Wife Uncovers Husband's Affair

Look at the way she talks; as if it's not quite normal for me, the lady of the house, to be here. I crossed my arms, feeling slightly taken aback. "Gwen, what brings you here so early in the morning?"

Perhaps sensing the tension in my voice, she replied with a sheepish grin, "Oh, I'm just here to pick up Sarah for her ballet practice. It's on my way to the studio."

My eyes caught a glimpse of her bag, which revealed a pink Hello Kitty bottle that looked exactly like the one I had brought back for Sarah from London.

"For an adult, you've got quite the playful spirit, Gwen."

She shifted her bag uneasily and glanced towards the door. "Chelsea, could you have Sarah come out? I've got more students to pick up today."

Thinking my daughter was probably still asleep, I gestured for Gwen to come in and wait. Just then, a loud alarm went off from the children’s room, and Sarah dashed out, fully dressed with her hair neatly done.

I stood in shock, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was only 8:10. She usually didn't get up until around 8:30. Since when did she become an early bird?

"Morning, Mom, morning, Miss Spencer."

Her young voice rang out, and I didn’t have time to ponder it. I quickly grabbed her little backpack and slipped it onto her shoulders. Then I rushed to the kitchen to grab some milk and a croissant, stuffing them into her bag as she headed out the door.

"Gwen, didn't you bring juice for me today?"

Sarah asked, looking up at Gwen with expectant eyes. Gwen, looking flustered, tugged her towards the elevator. "Uh... I was in such a rush this morning, I completely forgot. I'll bring it next time."

Her guilty expression didn't escape my notice. I quickly changed into something more presentable and discreetly followed Gwen to the dance studio in an old BMW I barely used.

Sarah was at the far end, preparing to change into her ballet outfit and shoes. I immediately spotted a problem!

Last month, for her birthday, I had given her a limited-edition silk dance outfit, which was quite an investment. But now, she had on something rough-textured and dull—a cheap imitation! As for her dance shoes, she winced as she held the stiff, uncomfortable pair, obviously hesitant to wear them.

When she removed her socks, I saw her toes were covered in blisters—red and inflamed!

Throughout practice, Gwen was relentless, treating my daughter harshly with verbal and even physical abuse. She kept swatting her on the back and even kicked her on the backside and thighs.

Barely containing my rage, I recorded five minutes of Gwen's mistreatment on my phone. Then I burst through the studio door, marched up to Gwen, and slapped her hard across the face, leaving her cheek instantly swollen with five distinct marks.

"Who are you? Why are you hitting my mom?" A young girl shouted, rushing over to shield Gwen.

And she was wearing the very dance outfit I had bought for Sarah!

I picked up my daughter, who was miserably curled up behind me, and glared at Gwen. "If you ever mess with my daughter again, you'll regret it!"