Every year my husband went on a “men’s trip” while I played the perfect wife—until one year I followed him, took 11 photos, and uncovered a truth that was about to destroy everything

simply said:

“Give me copies of everything.”

Raúl did as he was told.

At 7:30 that evening, Mauricio called me.

“Hey, babe. How are you? Just landed in Guadalajara with the guys. The hotel is incredible.”

I looked at the black folder on my desk.

“That’s great,” I said.

“Did you have a chance to look over the contract?”

“Yes.”

A brief silence.