I uploaded the video of my husband online, and it went viral almost instantly.

The comment section was flooded with people calling out my husband’s suspicious behavior, accusing him of deleting chat logs.

Of course, I knew the real reason behind Marcus’s business trip.

I was just curious—what kind of blind woman would fall for a greasy man like Marcus, who sports a beer belly?

Marcus shook the water off his hands and casually stepped out of the bathroom, looking completely at ease. It seemed he had already taken care of whatever the online chatter was about.

Fortunately, Marcus usually only watches female streamers on a different platform, so he wouldn’t stumble upon this video.

Soon, I received a private message, probably from the girl who had swapped seats with me.

[Quick! You need to run! I just sat next to this guy, and he's on a video call with another girl. His tone is way too suggestive.]

Of course, it had to be a girl. I replied with a simple “Thanks,” then immediately saw another attention-grabbing message pop up.

[Sorry to bother you, but is this Express 217?]

I clicked on the stranger's profile, and it was a beautiful, life-loving young girl named Chloe.

[Yes.]

I typed those two words, and it gave me the info I needed.

[Is the guy in the video named Marcus? He looks like my boyfriend.]

[Yes, I’m his wife.]

The chat bubble kept showing “typing…” on her end.

I figured the girl must have been deceived.

I glanced at Marcus. He was sitting on the couch, watching cartoons with our daughter—an image of perfect fatherly devotion.

Too bad that even fathers with daughters can still go around deceiving other people’s daughters.

A message popped up: [I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was married. Marcus told me he was divorced, that his wife left him because he couldn’t make enough money. We’ve been seeing each other for six months, and I can return every cent I’ve transferred.]

It was outrageous. Back when Marcus had just graduated from college, he was so broke that he couldn’t even afford a steamed bun without splitting it in half. I lived with him in a basement, staying up all night working on blueprints just to get our small, struggling company off the ground.

Cheating aside, how dare he tarnish my image like that? Karma will come for him.

I asked Chloe to add me on Facebook.

The girl sent me some chat screenshots, and a picture of Marcus as a sleazy, greasy, domineering man emerged. I couldn't help but feel disgusted.

Marcus finally looked at me and asked, [What’s wrong?]

I waved him off. [I’ve just been sitting in the car too long.]

[You should just stay home next time. Don’t go with these random encounters. We’re an old married couple. We can’t compete with the youthful romance of Christmas.]

The young always crave novelty, while in his eyes, our thirteen years of marriage had become a joke.

After our daughter was born, I stayed home to be a full-time mom, but I didn’t just sit around. Yoga classes and gym visits became my daily routine. I liked to think I kept myself in good shape—when I went out, people thought my daughter was my younger sister, born when my mother was much older.

So when men cheat, they can always find some strange excuse for it.

I didn’t say anything more, continuing to chat with Chloe.

After graduating from college, Chloe struggled to find her footing in the workforce and vented her frustrations on a social platform. That’s when Marcus saw her and immediately pounced. With his successful career and sob story about being abandoned by his wife, he quickly won Chloe’s sympathy.

The whole situation turned out to be just as dramatic as expected. Chloe thought she had found a caring, fatherly boyfriend, but Marcus only wanted to satisfy his own physical desires.

I set the video to private—couldn’t let it keep spreading and risk Marcus seeing it.

I was still a little shaken. Initially, I posted the video to intimidate Marcus's little lover, but now it seemed like I had accidentally sparked a whole revenge squad.

Marcus and I walked up to the hotel front desk and requested a family room.

I stood off to the side, intrigued, and asked, "Didn't you book a room in advance?"

"No," he replied casually, "I thought it would be easier to handle the check-in once we arrived."

I didn't say anything else. I knew the couple's room we had originally booked was just 500 meters away from this hotel.

Our daughter insisted that Marcus take her out to play the next day. I purposefully said, "Sweetheart, be good. Daddy has work tomorrow. How about Mommy takes you instead?"

Marcus lowered his gaze and said, "It's fine. There was a little mishap. The client can't make it tomorrow. I'll spend the day with you both."

The mishap, of course, was my doing. Step one of my plan was already in motion.

The next morning, Marcus took our daughter to the beach. I couldn't help but admire his effort to act like a loving father after all these years. Seeing our daughter’s bright smile, a pang of sadness hit me. She had no idea her father would soon be gone from her life.

The following day, Marcus said he had to meet with a client and left the hotel, only to return late in the evening.

Chloe sent me a message: "It’s done. He bought it."

I greeted Marcus with a warm smile, taking his coat as he walked in. "You must be tired. Thank you for today."

He was clearly troubled, simply responding with a distracted, "Mm."

Over the next few days, Marcus stuck close to me and our daughter. He suddenly became more attentive, treating me with newfound care.

Back home, a few days passed, and Marcus still hadn’t made a move.

I couldn’t hold back any longer and texted Chloe: "Can you make him tell me already?"

Chloe replied, sounding defeated: "I’ll try again tonight. Marcus is such a hypocrite, always manipulating me."

That evening, Marcus came home reeking of alcohol. "I want a divorce!" he declared.

I suppressed the overwhelming joy inside and put on an exaggerated act of sorrow. "Marcus, what have I done wrong? What are you talking about?"

Marcus shoved me away. "Let me be blunt with you. I’m seeing someone else, and she's pregnant with a boy. Not like you, who only gave me a useless daughter."

I once naively thought Marcus truly loved our daughter.

He would always go on about how adorable our daughter was and how he was going to be a doting father.

Though he often forgot to prepare her milk or dress her properly, I convinced myself it was just the carelessness of a new dad.

That was until one evening when Marcus was out at a dinner. I called him, but forgot to hang up. I overheard him say, "I envy you. You have twin sons, unlike me, just one daughter. My wife insists on waiting until our daughter starts kindergarten before having a second child. Now, I have to pretend to be a doting father and serve the two of them. Once I have a son, I’m divorcing her."

Our daughter was only a year old at the time. I thought about divorce, but found I couldn’t go through with it.

Marcus’ company was half of what it was because of me. I had a significant stake in it, and if we divorced, Marcus would never agree to it.

Marcus longed for our daughter to start kindergarten and kept pressing me about having a second child. I deflected him with every excuse.

All these years, I allowed Marcus’ little behaviors to slide. He was pretending, and so was I. We were both waiting for the other to bring up divorce.

Now, I had finally gotten what I’d been waiting for—Marcus bringing it up himself.

The next morning, after Marcus had sobered up, I laid the divorce papers and the recording from the previous night in front of him.

Marcus gritted his teeth, staring at the papers for a long time, especially the part about property division. Finally, he muttered, "Half is fine. I’ve got someone else now."

I watched with a sense of satisfaction as Marcus signed the papers, packed his things, and left. Once I endured the one-month cooling-off period, I’d be free from this disgusting man for good.