At 2 AM, my husband secretly packed his luggage and slipped out of our bedroom like a thief. Thirty minutes later, he sent me a photo of himself and his mistress at the airport

One offered an apology. Another acted as though he had suspected Victor’s instability for years. Arthur Bell, the third, wanted to know whether quarterly deliveries would suffer.

“No,” I told him. “The company will run better by Monday.”

At 2:30 p.m., I listened to Victor’s first recorded message.

“Claire, listen to me. This is a misunderstanding. Olivia continue reading …