Chapter 1

My husband's first love was seriously ill, and every day he secretly took the meals I cooked to her, treating me like his personal, unpaid maid.

When our son found out, he didn't side with me. Instead, he helped my husband hide it, and even accused me of having a dirty mind and being petty.

The father and son were in cahoots, playing me for a fool.

I watched them with cold eyes, deciding to finally get rid of both of those jerks.

The moment Mark walked through the door, he ordered our son, Liam, to wash the dirty lunchbox he’d used for lunch.

Liam was a senior in high school, a crucial year for college admissions.

Hearing this, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger. I glared at Mark, who was sprawled on the couch. "What, are your hands broken? You need to order our son around just to wash a lunchbox?"

Mark didn't say a word. Liam, holding the lunchbox, chuckled, "It's fine, Mom. Dad works hard all day. I should wash his lunchbox."

Liam headed to the sink, but he gasped as the cold water hit his hands.

Seeing his hands turn red from the cold, I sighed. "Go on, I'll do it."

Liam didn't argue much, just said, "Thanks, Mom," and left the kitchen.

I tossed the lunchbox into the sink. Just as I was about to turn on the faucet, a splash of red on the spoon caught my eye.

A clear red stain was printed on the milky-white ceramic spoon. I wiped it with my finger, and most of the red came off.

As a woman, I knew a lipstick stain when I saw one.

For years, Mark had always complained that my cooking was bland. But lately, he’d been asking me to cook more light, nutritious meals, insisting he needed to take them to work.

Considering Mark's sudden change in taste, I thought to myself, there had to be something fishy going on.

The thought of Mark ordering me around like I was his personal chef, demanding this and that every day, made my anger boil.

My mind was still reeling from the frustration when Liam's voice suddenly broke through. "Mom, is dinner ready? I'm starving!"

I snapped back to reality, looking at the spoon in my hand. I pulled out my phone and took a few pictures.

I knew Mark too well. If I confronted him now, it wouldn't lead anywhere. He'd come up with a hundred excuses and justifications.

I needed solid proof.