Marriage Crisis: When I Found Out He Had A Mistress

A few days flew by, and I finally got my chance.

After several days of normal routines, York told me once again that he had to work late. In the past, I would have thought nothing of it—it was just work. But since I had seen his phone, I couldn’t shake the feeling that these late nights were becoming something else entirely.

So, one evening, I hired a car and waited outside York’s office building.

As expected, right after quitting time, his car pulled out of the underground garage, almost as if he was racing against the clock.

My heart ached again. I instructed the driver to follow him.

Fifteen minutes later, his car stopped in front of a nondescript hotel. York hurried inside, practically running.

I was consumed by curiosity. Who is this woman, the one who makes him rush out of work so eagerly?

With a sympathetic glance from the driver, I paid and got out. By the time I made it inside, York was nowhere to be seen.

I approached the hotel front desk, steeling myself to ask the young receptionist which room the man in the gray coat had gone to.

The receptionist eyed me skeptically and didn’t answer. I felt a flush of embarrassment as if I were the one in the wrong.

I tried again. “Please, can you tell me which room Mr. Portman went to?”

The receptionist’s patience was wearing thin. “Sorry, we can’t disclose guest information.”

“But he’s my… husband.”

Her expression remained unchanged as if she was either used to this kind of situation or had guessed my identity. Her response was a slight shake of the head.

Tears threatened to spill again. Am I really going to be stuck waiting in the lobby while York is with another woman in this hotel?

“Please, help me out,” I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper.

The receptionist, with a hint of sympathy in her eyes, leaned in and spoke softly, “If you suspect he’s involved in illegal activities, you can call the police. They will get the room number for you. After all, we have to cooperate with law enforcement.”

With that, she gave a professional smile and returned to her duties.

I gave her a grateful look, pulled out my phone, and dialed. “Hello, I need to report someone engaging in illegal activity at Kingswood Hotel.”