Friends don't usually exchange lingerie. The tears stopped. For a moment, I saw the real Sierra cold, calculating, angry at being caught. You went through my things. Eli dropped them when he came by last night, careless of him.
Sierra stood up, pacing to the window. Okay, fine. Maybe Eli and I have gotten close, but it's not what you think. I'm not having an affair. Then what would you call it?
I call it none of your business. We're adults, Nick. We can have friendships outside our marriage. The gaslighting was impressive. I had to give her credit.
Turn the victim into the aggressor. Make me the bad guy for discovering her lies. It might have worked 6 months ago when I still trusted her. "You're right," I said, standing up. "We are adults, which is why I'm going to treat you like one." I walked to my home office and returned with a manila folder.
Inside were printouts of everything. The credit card statements, the location data, screenshots of her lies about working late cross- refferenced with her actual whereabouts. This is what an adult conversation looks like. Sierra facts, evidence, truth. She flipped through the pages, her expression growing more desperate with each one.
Where did you get all this? I'm good at my job. I notice details. I investigate problems and find solutions. I lean back in my chair right now.
You're the problem. Are you threatening me? I'm informing you. This stops now or everyone in your precious social circle gets to see exactly what kind of person you really are. Sierra's mask finally slipped completely.
You bastard. You can't control me. I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to save our marriage. But if you'd rather destroy it for some gym rat with a least car and delusions of grandeur, that's your choice.
She grabbed her purse and headed for the door. I'm staying at Marggo's tonight. Don't wait up. After she left, Alex came downstairs. She'd been listening from the top of the stairs, and her face was a mix of sadness and relief.
"Is it over?" she asked. "Not yet," I said. "But it will be soon." The next morning, I put phase two of my plan into action. I'd learned a long time ago that the best revenge isn't getting mad, it's getting even systematically and completely. First, I sent an anonymous email to Eli's HR department, including photos of his damaged car from the night before, along with a fabricated complaint about reckless driving in the company parking lot.
Nothing that would get him fired, just enough to put him on their radar. Second, I visited Mrs. Luntz, our elderly neighbor, who spent most of her day watching the street through her front window. Mrs. Lunts loved gossip almost as much as she loved her garden. And she'd been watching Sierra's comingings and goings with interest for months. "I knew something was up," she said, pouring tea in her cluttered living room.
"That girl's been acting strange all summer. Different cars picking her up, staying out all hours." "Different cars?" "Oh, yes, there's the Tesla boy, but also that woman, Margot, with the red convertible, and sometimes she just walks to the corner and gets picked up by cars I don't recognize." Mrs. Lunt had been keeping an informal log of Sierra's activities, complete with dates and times. She handed me a notebook filled with her careful handwriting, months of observations that painted a picture of a woman living a double life. I didn't want to interfere, Mrs. L said. But I like you, Nick.
You fixed my porch steps last winter and wouldn't take any money for it. A man like that deserves better than a cheating wife. Armed with Mrs. L's intelligence. I started mapping Sierra's network of enablers. Margot, her real estate agent best friend who loved drama more than oxygen.
Kevin, another co-orker who thrived on office gossip. Tabitha, the social media maven who documented everything for her Instagram followers. They were all complicit, all helping Sierra lie to me while pretending to be my friend at neighborhood barbecues and dinner parties. They'd smile to my face while helping my wife destroy our marriage behind my back. It was time to return the favor.
Sierra came home the next evening with Margot and tow. Both of them wearing the kind of determined expressions that meant trouble. I was in the garage working on a cabinet project when they cornered me. Nick, we need to talk, Sierra said. All of us.
Margot stepped forward, her real estate agent smile plastered on her face. Nick, Sierra's told me about your little misunderstanding. I think there's been a communication breakdown here. I sat down my sander and looked at both of them. Misunderstanding about her friendship with Eli, Margot continued.
Sierra's been helping him with some personal problems. His divorce, his custody battle with his ex-wife. She's been acting as a friend and adviser, nothing more. The lie was so elaborate, I almost admired it. They'd spent the night crafting a story that explained away all the evidence while making me look like a paranoid husband.
Personal problems, I repeated. Is that what they're calling it now? Sierra stepped closer. Nick, I know you're upset, but you're wrong about this. Eli and I are friends.
That's all we've ever been. I pulled out my phone and played the audio recording I'd made the night before. I'd placed a small digital recorder in Sierra's car before she left for Margot's house, and the two women had spent the entire drive discussing their plan to gaslight me. Sierra's voice came through the speaker clearly. Nick's getting suspicious, but he doesn't have any real proof.
If we stick to the story about Eli's divorce, he can't prove anything else. Marggo's voice followed. What about the underwear Eli dropped? I'll say Nick planted it. Make him look crazy and controlling.
By the time I'm done, everyone will think he's having some kind of midlife crisis breakdown. The color drained from both women's faces as their own words played back to them. "You recorded us?" Sierra whispered. I documented a conversation that took place in my car on my property. Perfectly legal.
I stopped the recording. Want to hear the part where you discuss cleaning out our joint bank account? Margot backed toward the door. I think I should go. Good idea, I said.