My husband, Kevin, liked things done his way—and I was the only one who knew how. I kept a reminder list: No onions. Steak medium-rare, thick. Roses blooming year-round. Shirts ironed crisp. Crisp white sheets. Spotless kitchen. Polished tea set. Fresh herbs.
I constantly made voice recordings to stay compliant—tiny commands as bedtime stories to keep me needed.
Then I made a recording for myself:
[Monday, 6:12 a.m.]
“First run in five years. Feels like I’m running away from myself.”
That morning I’d already been ironing pillowcases since 5 a.m. My writing room lay buried under linens.
Kevin thrilled when I quit my job—“With hands like yours, you’re needed at home.” So I stayed.
[Monday, 7:15 a.m.]
“Kevin left for work…Ordered grilled veggies, steak, lemon tart. Must buy groceries…”
But something snapped. I laced up my sneakers, walked out—no makeup, no hairbrush. At the corner, Kevin’s car sat idle. He walked to the Tube instead. I hid and recorded:
[Monday, 7:38 a.m.]
“He always said he drives to work. Why lie?”
At home, I realized—I wasn’t his wife. I was his housekeeper.
[Monday, 8:03 a.m.]
“Tomorrow—disguise. Big hoodie, sunglasses. Let’s see who he kisses goodbye.”
The next morning: Kevin again on the Tube, smiling at his phone.
[Tuesday, 6:57 a.m.]
“He’s waiting. Smiles at his phone.”
I followed him—two cars behind. At the station I saw her: his young paramour. He touched her knee. She giggled.
[Tuesday, 7:18 a.m.]
“There she is—young, bright. Nothing like the woman ironing his sheets.”
A stranger watched them too. Next station, new recordings:
[Tuesday, 7:32 a.m.]
“That stranger—who is he?”
They ended in a café. The tall man nearby made eye contact. We mouthed: “Wife.” “Father.”
[Tuesday, 7:55 a.m.]
“I’ll leave her for you…”
“She wants your big fancy house on her birthday…”
I snapped a photo. I’d record every dirty detail. He helped too—her father. We plotted revenge.
Wednesday evening, we confronted him at his ex‑wife’s home. Her daughter, his plans exposed via recordings and photos.
[Wednesday, 7:48 p.m.]
“Waiting in the dark…”
They walked in expecting a surprise. Instead, we unleashed the truth.
Kevin was forced to face his lies. Laura forbade college money. I offered divorce, revealed prenup penalties. He got no alimony. Daughter got no support.
[Wednesday, 7:59 p.m.]
“Revenge tastes better than lemon tart. When you need a partner in crime, pick someone who hates lies as much as you do.”