My husband’s mistress rang the doorbell, handed me her coat, and said: “Tell Stephen I’m here.” She thought I was the maid. In my own house. She didn’t know I had been his wife for 12 years, nor that I was the owner of the company where her father worked. Twenty minutes later, Richard walked in. By nightfall, he was packing his bags. And three weeks later, I made a call that would cost him everything…

Then I told him to pack his suitcase and leave the house that night.

Stephen argued that it was his house too.

I reminded him my name was the only one on the deed.

He went upstairs and began packing.

I sat in the kitchen drinking wine while my twelve year marriage collapsed around me.

Later that night Stephen left the house with his suitcase.

I sat alone at the kitchen table crying until midnight.

The next morning I called my closest friend Lena Grant, who arrived twenty minutes later with bagels and coffee.

I told her everything.

She grew furious as I described the necklace, the vacations, and the lies.

She also recognized the name Victor Lane.

Victor worked in the operations department of my company.

Lena advised me to handle the situation carefully so it would not affect the workplace.

That weekend I examined all our financial records and discovered hidden credit cards, thirty thousand dollars in cash advances, and a seventy five thousand dollar loan Stephen had taken using our house as collateral.

On Monday morning I contacted the best divorce lawyer in the city, Walter Griffin.