My Husband Visited His Mistress Every Week

My husband’s phone had died, so he lent me his to call a taxi for his business trip to the airport.

Once he left, I opened his trip log and froze at a new address I’d never seen before—but one he seemed to visit often:

[Baby’s Home: Riverside Residences, Apt 12B]

My chest tightened. I tapped into his historical bookings.

For the past three months, every Tuesday and Thursday, he had been taking a taxi to that same address, returning home in the dead of night. And every Tuesday and Thursday, he had lied to me about department dinners.

I took screenshots of all the records and sent them straight to my mother-in-law on Instagram:

"Mom, do you know any relatives living in Riverside Residences? Ethan goes there every week."

Five minutes later, her call came, her voice shaking.

"I’ll be right there. Don’t do anything rash."

——

The door rattled as she practically barged in, still half in her pajamas.

"Lila! Are you alright? Ethan..."

She wouldn’t meet my eyes, trembling as she glanced around.

I held up my phone, the screen glowing in her face.

"Riverside Residences, Building 3, 1502. Mom, do you know him?"

She stammered, "Ethan said the department has weekly dinners there..."

I cut her off. "Mom, which colleague’s house is called 'Baby’s Home'?"

Her hands shook, and she sank into the sofa, covering her face.

"I’ve known for a while..."

I pressed on. "Two months ago, I saw a message from someone named 'Ben' on his phone. He lied and said it was from a colleague, and I scolded him for it."

Tears streamed down her face as she looked up.

"Lila! I didn’t teach my son properly! I’m sorry! Give him a chance!"

"A chance? He’s been ‘confused’ twice a week for three months!" I pulled my hand away. "Admitting his mistake now isn’t enough. I need the truth."

She clutched my arm, panicked. "What will you do? Don’t drag this out in public!"

I laughed bitterly. "He dared to do this, and I should be afraid?"

"Don’t worry. I won’t fight or make a scene," I said, moving toward the window.

Dawn was creeping over the horizon.

"Isn’t he on a business trip? Perfect. I have time. I’m going to meet this ‘baby.’"

"No!" Mother-in-law jumped up. "You can’t go! Who knows what that woman is like? What if she—"

"What if she what?" I turned on her, calm but icy. "Can she hit me? Mom, I’m not going to fight. I just need to see. To finally let go."

Her eyes widened, like she didn’t recognize me. Finally, she gave a reluctant nod.

"Fine. You want to go? I’ll come with you. I want to see this vixen myself!"

I stopped her, raising a hand. "We’re not going to yell or hit anyone. That will only give Ethan more ammo to accuse us of being unreasonable."

"Then what? Just endure it?" She looked at me, anxious.

"Endure it?" I grabbed my phone and flipped through my contacts.

"Ethan Thompson cares about his reputation more than anything—his career, his image."

"Who are you calling?" she asked nervously.

"His company’s biggest client, Mr. Wallace," I said, calm and decisive. "His wife is passionate about charity, even working on a project about marital fidelity."

"You’re crazy!" Mother-in-law lunged for the phone. "Are you trying to destroy him?"

"He destroyed this family first!" I dodged her grasp, holding the phone tight.