Part 1After My Husband Cheated, I Booked Their Hotel Room And Filled Their “Body Oil” With Super Glue

At the high-end Ritz-Carlton Hotel, two people were carried out on stretchers, like conjoined twins, unable to part even as they were lifted into the ambulance.

And all of it was my doing.

I casually called Andy as he was struggling to contain his pain. “Babe, I’m in a meeting right now,” he groaned.

I gently reminded him, “Since you two love each other so much, why not stay together forever?”

The first sign of trouble came while I was away on a business trip to South Beach, Miami. Andy had posted a photo on his Instagram Stories.

His caption read: “Clear skies, gentle breeze, the waters in Hawaii are especially blue today.”

While I was working, he was on his dream vacation, spending his days in Hawaii. In the picture, he was with a group of friends and coworkers.

The photo looked innocent enough, but something about it stood out to me.

He had been wearing the swim trunks I bought him, but in this photo, they were mysteriously replaced with a new pair.

After some digging, I noticed another photo he had posted five days prior—this time, a picture of his meal. And in the corner, the edge of a woman’s bikini was visible.

It was the same swimwear—held together with a safety pin because it didn’t quite fit.

What kind of flirtatious code was this?

To confirm my suspicions, I asked Andy about it when he got home. He didn’t stutter or hesitate; he had a story ready.

“Babe, I’ve got a funny one for you. Remember those trunks you got me? Well, while I was swimming, I guess I didn’t tie them tight enough, and they got washed away!”

He slapped his thigh and laughed like he was telling a joke. He always did that when he wanted to lighten the mood.

“I almost flashed the whole beach! Had to run and buy a new pair.”

I watched him perform this act, completely detached, on our fifth wedding anniversary—a date he had completely forgotten.

I didn’t even bother playing along with his charade.

When he realized I wasn’t laughing, he slung his arm around my shoulder. “Cassie, I’ll take better care of the stuff you buy me. Don’t be mad, okay?”

He puckered his lips at me, something I used to find cute back when we were dating.

But now, staring at Andy’s greasy face, regret flooded me.

When he was chasing me, he had been the least attractive of all my suitors, but I’d chosen him because he seemed kind and grounded, with a career as solid as mine.

I thought picking someone less conventionally handsome would mean he’d stay loyal and committed. Turns out, a man’s flaws don’t depend on his looks.

Later that afternoon, I got called into work for a night shift. I went down to the garage to get the car. Andy and I had our own vehicles, but mine was in for maintenance, so I took his.

My instincts kicked in the moment I sat in the driver's seat.

The passenger seat had been reclined, pushed back about 15 degrees more than usual.

Someone else had been in our car.

We bought this SUV when we were preparing to start a family, thinking it would be perfect for the baby.

The air inside still had a faint, fishy odor, hinting at something inappropriate that had happened in that seat.

Scanning the seat closely, I noticed a piece of black fabric wedged in the gap by the armrest.

I pulled it out—lace, delicate, and suspiciously sexy.

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. How thoughtful of them.

I pocketed the evidence without confronting him.

A few days later, I found another bikini stuffed in the same spot.

This time, though, something was different.

The faint smell of perfume lingered on the fabric. I recognized it immediately—it was a summer scent from a designer perfume brand I’d tried while window shopping at the mall.

This clue led me to question several suspects—his female coworkers and old friends.

Eventually, I realized it was Payne Dalton, his goddaughter, who wore the same scent.

When I saw her, she clung to my arm like always, her voice sweet as ever.

“Godmother Cassie, did you miss me? I’m job hunting right now. We should grab lunch sometime soon!”

I finally noticed how much she’d grown since I first met her. The once-skinny high school girl had blossomed into a tall, curvy woman.

I’d heard she’d even had a breast augmentation done earlier this year.

The bikini I’d found was exactly her size.

Payne was a scholarship student Andy and I had supported for four years, helping her through college.

She had always seemed like the perfect student—smart, charming, and determined to make something of herself.

Was she really that naive? Despite all her education, did she still believe that money was the only way to “make it” in life?