The Mistress Revealed: A Former Wife’s Tale of Discovering Her Ex-Husband’s Affair

Unveiling the betrayal, secrets, and lies after twenty-two years of marriage and nine children.

My heart was pounding.

As much as I didn’t want to know, I needed to know. I’d scoured every corner and crevice I could find to uncover this truth — for more than a year.

I took a deep breath looking for courage. I told myself I’d be okay either way. But my body wasn’t cooperating; my breath was shallow, and my stomach had formed into knots.

I was in my office, sitting on my worn leather chair. My back was stiff, my shoulders tense. The kids were all sprawled out in the family room, watching the Goonies' adventures with One-Eyed Willie's treasure. I heard the music through the closed door.

Betrayal in the Midst

About three months prior, I’d filed for divorce, and my then-husband had moved out. The kids and I were still tender — all of us trying to find our sense of and balance and normalcy within the changes.

The filing was painful but necessary.

Our last year together was slow and agonizing. His commitment to recapturing his youth was uncannily textbook. I saw the changes. His appearance, behavior, music, weight loss — the little red sports car, excessive selfies, and secretive behavior.

He was distant and cold. His actions were out of character; I no longer trusted his word.

We’d survived difficult times before. And people go through mid-life crises all the time. True, he’d been cruel and heartless to the point I couldn’t recognize him. But had he realized his mistakes and shown a sincere willingness to make it right, perhaps we could have found our way back to reconciliation.

After all, twenty-two years and nine children were some pretty compelling reasons to make us work.

And he hadn’t crossed the line of betrayal yet — or so I believed.

During that last year, he’d become a lustful teenager with a wandering eye. Devouring every curve and bare inch of skin he could find. The fruits were no longer forbidden in his mind — he cared only about satisfying inner desires.

His insatiable hunger was on my radar. But I still thought I needed to try to save us — our family.

Though, after that long year in limbo, I realized there was nothing left to save. Even though I still loved him, he wasn’t the same man I married. Our marriage was no longer healthy; it was more harmful to stay. A few friends insisted he was being unfaithful — the signs were there.

But he denied there was another woman — insisted I was acting crazy, jealous, and insecure. He simply said he no longer loved me — probably never did.

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The Mistress Unveiled

The kids were deeply absorbed in watching the captivating treasure hunt.

I sighed. “Okay, it’s time. I’m strong; I need to face this truth head-on,” I said aloud to my dog.

Chacho, our Shepard, tilted his head and looked up at me. Then, he slowly got up from his pillow and laid his chin on my knees. I rubbed his head and took a deep breath. I reminded myself I’d be okay no matter what I found.

“Here we go.”

My heart started thumping with a new intensity. I opened the photos and scanned the images, taking everything in at once.

My eyes widened, and I froze in disbelief.

A woman in a tantalizing swimsuit with a thong cut. Women. Parrot. Timeshare in Cancun. Tattoo. French manicure and pedicure.

Smiling. Young.

Proof.

My heart sank.

I finally had evidence— validation I wasn’t crazy — there was another woman. Or women. In our timeshare. With a woman wearing a thong and a provocatively placed tattoo. With perfectly polished fingers and toes.

My mind was racing — was our whole marriage a lie?

Tattoo Tales

The photo revealed the woman’s tattoo of a snake close to her bikini line. My mouth half-opened in utter disbelief.

This was new — my former husband despised tattoos.

Way back, my girlfriend had gotten a small tattoo. She had a deeply personal symbol expressing strength and resilience placed near her ankle. He always criticized it, telling me women shouldn’t get tattoos.

He said it cheapened them.

It was another of our ongoing differences of opinion.

Thong Temptations

The tall woman was wearing a taunting swimsuit that bared all.

None of this made any sense. Whenever he saw a woman walking down the white-sand beaches wearing a thong, he’d shake his head back and forth, expressing disapproval with a tsking noise. He’d go on and on — and on about the lack of respect they had for themselves.

He never wanted me to wear anything that might bring attention.

My 9-year-old son opened the office door and popped his head in.

“Mom, can we make popcorn?”

A tidal wave of emotions were surging from within.

The bitter taste of deception filled my mouth, and tears were welling up in my eyes.

I swallowed hard and stared straight ahead. “I’ll be there; just give me a little bit.” As much as I tried, my voice didn’t sound like me.

One-eyed Willy’s treasure hunt kept his focus in the family room though — thankfully, my son didn’t notice.

Polished Perfection

They say a picture tells a thousand words.

So I examined the two women posing with each other in one of the photos.

Friends, lovers? It was hard to tell. Their eyes were tired — like they’d had one too many nights out drinking until dawn. Their smiles were forced, attempting to disguise an underlying hardness in their eyes.

They were there for the party.

This is what my once devoted family man broke his vows for? After a lifetime together— I guess I just expected something grander than carefree pleasures. I’m not sure what.

Perhaps someone he’d fallen deeply and madly in love with.

Maybe I thought I’d find a photo of the two of them deeply embracing as though they were the only two people left on Earth.

Then maybe I could’ve understood why we were worth throwing away.

Tropical Timeshare Dreams

I looked closer at the next photo.

There was no doubt it was our timeshare. The tangled knots in my stomach twisted even tighter.

This was our place. Our tradition. How could he take her — them, to our resort? The people knew us there — our kids. Our family.

Heat rushed over my face, and I tried to calm myself. Steadying my breath, I picked up the phone and made some calls.

I needed to get to the bottom of this.

I found out that the three of them were all staying in the same room. Together. At our expense. It was a three-week fun-filled trip at the luxurious resort.

Island excursions, rooftop dining, clubbing, adventure parks, photo shoots, spa treatments, keepsakes, expensive gifts — the list goes on.

He wined and dined them, no expense spared.

I barely ever got a massage when we went there. He was always budget-minded on our vacations. The cheaper, the better. We had the timeshare — that was enough.

And in all honesty, it was. I didn’t need money spent on me. I needed his time and attention. Over the years, work had replaced me as his wife; he hardly had anything left for us.

Exotic Bird Beauties

I took a deeper look at the next photo.

The tall curvy woman was posing with the parrot I once held — our kids held.

We’d done the same type of photo shoot at the Cancun resort. We took turns holding the exotic bird while we smiled for our family photo.

My hands were trembling.

What did I miss? I thought our bond was unbreakable.

How could he let her hold our parrot? Let her smile for the same photographer we talked endlessly with.

How could he let her replace me?

Didn’t our marriage — our family mean anything to him?

I looked at the woman again and noticed her newly done french manicure and pedicure.

His disapproval was more than evident if I ever had anything done in a salon.

Who was this man?

Chacho gently rested his paw on my foot, and I stroked his favorite spot around the ears as tears finally began to flow. How could I ever show my face at our timeshare again? Our kids?

All at once, I felt the tangled web of anger, shame, blame, and despair.

I’d been such a fool. Slowly, realizations of unvarnished truth began sinking in. This marked the end of us. My best friend had crossed my line of no return.

Unbreakable Bonds

I called my mom sobbing.

“Mom, he’s in Cancun, woman, our timeshare.”

My words didn’t make sense, but she eventually got the point.

Mom, ever my protector, was fuming. And then, she cried with me.

Mom knew my line. She understood there was no going back from this.

She’d hung onto the hope he’d come to his senses. Realize his actions weren’t in alignment with who he’d always been.

Eventually, we hung up. I felt better. Mom had a way of making me feel like I was more than capable.

I centered myself in stillness. I attempted to let go of my emotions for the time being and examined the situation from a more logical perspective.

Bittersweet Endings

As much as I didn’t want to know, I needed to know.

“It takes courage to face the truth, but it is the only way to truly live.”

— Oprah Winfrey

And as much as it hurt, it would allow for closure. Sitting in uncertainty isn’t a way to live.

Now I knew who he was and his capability.

I understood myself well enough to know I couldn’t reconcile his deception and betrayal.

We were done — at least in my mind.

It would take my heart some time to catch up, but learning the truth gave me a way forward. At least now, I knew how our story ended; there was no more looking back.

The knots in my stomach loosened. My back straightened with conviction and resolve. This would not break me. I squared my jaw in determination as I got up from the worn leather chair.

The Goonies escapade was coming to an end, but the kids and I could watch another movie together.

Chacho and I headed into the family room.

“Who wants to watch Inside Out with me?”

My older son slightly wrinkled his forehead, “Mom were you crying?”

“Just a bit — I read a touching story. Good tears though, I smiled.”

We all headed into the kitchen. “Who wants butter on their popcorn?”

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