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My Husband’s Mistress Read My Private Dates—Then the Doorbell Rang / Chapter 3 / 7

Chapter 3 — My Husband’s Mistress Read My Private Dates—Then the Doorbell Rang

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That night I stayed exactly where I was.

My attorney removed several pages.

She did not pass them around.

She simply placed them face down on the table.

“The device examination found access activity involving files Anna kept in her private office,” she said.

“Copies have already been preserved.

Tonight’s conversation may help establish where some of that information went afterward.”

Grant gave a short laugh.

“You’re making computer activity sound criminal now?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He had expected an accusation he could attack.

Her restraint irritated him.

She continued.

“I am saying Anna had private material.

Someone accessed it.

Now a third party is sitting at a family dinner reading details that appear to match that material.”

Vanessa’s face lost color.

“I didn’t go into her office.”

“No one said you did,” I replied.

Her eyes shifted immediately to Grant.

He swore under his breath.

And there it was.

The first crack.

I asked Vanessa again.

“Where did you get the dates?”

This time Grant did not interrupt fast enough.

“He sent them to me.”

Evelyn gripped the back of her chair.

Grant turned on Vanessa.

“Be careful.”

She stared at him.

“You sent me notes.”

“They were my notes.”

“No.” Vanessa opened the black book with shaking hands.

“You told me these were things Anna admitted.

You said you had been keeping track because she was unstable.”

My stomach tightened, but I did not look away.

That was the story he had been building.

Not merely that our marriage had failed.

That I had failed it.

That every panic attack proved instability.

Every boundary proved hostility.

Every private fear became evidence that Grant had endured an unreasonable wife.

The black book was not Vanessa’s idea of revenge.

It was Grant’s narrative, copied into her handwriting.

My attorney asked, “Did he send you photographs?”

Vanessa hesitated.

Grant snapped, “You do not have to answer her.”

Vanessa turned toward him.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because she’s manipulating you.”

Vanessa laughed once, but there was no amusement in it anymore.

“You told me she gave you these things.”

“I said they came from my house.”

“You said she shared them with you.”

“I don’t remember every conversation we’ve ever had.”