tense phone call. Chuck’s eyes softened, and a fleeting, bittersweet smile broke through the heavy air. To ease the awkwardness, he leaned in with a wry grin. “Well, I guess I should tell you—my real name’s Harry.” Their laughter, soft and fragile, filled the booth, a nod to When Harry Met Sally, a momentary spark of lightness in a night weighed down by raw, painful truth. “I got caught off guard,” Jocelyn murmured, her voice gentle, tinged with vulnerability, as the shared chuckle faded into the gravity of their shared betrayal.

The air shifted as Jocelyn spoke, her words raw and trembling. “I can’t believe he’s been unfaithful, and he’s still denying it. I needed you to know the truth—so you don’t have to endure what I’m going through.”

Chuck nodded, his gratitude laced with pain. “I’ve suspected for a long time. Vanessa always denied it, but I knew. From the day he hired her all she talked about was her boss!”

Jocelyn slid the folder across the table, her hands unsteady. Photos of stolen moments, messages, proof of a life hidden from them both. She then pulled up the videos taken by hired private investigators and the hard proof was starring at him in action.  Chuck’s face hardened, his anger a quiet storm. He shook his head, swearing under his breath, the weight of betrayal sinking in. Jocelyn recognized that look—the same one she saw in her own reflection.

Then Chuck unraveled a truth that hit her like a freight train. “She’d always use my Lexus to drive her boss to the airport,” he said, his voice tight. “She’d get it cleaned, prepped, like it was part of her job. She’d leave work early when he was traveling.”

Jocelyn’s stomach churned. Her husband’s business trips—countless, meticulously planned, always with excuses. He’d never let her drive him to the airport, never let her touch his suits to drop off at the dry cleaner’s from his returned business trips.  Now it was clear why: he was hiding more than she’d ever imagined. The realization clawed at her, a sickening truth that her life had been a lie long before the divorce papers.

She sat there, the photos a silent scream between them, her heart splintering under the weight of it all. Her husband’s betrayal wasn’t just a moment—it was a tapestry of deceit, woven over years, unraveling now in a stranger’s pain-filled eyes. And yet, in that shared agony, Jocelyn found a flicker of strength. She wasn’t alone. And this was only the beginning of the truth she’d uncover.

Jocelyn’s voice trembled with concern as she looked at Chuck, her eyes searching his face. “What are you going to do after this?” she asked softly, the weight of their meeting hanging in the air. Without a moment’s hesitation, Chuck’s response came like a thunderclap, raw and resolute: “I’m filing for divorce.”

Shocked, I leaned forward, my heart racing. “Are you sure?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, hoping he’d pause to reflect. But Chuck’s eyes blazed with certainty as he shouted, “Yes!” The word echoed, heavy with conviction, leaving no room for doubt.

Swallowing hard, I steadied myself and spoke, my tone gentle but firm. “You should consider using my attorney. The evidence I have… it could help both our cases.” Chuck didn’t hesitate, his face softening with gratitude. “Please,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less determined, “have your attorney reach out to me. I want to get this filed right away!”