Discovering a hidden email on my husband’s iPad was the first shock. What I uncovered next left me reeling.
An email from an apartment complex addressed to Adam mentioned a water shutoff. We owned our home—he hadn’t rented in over ten years. When I called him, he dismissed it: “Must be a mistake.” But how did they have his full name?
With my best friend’s help, we tricked maintenance into giving us the apartment number. When we knocked, a young woman opened the door, looking terrified. Two small kids ran up beside her, and we heard more women inside. When we asked for Adam, she slammed the door, then watched us from the window.
Shaken, I confronted Adam. “Who are those women? Those children?” He sighed, then admitted, “I wanted a big family. I thought I could manage it without hurting anyone.” He had been living a double life, using company money to support them. Heartbroken, I took our son and left. My world had shattered. Adam didn’t stop me—he knew there was nothing left to save. I filed for divorce and full custody, choosing truth over betrayal.
