Cheating Husband Trapped Me, I Caught His Mistress Riding

Start Reading

The day before my husband's surgery, I was out of town on a business trip, and every ticket home was sold out.

I got so frantic I started crying. A colleague couldn't stand watching it, so she booked me a rideshare home.

The driver who took the ride was the very husband who was supposed to be lying in a hospital bed. Bertram Dickerson.

And in the passenger seat sat an intern from his company.

Without even turning around, Bertram said to me, "Hi there. You booked the private three-seat ride, right? The lady next to me is my wife, so she doesn't count toward the headcount."

"I won't pick up anyone else on the way, I'll take you straight home. We split the toll fifty-fifty, that work for you?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

The whole way, the two of them flirted and teased each other.

As we neared the last rest stop, they started talking about Bertram's birthday.

Bertram laughed. "So we wouldn't get interrupted, just the two of us, I told Winona Fletcher I was having surgery."

"And to be safe, I went ahead and bought up every ticket. She wants to come home? She'd have to walk."

I quietly clenched my fist and spoke up.

"Open the door. I'm getting out."

...

This SUV of Bertram's is mine.

To be exact, it was the car my parents bought for me as part of my dowry when I married him.

But in five full years of marriage, this was the first time I had ever sat inside it.

Every time I wanted to use the car, or hoped he'd come pick me up on a rainy day,

Bertram would turn me down, looking put out. "Babe, I've got a serious thing about my space. I don't like other people in my car, you'll mess up my personal space. You get that, right?"

Back then it pained me that his job was so stressful, and I made allowances for his quirk.

For three years, rain or shine, I crammed onto the subway and left the car entirely to him.

But only now did I see it clearly. In this so-called personal space of his,

a pink air freshener hung from the vent,

a soft little teddy-bear pillow sat in the back seat,

and the armrest console was cluttered with a heap of snack boxes.

Some sense of territory. Some not wanting anyone else in his car.

So it turned out his passenger seat had been pampering another woman all along.

I looked toward the front.

The one in the passenger seat was Edwina Swanson, an intern who'd only recently gone permanent at Bertram's company.

In the group team-building photo Bertram had sent, she'd been the one crouching sweetly in the front row.

I'd noticed her right away, even said she was cute.

What had Bertram said back then?

He'd curled his lip, careless. "Her? Her head's not on the job at all. I give it a month before they let her go."

Bertram is an industry star, demanding of himself and everyone else.

The reason we ended up together was that I was smart and driven, that I fit what he wanted in a wife.

He praised me often, said I was level-headed and clear-eyed, good at my work, that we were a natural match.

After we married, he kept insisting I stay independent.

When I ran into trouble at work, he told me to figure it out myself.

When I broke down over my father's illness, he coldly lectured me that grown adults shouldn't dump their negativity on their partner.

When I forwarded him a Christmas video, all he did was frown and call it a trap set by corporations.

Even when I bought some new snacks from the grocery store, he'd say I was indulgent, held hostage by consumerism.

And of course, we never once celebrated a single holiday together.

Now, I watched him switch on the self-driving mode, dig a pouch of fruit snacks out of the snack box, tear it open, and hold it up to Edwina's mouth.

"Open up. Your favorite."

Edwina leaned in and bit down on it, then kissed his finger while she was at it.

Bertram tapped the tip of her nose. "Little dummy."

"Slow down, don't get the juice on your dress. I don't feel like washing it for you again tonight."

Watching them, my stomach churned.

I thought of the day I was on my period and accidentally spilled a little hot honey water on my dress,

and how Bertram looked at me with open disgust.

"You're a grown woman and you can't even hold onto something?"

"Wash it yourself. It's just one thing, don't waste water using the machine."

I'd thought he was cold by nature, that he simply didn't know how to take care of anyone.

But it turned out he could peel open fruit snacks for someone, could talk to someone in that voice you'd use to coax a child.

I stared hard at the back of his head, and it still felt too absurd to believe.

How could he be cheating?

Just last month, we were still planning to trade up to a bigger house, planning to have a baby.

He'd even railed against that cheating VP at his company, full of righteous fury.

"A man who can't control what's below his waist is no better than a dog in heat."

"People with no sense of responsibility never get far in their careers either."

And here he was, calm and unbothered, driving my car with his mistress beside him, planning to strand me out of town.

Edwina finished her fruit snacks and tugged at his sleeve, all sugar and coax.

"Bertram, once I've spent your birthday with you today, next month it's my turn!"

"You have to take me to Miami to see the ocean then, okay?"

She paused, playing at innocence.

"Oh, wait, isn't your wife's birthday next month too?"

"If you go to Miami with me and she gets upset, what then..."

Bertram gave a soft laugh. "It's fine. I'll do what I did last time. I'll tell her my mother's not feeling well and send her running over to take care of her."

Last time.

He meant six months ago, our wedding anniversary.

I'd already booked the restaurant, already had his gift ready.

Then he called, frantic, saying his mother had collapsed and he was out of town and couldn't get back, and I had to go take care of her.

Back then I was juggling work and looking after her at the same time.

The second I stepped away to make a call, she'd start whimpering that she felt awful.

But when I tried to call 911, she flat-out refused to go to the hospital, insisting she'd be fine if she just lay down at home.

So there had never been anything wrong with her.

No wonder she recovered the moment Bertram got back.

That night he held me and said marrying me was the luck of a lifetime, that I was his family's good-luck charm, the one who turned disaster into safety.

I was moved to pieces, even glad I'd been able to help him.

His whole family had been playing me for a fool.

Edwina collapsed against his shoulder with a coy little laugh.

"Bertram, you're so bad."

"But why did you have to lie this time and say you were getting surgery? That's such bad luck to say."

Bertram let out an indifferent little scoff.

"Winona's the type who really goes out of her way to be considerate."

"I tell her I'm having a minor operation, then make a point of saying she doesn't need to come. She's probably aching over me right now."

"And here's the key part. I didn't let her handle a thing for this surgery. So next time she's sick, will she even have the nerve to come bother me?"

Edwina gazed at him with pure admiration.

"Wow, that give-a-little-to-take-a-lot move is genius!"

"Of course." Bertram freed one hand and pinched her cheek. "It's a perfectly good birthday. I'm not about to let her ruin it."

"Honestly, I have a birthday every year. I just don't want to spend it with her."

"Otherwise next month when it's her birthday, wouldn't I have to buy her a gift and waste good money?"

Edwina shot him a pouty, teasing look.

"So you're this stingy? Then what about my gift next month?"

Bertram switched to a smile at once.

"Silly, I'm stingy with her. When have I ever been cheap with you?"

"That bag you kept eyeing is in the trunk. I'll give it to you when we get out."

"The money I make, I only want to spend on my Edwina."

Edwina giggled, thoroughly charmed, then pursed her lips again.

"But Bertram, I can't keep spending your money forever. I want to work hard and earn my own, be as impressive as you."

Her eyes darted. "Oh, right, that NovaTech project at your company, they say once it's done, there'll be a straight promotion and raise by year's end."

"But I'm too junior. There's no way it'd ever come to me..."