Isabel stepped into her home, gifts in hand, ready to surprise Paul. But voices from their bedroom stopped her cold. A trail of women’s clothing led upstairs.
Her heart pounded as she pushed the door open—Paul lay tangled in bed with another woman. The gifts slipped from her hands.
“Oh,” Paul said lazily. “Hey, Jane, this is my wife, Isabel.” Jane smirked. “Hi.”
Fury surged through Isabel. “That’s my robe she’s wearing!” she shouted.
Paul sighed. “Relax. You said you’d be back by seven. It’s not even 5:30. Pick up your stuff and get lost for a couple of hours.”
