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It started with a subtle anomaly. My
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home security system, which I had
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painstakingly installed myself, would
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inexplicably go offline. Not when I was
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home, of course, but only when I was
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away. A day trip to visit family, a
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weekend conference, a late night at the
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office. Each time, the alarm system
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would report a mysterious connection
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failure. When I mentioned it to a
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friend, a lawyer with a sharp mind, and
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an even sharper wit, he gave me a look
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that said everything.
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Alarm systems aren't that flaky, he
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said, his voice laced with suspicion.
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Don't you think it's strange that it's
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offline when you're away, but never has
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this issue when you're around?
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The seed of doubt was planted, and it
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began to grow. My wife, the person I had
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trusted with my life and my home, was
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the only other person with access. Was
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she manually turning it off?
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The thought was a bitter pill to
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swallow, but I couldn't ignore it. The
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next day, I went to the store and bought
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a small, discrete camera. I hooked it up
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to the security system itself, aiming it
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directly at the hub. It was a test, a
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silent accusation I was not yet ready to
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I told my wife I had another day trip
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planned for the following week. She
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smiled, kissed me goodbye, and went
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about her day. I left, but I didn't go
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far. I just stayed out of sight,
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watching the feed from my phone.
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Sure enough, the system went offline
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again, but this time I had a recording.
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I watched, my heart sinking as my wife,
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the woman I loved, walked over to the
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system and manually disconnected it. The
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visual confirmation was a punch to the
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gut. The betrayal was real. I wanted to
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confront her, to demand an explanation,
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to unleash the torrent of anger and hurt
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But my lawyer friend, a voice of reason
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in my emotional storm, stopped me.
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"No," he said, his tone firm. "You don't
2:08
have enough evidence.
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You have to be patient. How could I be
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How could I gather evidence if she was
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just going to turn the system off?
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Get a decoy," he advised, explaining his
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plan. It was a brilliant, deceptive, and
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completely necessary idea.
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I bought a second hub for the security
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system. I put the original functioning
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one in a hidden spot under the counter
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and out of sight. The decoy was placed
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exactly where the original had been, a
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perfect replica of the system she
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thought she was disabling.
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The next day, I told her I had another
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day trip. I left, but I stayed close.
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The camera feed showed her walking over
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to the decoy, flipping the switch, and
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walking away. But this time, the real
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system hidden under the counter
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continued to work. I had the system
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logs. I had her, my friend, the lawyer,
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told me I still didn't have enough. I
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needed more than just proof of a
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disabled security system. I needed proof
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of what she was doing while it was off.
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So, I was patient. I set up the rest of
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the plan in stages, each time letting
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her get away with it, each time
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gathering more evidence.
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I bought a small wireless camera and
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placed it facing the entry door. Over
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several more day trips, I discovered she
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was having a guest, a man who would park
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several streets over and walk to the
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I found his car and with the help of my
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friend I learned that a GPS tracker was
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the easiest way to identify him without
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getting caught. I waited for the right
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I told my wife I would be working in the
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city 40 m away for the rest of the week.
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That day the lover came over. I took a
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week off from work and discreetly placed
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a GPS on his car. For the next several
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days, I traced his every move from my
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laptop, a silent, allseeing eye. I found
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his home address, and using online
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property records, his name, and his
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wife's name. They had been married for
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17 years and had high school-aged
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children. I was no longer dealing with a
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simple act of infidelity. I was dealing
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with a web of lies that spanned two
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families. The next step was the most
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I placed a wireless camera in our
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bedroom only to discover they weren't
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using our bed. They were using our
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walk-in closet, a place I had naively
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thought was a sanctuary of intimacy. The
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camera captured the audio, but not the
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So, when she went shopping one day, I
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moved the camera. The next time he came
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over, I caught them in the act. Full
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glory. Everything I needed.
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My lawyer friend told me that even with
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all of this, she would still deny it.
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She would want to protect him, and in
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doing so, she would deny the truth to
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"Your best bet," he said, "is to bundle
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all this stuff together and give it to
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her lover's wife anonymously.
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Once this happens, the dominoes will
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flow backward, and your wife will have
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to come to you with a confession." I
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loved the plan. It was clever,
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vindictive, and it kept my hands clean.
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But I wanted to do more. I wanted to
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I took all the evidence, the camera
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footage, the GPS logs, the security
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system logs, the dates and times, and I
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pieced them together in a movie editor.
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I added context captions, creating a
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detailed timeline of their affair. It
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was strangely fun, a way to channel my
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anger and hurt into a creative, vengeful
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outlet. I added spy music, a Gershwin
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tune for their romantic rendevous at the
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door, and a Billy Idol rock song for the
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big love scene. I even added comedy
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pop-ups with thought bubbles. I was
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having a blast, and I couldn't help but
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wonder if I was losing my mind. But in
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that moment, I wasn't just a victim. I
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was a master of the game. I was a The
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day came to drop off the movie. I went
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to the lover's wife's house, a stranger
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to her, and told her I was doing a
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background investigation on her husband
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for a potential new job.
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I handed her the movie and left. I
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didn't see the explosion, but I heard
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That evening, my wife came to me
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teareyed and full of confession. I asked
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her why she was telling me now. The
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other wife, she said, had called her
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with the information, threatening to
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tell me herself if my wife didn't. My
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wife, a woman who had deceived me for 4
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years, was now a victim of her own
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deceit. I had the presence of mind to
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have my wireless camera recording. As
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she confessed, I captured it all on
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record. And then she gave me the bonus
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information. She had been having the
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affair for almost 4 years. She'd even
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gotten pregnant once and miscarried and
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had lied to me about the reason. It was
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highly satisfying to pretend ignorance
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as she confessed her heart out. I told
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her I wanted her to file for divorce and
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to assume she would get nothing. But I,
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in my magnanimousness, would give her
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something after the fact for my
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She of course refused. She hired an
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attorney who tried to get her more than
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half of our assets, leaving me with all
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My attorney, armed with all the evidence
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I had collected, argued she should get
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nothing. He presented the evidence,
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including the confession I had recorded,
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and the judge sided with us. At the
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hearing, the lover showed up.
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I had never officially met him, but I
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knew who he was. I walked up to him on a
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recess break, introduced myself, and
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corrected him on his fake name and his
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fabricated reason for being there.
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The look on his face was priceless. He
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and his wife divorced, and she, armed
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with the information I had provided,
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took the lion's share of their assets.
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Sometime later, I ran into her at the
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supermarket. She cornered me in the
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dairy section, a ry smile on her face.
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"You dropped off some valuable
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information with me not too long ago,"
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she said. We talked for a few moments,
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and I confessed who I was. She thanked
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me for my patience, for my self-control
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and for getting the evidence to stick.
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That evening, my ex-wife called a
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furious, venomous voice on the other end
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of the line. She had found out about my
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involvement, and she was livid. She had
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believed my cover story about the
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investigator, but the lover and his
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ex-wife had put the pieces together. I
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just laughed. "So what?" I said, "You
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confessed to me. I didn't have to play
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bad cop. The writing was on the wall and
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you knew it. She said, "No, if I had
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known, I would not have confessed."
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"Exactly," I said. "I got what I wanted
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in the only way I could have gotten it,
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and frankly, I had a blast doing it." I
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hung up, a sense of finality washing
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over me. The game was over and I had