This isn't a bad choice. This is This is evil. Before I could respond, Lydia appeared at the top of the stairs. "Maya, can we talk?" "No," Maya said firmly. "I don't want to talk to you." "Please, sweetheart, let me explain." "Explain what?
How you've been lying to us for 6 months? How you brought your boyfriend into our house?" Lydia came down the stairs slowly. It's complicated, Maya. You don't understand adult relationships. I understand cheating, Mia shot back.
I understand lying. I understand that you destroyed our family because you were bored. That's not fair. Fair? Mia stood up, her voice rising.
You want to talk about fair? Is it fair that dad has to find out his wife is cheating by installing security cameras? Is it fair that I have to find out my mother is a liar? Maya, please. No, I'm going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa Hartwell.
I can't even look at you right now. Maya ran upstairs to pack a bag. Lydia turned to me with desperation in her eyes. Dave, please help me fix this. Fix this.
Lydia, you can't fix this. You broke something that can't be repaired. It was a mistake. A stupid, terrible mistake. A mistake is forgetting to pick up milk at the store.
This was a choice. 6 months of choices. I'll end it with Chris. I'll do whatever you want. It's too late for that.
Way too late. Maya came back downstairs with her overnight bag. I called Grandma. She's coming to pick me up. Maya, please don't go.
Lydia begged. We can work through this as a family. We're not a family anymore. Maya said coldly. You made sure of that.
20 minutes later, Judith Hartwell arrived to collect her granddaughter. She didn't even acknowledge Lydia's presence. After they left, the house felt empty and cold. Lydia and I stood in our living room like strangers. "So what now?" she asked.
"Now you pack a bag and find somewhere else to stay. I'll file for divorce tomorrow." "This is my house, too." "Not anymore. See, I did some research today. In a fault-based divorce due to adultery, the innocent spouse gets to keep the marital home, especially when there's video evidence of the adultery taking place in said home." Her face went white. You can't kick me out.
I'm not kicking you out. I'm asking you to leave voluntarily. If you refuse, I'll have you removed. You bastard. I'm the bastard.
Really? After everything you've done, I'm the bad guy here. She went upstairs to pack. While she was gone, I called my lawyer, Jim Patterson, and left a message explaining the situation. When Lydia came back down with her suitcase, I was waiting by the front door.
Where will you go? I asked. Chris's apartment, I guess. Good. You two deserve each other.
She paused at the door. Dave, I really am sorry. No, you're not. You're sorry you got caught. There's a difference.
After she left, I poured myself a large whiskey and sat in my workshop, surrounded by the furniture I built with my own hands. Everything in my life that mattered, my marriage, my family, my future, had been destroyed by my wife's selfishness. But I wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot. The next morning, I woke up with a hangover and a plan.
I called Jim Patterson first thing. Dave, I got your message. Jesus Christ, what a mess. Jim, I want to destroy them both legally. What are my options?
Well, you've got grounds for a fault-based divorce, which means you'll likely get the house majority custody of Maya and favorable asset division. As for the boyfriend, if he's been in your house without permission, that could be trespassing. What about at work? They're co-workers. If their relationship violates company policy, that's their problem.
Do you know if their company has a fraternization policy? I'll find out. My next call was to Lydia's boss, regional director Patricia Walsh. I'd met Patricia several times at company functions. She was a nononsense woman who ran a tight ship.
Patricia, this is Dave Mitchell, Lydia's husband. Oh, hello Dave. How are you? I've been better. I'm calling because I thought you should know that Lydia and Chris Brennan have been having an affair for the past 6 months.
There was a long pause. That's a very serious accusation, Dave. I have video evidence, security footage from my home showing them together on multiple occasions during work hours. I see. Can you send me that evidence?
I'll email it to you this afternoon. Dave, I have to ask. Are you sure you want to go down this road? Once I receive that evidence, I'll have to take action. Patricia, they've been using company time and resources to conduct their affair.
Chris has been at my house during work hours. They've been lying to their colleagues about their relationship. Yes, I'm sure I want you to see the evidence. I understand. Send me what you have.
After I hung up, I spent 2 hours editing the security footage into a comprehensive presentation. I included timestamps showing Chris's car in my driveway during work hours, audio of him and Lydia discussing work matters while in bed together, and clear shots of both their faces so there could be no doubt about their identities. I sent the file to Patricia with a detailed timeline and a list of dates when the affair had taken place during business hours. Then I called Mrs. Feldman. Mrs. Feldman, it's Dave Mitchell.
Oh, hello dear. How are you holding up? I'm managing. Mrs. Feldman, I wanted to thank you for keeping an eye on the house. Your vigilance helped me discover that my wife was having an affair.
Oh my goodness. I knew something was going on. That silver car was there so often during the day. Yes. Well, I just wanted you to know in case anyone asks.
Lydia and I are getting divorced. Of course, dear. Is there anything I can do to help? Actually, if anyone asks about what you saw, please feel free to tell them the truth. Mrs. Feldman was better than a newspaper for spreading information.
By evening, everyone in the neighborhood would know about Lydia's affair. My phone rang around noon. It was Chris. "You son of a witch," he said without preamble. "Good morning to you, too, Chris." Patricia Walsh just called me into her office.
She's seen your little video presentation. How'd that go? We're both suspended pending investigation. If they find evidence of misconduct, we could be fired. Gee, that's terrible.