My Husband Was Sleeping With His Secretary in the Back of His Car — I Found Her Lace Under the Seat and Said Nothing, Just Mailed It to Her Husband With Four Words, and Hours Later an Envelope Arrived at the Hospital That Exposed the Secret He’d Buried for Six Years

Inside I placed the black lace and a short note, four lines, no venom in them, because venom was beside the point: Your wife forgot this in my husband’s car.

I thought you’d want it returned. I included the make, the model, and the license plate of the car, and nothing else.

I did not know Andrew.

I did not know whether he would rage, or weep, or refuse to believe it.

I only knew that he had a right to the truth I had, and that a woman who wanted to move carefully needed allies, and that the husband of my husband’s mistress was the one person on earth whose interests ran exactly parallel to mine.

I have thought since about how strange it was, that the first move I made was not against Mark at all, but toward a stranger — a quiet act of solidarity with the only other person being lied to the same way I was.