After My Husband Used Our Savings to Spoil His Mistress

The phone's vibration against the nightstand startled me from my thoughts. Arlo's name flashed across the screen, accompanied by a photo of us in Tuscany last year—his arm around my waist, both of us smiling at some forgotten joke.

I let it ring twice more before answering, keeping my voice deliberately husky with what he'd interpret as jet lag.

"Alex? Are you still in London?" Arlo's voice carried that practiced concern he'd perfected over years.

"Yes," I lied smoothly, adjusting the laptop on my hotel desk. The drone footage played silently—Arlo's Audi pulling into our driveway at 2:17 PM, followed by his jaunty walk to the house carrying a bottle of Dom P�rignon. "Just wrapping up some meetings."

"You sound exhausted, babe." His voice softened with false sympathy. "I've been dealing with those incompetent contractors all day myself. You wouldn't believe what they tried to charge me for."

I clicked to another angle of the footage—Arlo and Colette on our future patio, champagne flutes in hand, her head thrown back in laughter at something he'd whispered.

"Really?" I kept my tone light. "What kind of charges?"

"Complete rip-off artists," he continued, his voice gaining momentum. "I spent hours arguing with them about costs. You should see the spreadsheets I've been reviewing."

I zoomed in on Colette's hand sliding up his chest, her diamond bracelet catching the afternoon sunlight.

"That's... dedicated of you," I said, watching as he kissed her neck in the footage. "Especially since I thought you were at the office today."

"Alex, you know how much I care about saving us money." His voice took on that earnest quality he used when lying. "Besides, I want everything perfect for when you get home."

Perfect. Like the heart-shaped velvet sofa? Or the rotating circular bed?

"I appreciate that," I replied, closing the laptop. "I should get some rest. Big presentation tomorrow."

"Love you," he said quickly. "Call me when you land?"

"Of course."

I ended the call and stared at the phone for a long moment before opening my laptop again. The footage continued playing—Arlo carrying Colette over the threshold of what was supposed to be our bedroom, both of them laughing.

---

The next morning dawned clear and hot. I arrived at the construction site at precisely 9 AM, clipboard in hand, inspector's badge pinned prominently to my blazer.

"Inspector A.B.," I introduced myself to Marcus, who looked relieved to see me. "I need to discuss serious structural concerns."

Marcus led me through the house, pointing out areas where Colette had demanded changes without proper engineering approval.

"The load-bearing wall she insisted on removing?" He gestured to the master bedroom. "We've had to add temporary supports just to keep the ceiling from collapsing."

I made notes on my clipboard, occasionally glancing at Colette as she directed workers to arrange furniture in the living room.

"This is unacceptable," I said loudly enough for her to hear. "These modifications violate multiple building codes."

Colette whirled around, her face flushing. "Who are you to decide that?"

"City inspector," I replied coolly. "And based on these structural irregularities, I'm issuing an immediate Stop Work Order."

Marcus looked stunned. "But we're almost finished—"

"The building will remain closed for inspection until the owner personally addresses these violations," I continued, handing Marcus an official-looking form. "The structure may be condemned if these aren't rectified properly."

Colette's phone rang almost immediately. She snatched it up, turning away from us.

"Arlo," she hissed into the receiver. "That inspector is back, and she's shutting us down!"

I watched as her expression grew increasingly panicked.

"She says the house might be condemned! What do you mean 'handle it'? How am I supposed to—" She fell silent, listening. "Fine. Hurry up!"

She ended the call and stormed toward me. "Arlo is coming to deal with this. He'll fire you personally."

"Is that so?" I smiled thinly. "I look forward to meeting him."

---

I positioned myself in the unfinished master bedroom, standing by the window overlooking the driveway. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the floor—the same floor where Arlo had carried Colette in the drone footage.

My phone buzzed with a text message from an unknown number.

"I'm on my way. That incompetent female inspector is DONE. I'll sue the entire city if I have to."

I slipped the phone back into my pocket just as I heard tires squeal outside. Arlo's Audi careened into the driveway, narrowly missing Colette's convertible.

He emerged from the car like a man on a mission—tie loosened, face flushed with rage. Colette rushed to greet him, her hand gesturing wildly toward the house.

I watched them argue for a moment before turning back to the window, a strange calm settling over me.

The trap was set. Now I just needed Arlo to walk into it.