I didn't respond.
"Leo, please," she begged. "Let's talk. In person. Please. Just hear me out."
"You don't deserve a conversation," I replied coldly. "You deserve consequences."
And I hung up.
The next step was Chase. I wasn't going to leave him untouched. No. That man built his house on my broken promises, and it was time to burn it down.
I met his wife, Charlotte Dalton, three days later. I dressed casually: clean, presentable. I showed up at her yoga studio during her lunch break, waited respectfully outside.
"Hi," I said softly when she stepped out sipping green juice. "Are you Charlotte Dalton?"
She paused, wary. "Yes."
"I'm Leo Hart. I'm Lena's husband."
Her face drained of color.
Ten minutes later, we were sitting on a bench under an old oak tree in the park. I didn't shout. I didn't accuse. I just handed her a sealed envelope. Inside: everything. She flipped through it—photos, messages, hotel bookings. The last page was a note I'd written in block letters: He's been cheating on you with my wife for over a year.
Charlotte didn't cry. She just whispered, "I thought it was just me. That I was crazy."