…
Maybe he just needs some time.
But Sarah felt that it wasn’t about age.
Her intuition, honed by years of working with people, told her that something serious was going on.
That evening, the family gathered for dinner, but the atmosphere was tense.
Their 17-year-old son, Matthew, talked about basketball practice.
Emily complained about her math teacher, and Wayne was silent, glancing at his phone from time to time.
“Dad, are you listening to me?” Matthew asked.
I’m talking about the championship finals.
Sure, son, Wayne replied distractedly.
That’s great.
Sarah shot him a sharp look.
Wayne, could you put your phone away during dinner? Sorry, it’s work, he muttered, but reluctantly put the device in his pocket.
After dinner, when the children had gone to do their homework, Sarah decided to ask her husband directly about his behavior.
Wayne, we need to talk, she said, sitting down next to him on the living room couch.
About what? He avoided her gaze.
About what’s going on with you.
You’ve been different.
You’re always on your phone.
You come home late.
And when we’re together, you seem like you’re thinking about something else.
Wayne felt his heart beat faster.
Just a lot of work.
Sales are down.
The boss is putting pressure on me.
You know how it is.
In 17 years, I’ve seen you under stress, but this is different, Sarah insisted.
You’re avoiding me, avoiding intimacy.
If there are problems, we can work through them together.
Wayne stood up and paced the room.
Sarah, everything’s fine.
I’m just going through a difficult period.
Give me some time.
How much time? She asked.
A month? Two, a year? I’m your wife, Wayne.
I have a right to know what’s going on.
Not everything needs to be discussed, he replied sharply.
Sometimes people just go through difficult times.
Sarah felt a familiar feeling of anxiety rising in her chest.
Are you cheating on me? Wayne froze.
No, he said quietly.
I’m not cheating on you.
Technically, that was true, but there was something in his voice that made Sarah even more suspicious.
The next day, Sarah decided to take a look at the family finances.
She had always trusted Wayne to manage the budget, but now she wanted to check everything.
Opening the bank statements for the last 3 months, she discovered several strange expenses.
There were withdrawals for $500, 700, sometimes $1,000 marked cash or miscellaneous expenses.
The amounts were withdrawn at different times, but always on weekdays when Wayne was supposed to be at work.
What could this be? Sarah wondered as she studied the numbers.
The total amount for the 3 months was over $8,000.
That was money they could have spent on home repairs or put toward college for the children.
She tried to think of what Wayne could have spent that kind of money on.
He didn’t gamble.
He didn’t drink.
He didn’t buy expensive things.
His wardrobe and hobbies remained the same.
Where was the money going? That evening, when Wayne came home, Sarah decided to ask him about it carefully.
“Honey, I’ve been looking at our expenses.
We’ve been spending quite a lot of cash lately.
” Wayne tensed up.
“It’s business expenses.
Sometimes I have to pay suppliers in cash.
8,000 in 3 months.
” Sarah was surprised.
“That’s a lot for business expenses.
” I can’t explain everything,” Wayne said, heading for the stairs.
“Business is complicated, but Sarah knew he was lying.
Over the years they had been together, she had learned to recognize his insincerity.
Wayne always touched his neck when he wasn’t being truthful and avoided direct eye contact.
That night, lying in bed next to her husband, Sarah made a decision.
She couldn’t live in the dark any longer.
If Wayne wouldn’t tell her the truth, she would find it out herself.
The next day, during her lunch break, Sarah found several private investigators in their area online.
She never thought she would resort to this, but she felt she had no choice.
Mark Thompson, a private investigator with an office in downtown Westfield, seemed like the best fit.
His website said he specialized in family matters and had experience working with the police.
Sarah called and made an appointment for the next day.
When she hung up, her hands were shaking.
She was doing something that could change her life forever.
“What am I doing?” she whispered to herself.
But deep down, she knew that the truth, no matter how painful, was better than uncertainty.
That evening, watching Wayne avoid conversation again and constantly check his phone, Sarah became more determined.
Tomorrow, she would meet with the detective and begin searching for answers to the questions that had been tormenting her for weeks.
She didn’t know that this search would lead to discoveries that would not only destroy her marriage, but change her entire family’s life forever.
Mark Thompson’s office was located on the second floor of an old building in downtown Westfield, next to a law firm and an accounting firm.
Sarah climbed the creaky stairs, clutching her printed bank statements in her hand.
Her heart was beating so loudly that she was sure it could be heard throughout the neighborhood.
Mark Thompson was a middle-aged man with graying temples and attentive brown eyes.
His office was simple and functional, a metal desk, a few chairs, a filing cabinet, and a wall covered with diplomas and photographs from his time in the police force.
“Mrs.
Collins, please have a seat,” he said, pointing to a chair across from his desk.
You mentioned on the phone that you were having problems with your husband.
Sarah sat down, placing her purse on her lap.
“I never thought I’d come to this, but I need to know the truth.
” “Tell me everything from the beginning,” Mark asked, picking up his notepad.
“What made you decide to hire a private investigator?” Sarah took a deep breath.
“My husband, Wayne, has changed.
He’s become secretive, constantly checking his phone, coming home late, and most importantly, I found strange expenses in our bank statements.
She handed the documents to the detective.
Mark studied the figures carefully, making notes from time to time.
$8,300 in 3 months, he said.
That’s quite a large amount for cash expenses.
Did your husband explain what the money was for? He says it’s work expenses, but I know he’s lying, Sarah replied.
In 17 years of marriage, I’ve learned to recognize when he’s not being sincere.
Mark nodded.
Tell me about his job.
Where does he work? What is his usual daily routine? He’s a sales manager at Premium Auto.
He used to have a regular schedule, working from 9 to 6:00, sometimes staying an hour or two late.
But in recent months, he’s been leaving early in the morning and coming home very late.
How long has this been going on? 3 months, maybe four.
At first, I thought it was temporary, but his behavior has only gotten worse.
Mark wrote down the information and looked up.
Mrs.
Collins, I have to ask you straight.
Do you suspect him of cheating? Sarah paused.
To be honest, I don’t know.
He avoids physical intimacy, but it’s not like classic cheating.
He doesn’t smell like other women’s perfume.
He doesn’t buy gifts that he could give to another woman.
It’s something else.
Okay, I’ll keep an eye on him for a week.
I’ll see where he goes, who he meets, how he spends his time.
My fee is $500 a day plus expenses.
Sarah nodded.
I’m willing to pay.
I need to know the truth.
2 days later, Mark began his surveillance.
He parked his unremarkable sedan across from the car dealership and watched Wayne.
The first day brought no surprises.
Wayne worked until 6:00, then went to the gym, and then home.
But on the second day, the picture changed.
At 4:00 in the afternoon, Wayne left the dealership and drove in the opposite direction from his home.
Mark followed him, keeping his distance.
Wayne stopped at a modest motel on the outskirts of town.
“Interesting,” the detective muttered as he took photos.
Wayne spent about 2 hours at the motel, then left and drove to a shopping center where he entered an expensive men’s boutique.
Mark watched as Wayne selected clothes, not the usual shirts and pants, but something more colorful.
Half an hour later, he came out with several bags.
On the third day of surveillance, Mark decided to get closer.
He learned that the motel was called Roadside Rest and had a reputation as a place where people who didn’t want to publicize their relationships met.
The manager, an elderly woman with suspicious eyes, agreed to talk for $20.
That guy? Yes, he’s a regular customer, she said, glancing at Wayne’s photo.
He rents room 12 every Tuesday and Thursday.
Always pays cash.
Is he alone? Mark asked.
No, he has visitors, different people, she lowered her voice.
To be honest, I don’t care what goes on there as long as they pay and don’t cause any trouble.
Mark felt the picture coming together.
Are these visitors women? The administrator smiled.
Not always.
On Thursday, Mark watched the motel again.
Wayne arrived at 4 and 20 minutes later, a black BMW pulled up outside room 12.
A well-dressed man in his 30s got out of the car.
Mark took several photos and wrote down the car’s license plate number.
An hour later, the man left the room and drove away.
Half an hour later, Wayne appeared, but he looked different.
His hair was styled differently, and his clothes were more form-fitting and bright.
Mark realized he was witnessing something bigger than a simple affair.
Running the BMW’s license plate through his police contacts, Mark found out that the car was registered to Brandon Reed, a 28-year-old bank employee from downtown.
He was single and lived alone in an expensive apartment.
On the fifth day of surveillance, Mark decided to follow Wayne after he left the motel.
He drove to another part of town and stopped near an office building.
Going inside, the detective discovered that the Elite Encounters Agency was located on the fourth floor.
“I need information about your services,” Mark said to the secretary, a young woman with bright makeup.
“We provide companions for business meetings and social events,” she replied in a professional tone.
“We only employ educated, attractive people.
” “Do men also work as companions?” Mark asked.
Of course, we have employees of both sexes for different types of clients.
Mark asked for a price list.
Prices ranged from $300 to $1,000 per meeting, depending on the duration and additional services.
On Friday, Mark met Sarah at a small cafe on the other side of town.
She looked exhausted with dark circles under her eyes.
“I’ve hardly slept all week,” she admitted.
“What did you find out?” Mark took out a folder with photos and documents.
Mrs.
Collins, what I’m about to tell you will be difficult to hear.
Your husband works for an escort agency.
Sarah turned pale.
What does that mean? He provides intimate services to clients for money.
I’ve seen him meet men at a motel and then go to the elite encounters office.
Men? Sarah asked, her voice trembling.
You mean your husband is probably providing services to male clients.
One of them is Brandon Reed, a bank employee.
Judging by the frequency of their meetings, he’s a regular client.
Sarah covered her face with her hands.
That’s impossible.
Wayne can’t be gay.
We have two children and have been married for 17 years.
Mrs.
Collins, sexual orientation is a complicated thing.
Many people hide their true preferences because of social pressure, family obligations, or fear.
But why couldn’t he tell me? Why did he choose this? Sarah pointed to the photos.
Maybe he didn’t understand his own feelings, or he was afraid of losing his family.
Money could have been a way to cope with his inner conflict.
Sarah stared at the photos of her husband leaving the motel.
In one of them, he was standing next to Brandon Reed, and they were both smiling.
“How much does he make doing this?” she asked quietly.
“Judging by the agency’s price list and the frequency of the meetings, about $2,000 a month, maybe more.
” “And I thought he was spending our money.
” Sarah smiled bitterly.
“It turns out he was earning it.
” Mark leaned toward her.
“Mrs.
Collins, what are you going to do with this information? Sarah was silent for a long time, staring out the cafe window.
I don’t know.
I need time to think it over.
Would you like me to continue surveillance? Maybe there’s something else we need to find out.
No, Sarah replied firmly.
I know enough.
Thank you for your work.
She paid the detective and took the folder with the materials.
On the way home, her thoughts were racing.
17 years of marriage, two children, plans for the future.
It had all been built on a lie.
At home, Sarah locked herself in her bedroom and looked through the photos again.
In some of them, Wayne looked happy.
She hadn’t seen him like that in years.
That was the most painful part, realizing that he might never have been truly happy with her.
That evening, Wayne came home at his usual time.
At dinner, he was more talkative than usual, telling the children about work and joking.
Sarah watched him, now noticing things she hadn’t noticed before.
The tension in his shoulders, the forced smile, the absent gaze.
“How’s work?” she asked when the children had left.
“Fine,” Wayne replied.
“Sales are going well.
” “What about those business expenses?” Wayne froze.
What do you mean? The 8,000 you’re spending in cash, is that still business expenses? Sarah, we’ve already discussed this.
No, Wayne, we haven’t discussed anything.
You’ve been brushing off my questions.
She stood up and walked over to the window.
I know you’re lying.
The question is how long this will continue.
Wayne felt a chill run down his spine.
What are you talking about? About how our marriage is falling apart and you’re pretending everything is fine? About how you’ve become a different person and I don’t even know who you really are? Sarah, I’m the same man you married.
No, Sarah interrupted.
That man didn’t lie to me every day.
That man didn’t avoid me like the plague.
That man didn’t disappear for hours without explanation.
Wayne lowered his head.
It’s complicated, Sarah.
You wouldn’t understand.
Try to explain.
Maybe I’ll understand more than you think.
For a moment, it seemed as if Wayne was about to speak.
But then he shook his head.
I can’t.
Not now.
Then when? Sarah asked, turning to him.
When you’re ready to be honest with me.
I don’t know, Wayne replied quietly.
Sarah nodded.
Then I’ll find the answers to my questions.
myself.
That night, they went to bed without saying a word to each other.
Sarah lay staring at the ceiling, thinking about the decision she would have to make tomorrow.
Confrontation or divorce, fight for her family, or admit defeat.
Next to her, Wayne was also awake, knowing that the time for lies was coming to an end.
He could feel the walls he had so carefully built beginning to crumble.
And what frightened him most was that he didn’t know what would be left when they finally collapsed.
Saturday began as usual.
Family breakfast, weekend plans, the children discussing their plans with friends.
But Sarah saw it all as if through glass.
The folder with the photos lay in her bedroom, and every glance at Wayne reminded her of what she now knew.
“Mom, are you okay?” Emily asked, noticing that her mother had been absent-mindedly stirring her coffee for 5 minutes.
I’m fine, honey, Sarah replied, trying to smile.
Just tired from work.
Matthew glanced at his parents.
Maybe you two should go out somewhere like you used to.
Wayne tensed.
We’ll discuss it later.
Yes, we will, added Sarah with a meaningful look.
After breakfast, the children left to see their friends and silence fell over the house.
Wayne was about to go to the garage to work on his tools, but Sarah stopped him.
Wayne, we need to talk.
Seriously, talk.
Sarah, if this is about money again, it’s not about money, she interrupted.
It’s about the truth.
Sit down.
Something in her tone made Wayneary.
He slowly sat down on the sofa, studying his wife’s face.
“I know,” Sarah said simply.
“What do you know?” “Everything.
The Roadside Rest Motel, Elite Encounters, Brandon Reed.
” She listed the names, watching her husband’s face grow paler.
Wayne closed his eyes.
“How did you private investigator? I hired him a week ago.
” Sarah took out a folder and placed it on the coffee table.
Do you want to see the evidence? No, Wayne replied quietly.
I believe you.
There was a long pause.
Sarah waited for an explanation, an apology, any words, but Wayne remained silent, staring at the floor.
Why? She finally asked.
17 years of marriage, two children, shared plans.
Why did you choose this? Wayne raised his head.
His eyes were full of pain.
You wouldn’t understand.
Try to explain.
I’m not a little girl who believes in fairy tales anymore.
It started I don’t know how to explain it.
I always felt that something was wrong with me, even in school, in college, but I thought it would pass.
That marriage would fix everything.
Are you talking about your orientation? Wayne nodded.
I loved you, Sarah.
I still do, but not the way a husband should love his wife.
I thought I could force myself.
That time would change everything.
And instead, you started prostituting yourself.
It’s not prostitution, Wayne replied sharply.
It’s more complicated than that.
Explain to me the difference between getting money for sex and prostitution.
Wayne stood up and paced around the room.
I didn’t plan it.
It was just a few months ago.
I was at a bar and I met this guy.
We got talking and he told me about the agency.
He said it was run by educated people, that it wasn’t street prostitution, and you decided to give it a try.
I was desperate, Sarah.
I felt like I was suffocating coming home every day and pretending that everything was fine, that I was happy.
It was unbearable.
So, it was easier to lie to me and the kids.
I didn’t want to hurt anyone.
I thought I could control the situation, that no one would find out.
Sarah smiled bitterly.
control.
You meet men for money and your wife and kids don’t even know who you really are.
You call that control? I know how it sounds.
How does it sound? It sounds like betrayal.
I lived with a man I didn’t know for 17 years.
Wayne sat back down, burying his head in his hands.
I’m sorry.
I didn’t know what else to do.
You could have told me the truth.
We could have gone to a family therapist.
found a way to work through it.
And what would you have done if I told you I was gay? That our marriage was a mistake? Sarah thought for a moment.
I don’t know, but we could have tried to find a solution.
Instead, you chose to lie.
I was afraid of losing the children.
I was afraid they would despise me.
And now, do you think this situation is better? Wayne looked at her.
What are you going to do? I don’t know, Sarah replied honestly.
I need time to think things through.
Are you going to tell the children? Not yet, but sooner or later they will find out.
In a small town like this, secrets don’t stay secret for long.
Wayne nodded.
I understand.
Tell me about Brandon Reed, Sarah asked.
Is he just a client? Wayne froze.
What do you want to know? The truth? Is there something between you besides money? Sarah, I have a right to know.
You’ve been cheating on me for months.
I want to understand what I’m dealing with.
Brandon isn’t just a client.
We’ve become close.
He understands me.
So, you’re in love with him? I don’t know.
Maybe.
It’s complicated.
Sarah felt something break inside her.
So, while I was worried about our marriage, you were falling in love with another man.
It’s not that simple.
It’s very simple to me.
You betrayed our family.
You betrayed me, the children, everything we built together.
I didn’t want to.
It doesn’t matter what you wanted.
What matters is what you did.
Wayne stood up.
Maybe I should leave.
Live somewhere else until we figure out what to do next.
Don’t you dare blame this on me, Sarah snapped.
Don’t you dare pretend I’m kicking you out.
This is your choice.
Your decisions got us into this situation.
I’m just trying to make things easier for everyone.
Easier.
You think it’ll be easier for the kids if their father suddenly disappears? They’ll blame themselves.
Think they did something wrong.
Then what do you suggest? Sarah thought for a moment.
Nothing yet.
I need time.
But I want you to stop seeing your clients immediately.
Okay.
Wayne agreed.
I’ll call the agency and tell them I’m not working anymore.
And Brandon, too, no meetings, no conversations.
Wayne hesitated.
Sarah, it’s not that simple.
Why? Because you’re in love with him.
Because he helps me understand myself.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I can be myself.
By destroying our family, I didn’t want to destroy the family.
I wanted to find a way to live with myself.
Did you think about me? About how I feel living with a husband who doesn’t love me.
I love you, Sarah.
Just not like that.
Not like you love him.
Wayne didn’t answer, but his silence spoke louder than words.
Sarah stood up and walked over to the window.
You know what hurts me the most? It’s not that you’re gay.
It’s not that our marriage was a mistake.
It’s that you didn’t trust me with the truth.
For 17 years, I was your wife, your friend, your support, and you chose strangers over me.
I was afraid.
Afraid of what? That I’d leave you? That I’d despise you? Maybe I would have been upset.
Maybe it would have been difficult.
But we would have worked it out together.
Now it’s too late.
Yes, Sarah agreed.
Now it’s too late.
They stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
17 years of marriage ended not with a scandal or shouting, but with a quiet admission that their life together had been built on lies.
What are we going to tell the kids? Wayne asked.
Nothing for now.
Give me some time to think about how to explain the situation to them.
What if they ask why I moved out? Who said you’re moving out? I was thinking, “Don’t think.
Until we decide what to do next, you’re staying here.
The children shouldn’t have to suffer because of your decisions any more than they have to.
” Wayne nodded.
“Okay, I’ll stay in the guest room.
” “And one more thing,” Sarah added.
“I want to see him.
” Brandon, “Why? I want to look at the man who destroyed my family.
” Sarah, he didn’t destroy our family.
I did that myself.
Maybe.
But I still want to see him.
He has a right to know that the wife of one of his clients knows about their relationship.
That’s a bad idea.
Maybe, but it’s my decision.
Wayne realized it was useless to argue.
When? Tomorrow.
Arrange a meeting with him.
Tell him it’s important.
What if he doesn’t want to? Then I’ll find him myself.
After all, I know where he works.
Wayne took out his phone.
“Okay, I’ll call him in front of me,” Sarah added.
“I want to hear the conversation.
” Wayne dialed the number.
After a few rings, a male voice answered, “Hi, Brandon.
It’s Wayne.
” “Hey, I wasn’t expecting your call on the weekend.
Want to meet up?” “Not really.
I need to talk to you.
It’s important.
Did something happen?” You could say that.
My wife knows about us.
There was a long pause.
What does she know? Everything about the agency, about our meetings, about what’s going on between us.
Damn.
How did she find out? It’s a long story.
The important thing is that she wants to meet you.
Me? Why? I don’t know.
She said it’s important.
Wayne, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
Maybe I should just disappear for a while.
She’ll find you anyway.
It’s better to meet her on good terms.
Okay.
When and where? Tomorrow evening.
A neutral place.
The Old Town Cafe at 7:00.
I’ll be there.
Wayne hung up and looked at Sarah.
That’s done.
Good.
She replied.
Tomorrow I’ll find out what kind of person your friend is.
Sarah, please don’t do anything you’ll regret.
I’ve already done something I regret.
I married a man I didn’t know.
The rest of the day passed in tense silence.
The children came home cheerful and full of excitement, oblivious to the atmosphere in the house.
At dinner, Wayne and Sarah pretended everything was normal.
But they both knew that these were the last hours of their life as a family.
That evening, after the children had gone to bed, Sarah sat in her bedroom looking at photos from the family album.
The wedding, the birth of the children, family vacations.
It all now seemed like a play in which she had played the leading role without knowing the script.
In the guest room, Wayne lay awake thinking about how tomorrow his wife would meet the man who would become more than just a client to him, and he had no idea how it would end.
Sunday began with a heavy atmosphere in the Collins household.
The children sensed the tension between their parents, although no one spoke openly about it.
Emily tried several times to strike up a conversation, but received only one-word answers.
Matthew left for a friend’s house for the day, saying he had to study for a test.
Sarah spent the morning preparing for the meeting.
She didn’t know what to expect from Brandon Reed, but she was determined to look him in the eye and tell him exactly what she thought.
Wayne, meanwhile, paced nervously around the house, checking his phone periodically.
“Maybe this is a bad idea,” he asked his wife for the eenth time.
“Nothing good will come of it.
” “For you, maybe?” Sarah replied without looking up from the mirror where she was fixing her makeup.
“But I need to do this.
” At 6, they left the house.
The drive to the cafe took 10 minutes, but every second seemed like an eternity.
Wayne tried to speak several times, but Sarah remained silent, staring intently out the window.
The Oldtown Cafe was located in the historic center of Westfield in a 19th century building with brick walls and large windows.
On Sundays, it was not very crowded.
A few couples at tables, a student with a laptop in the corner, an elderly woman with a book by the window.
Brandon Reed was already waiting for them at a table in the far corner.
Sarah saw him and immediately understood why Wayne had been so taken with him.
He was a young man of about 28, well-groomed, wearing an expensive suit with attentive dark eyes and a confident bearing.
He stood up when they approached and smiled uncertainly.
“Mrs.
Collins,” he said, extending his hand.
“Brandon Reed.
” Sarah shook his hand, noting his firm grip and well manicured nails.
Just Sarah.
They sat down at the table.
The waitress came to take their order, but the atmosphere was so tense that they all settled for coffee.
So Sarah began when they were alone.
You’re the man who sleeps with my husband for money.
Brandon pald.
It’s not quite like that.
How is it then? There’s more to our relationship than just business, Brandon replied, glancing at Wayne.
I don’t consider it prostitution.
Then how do you consider it? A relationship? Yes, it started through an agency, but now it’s something more.
Sarah smiled bitterly.
A relationship? You’re dating a married man, the father of two children, and you call that a relationship? I know the situation is complicated.
complicated? Sarah interrupted him.
This isn’t a complicated situation.
It’s the destruction of a family.
Brandon straightened up.
I didn’t destroy your family, Mrs.
Sarah.
The problems in your marriage existed long before I met Wayne.
How would you know that? Because we talk a lot.
Wayne told me about his feelings, about how hard it was for him to pretend all these years.
Sarah looked at her husband.
So, you’re discussing our family life with him? Sarah, that’s not true.
Wayne began, but Brandon interrupted him.
Yes, we talk about your marriage.
And you know what? Wayne has been unhappy for many years.
He’s not living his own life.
He’s trying to be someone he’s not.
And you’re helping him find himself.
Of course, Sarah asked venomously.
Yes, I am.
For the first time in his life, he can be himself for money.
Money has nothing to do with it.
I’m willing to support him if he decides to leave you.
There was silence.
Sarah slowly put her cup down on the table.
I’m sorry.
What did you say? I said, I’m willing to support Wayne.
I have a good job, my own apartment.
He could live with me.
Are you suggesting that my husband abandon his family for you? I’m offering him an honest life, a life where he doesn’t have to pretend.
Sarah felt anger rising in her chest.
An honest life? You call working as an escort an honest life? I’m talking about what comes after.
About our future.
What future could you possibly have with a married man? The one we choose for ourselves, Brandon replied, taking Wayne’s hand across the table.
Sarah looked at their intertwined fingers and felt the world crumbling around her.
Wayne, are you going to leave us? Wayne remained silent, staring at the table.
Answer me, Sarah demanded.
Are you planning to abandon your children for him? I’m not planning to abandon my children, Wayne said quietly.
But I can’t live a lie anymore.
So 17 years of marriage means nothing.
It does, but not what it should have meant.
Brandon leaned toward Wayne.
You don’t have to justify yourself to her.
You have a right to be happy.
Shut up, Sarah snapped.
This is between a husband and wife.
Not exactly, Brandon replied.
I’m part of this story, too.
You’re part of the problem.
You took advantage of my husband during a difficult time in his life.
I fell in love with him.
Fell in love? Sarah laughed.
You don’t even know him.
Do you know that he snores? That he’s allergic to strawberries? That he’s afraid of heights? that he cries at children’s movies.
I know he’s smart, kind, talented.
You know him as an escort service client.
That’s not love.
That’s fantasy.
Brandon stood up.
I’m not going to listen to this, Wayne.
If you’re ready to start a new life, you know where to find me.
He headed for the exit, but Sarah called after him.
Brandon.
He turned around.
If you really love him, leave him alone.
Give him time to figure things out without your influence.
And will you give him that opportunity or will you keep him there by force? I’ll give him the freedom to choose.
But the choice has to be a conscious one, not influenced by emotions, Brandon thought about it.
Okay, 1 month.
I won’t contact him for a month.
Then he can decide for himself.
1 month.
Sarah agreed.
Brandon nodded and left the cafe.
Sarah and Wayne were left alone.
“Do you really want to leave?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Wayne replied honestly.
“I need time.
” “You have a month.
” They left the cafe in silence.
On the way home, Sarah thought about how a month could change everything.
A month is the time it takes to make the most important decision in your life.
At home, the children were already asleep.
Wayne went into the guest room and Sarah lay down in the empty marital bed.
She couldn’t sleep, replaying the conversation in the cafe in her head.
Brandon’s words about being willing to support Wayne stuck in her mind.
On Monday morning, life went on as usual.
The children went to school, Wayne went to work, and Sarah went to the hospital.
But the atmosphere in the house had changed.
Every conversation, every glance was filled with uncertainty.
On Tuesday evening, Sarah received an unexpected call from Brandon.
Sarah, I need to talk to you.
It’s urgent.
About what? About Wayne.
I think he’s in danger.
What do you mean? Not over the phone.
Can you come over to my place now? Sarah hesitated.
I don’t know.
Please, it’s really important.
Sarah glanced at her watch.
It was 8.
Wayne hadn’t come home from work yet, and the children were doing their homework.
Okay.
Address.
Brandon gave her the address of a new residential complex on the outskirts of town.
Sarah told the children she would be gone for a little while and drove over.
The multi-story Riverview complex was one of the most expensive in town.
Brandon’s apartment was on the fifth floor with a view of the river.
He met her at the door in casual clothes.
jeans and a sweater.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, letting her into the spacious apartment with its modern furniture and panoramic windows.
“What did you want to talk about?” Sarah asked, staying in the hallway.
“Please sit down.
Would you like some coffee?” “No, thank you.
Just tell me.
” Brandon walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa.
Wayne called me today.
“What?” Sarah felt her heart skip a beat.
But you agreed.
He was desperate.
He said he couldn’t go on like this, that he wanted to end his life.
That’s not true, Sarah said quickly.
Wayne isn’t capable of suicide.
How do you know? People who are depressed are unpredictable.
Sarah moved closer.
What exactly did he say? That life had lost all meaning.
That he couldn’t be honest with his family and couldn’t give up his feelings for me.
And what did you say? I said I’d come to him, but he refused.
He said he’d rather be alone.
Sarah took out her phone.
I’ll call him.
He’s not answering.
I already tried.
Sarah dialed Wayne’s number.
It rang, but no one answered.
She tried again.
Same thing.
Where could he be? She asked.
I don’t know.
Maybe at that motel or home.
He’s not home.
The kids would have told me.
Sarah tried again.
No answer.
I have to find him, she said.
I’ll go with you, Brandon offered.
No.
Sarah, this is no time for pride.
We’re both worried about him.
Sarah nodded.
They went down to the underground garage where Brandon’s car was parked, a black BMW that Sarah recognized from the detectives photos.
First, they drove to the roadside rest Motel.
The clerk said she hadn’t seen Wayne in several days.
Then they checked the car dealership, also empty.
Maybe he’s with friends, Brandon suggested.
Wayne doesn’t have many close friends, Sarah replied.
And I’ve already gone through the ones he does have in my head.
They drove through the night streets of Westfield, looking into bars, cafes, places where Wayne might be, but he was nowhere to be found.
Maybe we should go back to your place, Brandon suggested.
He might be there.
On the way to the Collins house, they stopped at a red light.
Sarah looked out the window and suddenly saw a familiar figure at a bus stop.
“There he is,” she exclaimed.
Wayne was sitting on the bench at the bus stop with his head down.
An empty bottle lay on the asphalt next to him.
They pulled up to the bus stop.
Wayne looked up and stared at them in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” he asked when they approached him.
His speech was slightly slurred.
We were looking for you, Sarah replied.
Brandon said, “You called him.
” “I didn’t call anyone,” Wayne muttered.
“I just wanted to be alone.
” Sarah glanced at Brandon, but he said, “I thought you were worried,” Brandon said quickly.
“I wanted to help find him.
” Something in his tone alarmed Sarah.
But right now, the most important thing was to get Wayne home.
Get in the car,” she said to her husband.
“Let’s go home.
” “I don’t want to go home,” Wayne replied.
“Everything there reminds me of the lies.
” “Then where do you want to be?” Wayne looked at Brandon.
“Can I stay at your place tonight?” Sarah felt a pang of jealousy, but nodded.
“Okay, but we’ll talk tomorrow.
” Sober, they drove to Brandon’s place.
Sarah helped get Wayne into the apartment and laid him down on the couch in the living room.
“Thanks,” Brandon said when Wayne fell asleep.
“I’ll keep an eye on him.
” “Why did you lie to me?” Sarah asked.
“He didn’t call you.
” Brandon lowered his eyes.
“I was worried.
I wanted to see him.
” “Was that an excuse to see me?” “Partly, but I was genuinely concerned about him.
” Sarah headed for the door.
I’ll take him home in the morning.
Sarah, Brandon called after her.
What if he doesn’t want to go back? Then that’s his choice.
She left the apartment, but instead of driving home, she parked across the street and watched the windows.
Something about Brandon’s behavior bothered her.
He had been too insistent on seeing Wayne, too quick to offer him a place to stay.
An hour later, the lights went out.
Sarah was about to leave when she saw the living room light come on again.
Two figures flashed in the window.
“They’re not asleep,” she muttered under her breath.
Suddenly, one of the silhouettes jerked back and the other leaned over it.
Sarah looked more closely, but the distance was too great to make out any details.
A few minutes later, the lights went out again.
Sarah waited another half hour, but nothing else happened.
On Wednesday morning, Sarah arrived at Brandon’s apartment at 6.
She went up to the fifth floor and rang the doorbell.
No one answered.
She rang again, then knocked.
Brandon Wayne, open up.
Silence.
Sarah went down to the concierge.
Excuse me.
Can you help me? My husband spent the night at Mr.
Reed’s apartment, 512, but no one is answering.
I’m worried.
The concierge, an elderly man with kind eyes, nodded.
Let’s go take a look.
They went up to the fifth floor.
The doorman knocked louder than Sarah had.
“Mr.
Reed, is everything all right?” There was no answer.
“I have a spare key,” said the doorman.
“For emergencies.
” He opened the door and they entered the apartment.
The living room was quiet.
The sofa where Wayne was supposed to be sleeping was empty and the pillows were on the floor.
“Mr.
Reed,” called the concierge.
They continued through the apartment.
The kitchen was empty, as was the bathroom.
That left the bedroom.
The concierge opened the bedroom door and recoiled.
“My God!” Sarah peered over his shoulder and screamed.
Brandon Reed was lying on the bedroom floor.
His eyes were open and staring at the ceiling.
A pool of blood spread out beside his head.
A heavy glass candlestick lay on the bedside table, also covered in blood.
Don’t go in, said the concierge, reaching for his phone.
I’m calling the police.
Sarah stood in the doorway, unable to take her eyes off the body.
Brandon Reed was dead, and Wayne was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s my husband?” she whispered.
10 minutes later, the apartment was filled with police officers, paramedics, and forensic technicians.
Detective Linda Parker, a woman in her mid-40s with graying hair and attentive eyes, took Sarah’s statement.
“So, your husband spent the night here?” she asked.
“Yes, we brought him here last night around 11:00.
He was drunk.
” “Where is he now?” “I don’t know.
I came to pick him up this morning, but no one answered.
Tell me about your relationship with Mr.
Reed.
” Sarah told her the whole story about the problems in her marriage, the escort agency, Wayne’s relationship with Brandon.
Detective Parker wrote everything down, asking clarifying questions from time to time.
Was there any conflict between you and the victim? She asked.
You could say that he destroyed my family.
Did you threaten him? Number we only met twice on Sunday at the cafe and last night.
Where is your husband now? I don’t know, maybe home.
Detective Parker nodded.
We’ll find him.
In the meantime, you’d better not stay alone.
Sarah returned home in a state of shock.
The children had already left for school, and Wayne was not at home.
She sat down on the sofa in the living room and tried to make sense of what had happened.
Brandon Reed was dead.
Wayne was missing, and she was the last person to see them both alive.
Sarah stared at her phone, realizing that her life had changed forever.
Brandon Reed was dead.
Her husband was on the run from the police, and she was now a suspect.
Detective Linda Parker spent a sleepless night studying the case file on Brandon Reed’s murder.
20 years on the force had taught her not to trust first impressions, and this case seemed too simple at first glance.
On Thursday morning, she called Sarah Collins to the station for further questioning.
Sarah looked exhausted with dark circles under her eyes and her hands shaking as she poured water from a glass.
Mrs.
Collins, let’s go over the events of Tuesday evening again.
Detective Parker began, turning on her tape recorder.
You said Mr.
Reed called you around 8:30.
Yes.
He said it was urgent that it was about Wayne and you went straight to him.
Yes.
He said Wayne was in danger, that he wanted to kill himself.
But when you found your husband, he didn’t confirm that.
Sarah paused.
Number he said he hadn’t called anyone.
He just wanted to be alone.
So Mr.
Reed lied to you.
It appears so.
Detective Parker made a note in her notebook.
Why do you think he did that? He wanted to see Wayne.
They had a relationship.
An intimate relationship? Yes.
Despite the fact that your husband was married? Despite that? How did you feel about that? Sarah paused.
I was angry.
Angry at Brandon for destroying my family.
Angry enough to hurt him.
No, Sarah replied firmly.
I didn’t kill him.
What about your husband? Wayne is not capable of murder.
Mrs.
Collins, your husband had been leading a double life for several months.
He lied to you every day.
How can you be sure of what he is capable of? Sarah had no answer.
Meanwhile, in the forensic lab, evidence from the crime scene was being examined.
The murder weapon, a heavy glass candlestick, did indeed belong to Brandon.
Two sets of fingerprints were found on it.
Brandon’s and an unknown persons.
Run the prints through the database, Detective Parker ordered, and check the DNA from the crime scene.
The results came back faster than expected.
The prince belonged to Wayne Collins.
His information had been in the system since he was background checked when he was hired at the car dealership.
So, Mr.
Collins was indeed in the apartment and handled the murder weapon, Detective Parker told her partner, Sergeant Brown.
But that doesn’t prove he’s the killer.
He had a motive.
He had the opportunity.
And the evidence points to him, Brown replied.
What else do we need? I need to understand what exactly happened that night.
Detective Parker decided to talk to Brandon’s colleagues at the bank.
Perhaps he had other enemies or problems that the Collins family didn’t know about.
At First National Bank, she was met by manager James Hartley, a nervous man in his 50s.
Brandon was a good employee, he said.
Punctual, responsible.
The customers liked him.
Did he have any conflicts with anyone? dissatisfied customers, co-workers, not conflicts, but he had become more withdrawn lately.
He didn’t talk to his co-workers as much.
How long had this been going on? 3 months, maybe four.
Detective Parker wrote down the information.
The time frame coincided with the beginning of Brandon’s relationship with Wayne.
What about his personal life? Was he in a relationship? Hartley shrugged awkwardly.
We didn’t discuss personal matters, but he never mentioned a girlfriend or wife.
As she left the bank, Detective Parker received a call from the lab.
We have another interesting finding.
The expert reported hair was found on the victim’s body that doesn’t belong to him or Mr.
Collins.
Who’s is it? A woman’s dark brown about a foot long.
Detective Parker thought for a moment.
Sarah Collins was a brunette with hair that length.
On Thursday evening, she called Sarah back to the station.
Mrs.
Collins, I need to take a hair sample from you for analysis.
Why? Female hair was found on the victim’s body.
We need to determine if it’s yours.
Sarah turned pale.
But I told you I didn’t kill him.
Then explain how your hair got on his body.
I don’t know.
Maybe when we were helping Wayne get to the apartment or when I covered him with a blanket.
You didn’t mention that you covered your husband with a blanket.
Yes, I did.
He was lying on the couch and I thought he was cold.
Detective Parker took the hair sample and sent it to the lab.
A few hours later, the results came back.
The hair did indeed belong to Sarah.
But another discovery proved more important.
Upon re-examining the body, the expert found that the hair was not on the victim’s clothing, but clenched in his fist.
That changes everything.
Detective Parker told Sergeant Brown.
If the hair is in his fist, there was a struggle.
So, Mrs.
Collins lied to us.
Or she doesn’t remember everything.
On Friday morning, Detective Parker received the long- awaited call.
Wayne Collins was found in a motel 40 mi from Westfield.
He did not resist arrest.
“I’m ready to tell the truth,” he said when he was brought to the station.
In the interrogation room, Wayne looked exhausted.
He had 3 days stubble.
His clothes were rumpled and his eyes were red from lack of sleep.
Mr.
Collins, you are charged with the murder of Brandon Reed, Detective Parker began.
Do you wish to make a statement? I didn’t kill him, Wayne said.
But I know who did.
Who? My wife, Sarah.
Detective Parker put down her pen.
Tell me what happened that night.
Wayne took a deep breath.
Sarah left me at Brandon’s around 11:00.
I lay down on the couch in the living room, but I couldn’t sleep.
Around 1:00 in the morning, I heard a knock on the door.
Who was it? Sarah.
She said she couldn’t sleep and wanted to talk to Brandon.
And what happened next? Brandon let her in.
They went into the bedroom, probably so they wouldn’t wake me.
But I could still hear them talking.
What were they talking about? Sarah was demanding that he leave me alone.
She said he had destroyed our family.
Brandon replied that I had a right to be happy.
And then then the shouting started.
Sarah was yelling at him and he was yelling back.
I got up to separate them, but then everything went quiet.
What did you do? I went into the bedroom.
Brandon was lying on the floor covered in blood.
Sarah was standing over him with a candlestick in her hands.
What did she say? Nothing at first.
She just stared at him.
Then she turned to me and said he wouldn’t listen.
What did you do? I panicked.
Sarah said we had to get rid of the body that no one would ever know.
But I couldn’t.
I ran away.
Why didn’t you call the police? She’s my wife, the mother of my children.
I couldn’t turn her in.
Detective Parker studied Wayne’s face, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth.
Mr.
Collins, your fingerprints are on the murder weapon.
I tried to take it from her.
We pulled on the candlestick, but she was stronger than me at that moment.
And then then I realized it was too late.
Brandon was dead.
I ran out the back door.
An hour later, Detective Parker questioned Sarah Collins again.
This time the atmosphere was completely different.
Mrs.
Collins, your husband has given us his version of events.
And what did he say? Sarah asked, but her face showed that she already knew.
That you killed Brandon Reed.
That he saw you standing over his body with a candlestick in your hands.
Sarah was silent for a long time.
When she spoke, her voice was quiet and tired.
I didn’t plan to kill him.
I just wanted to talk to him one more time.
Tell me what happened.
I couldn’t sleep.
All I could think about was that Wayne might choose him.
That our family was ruined.
Around 1:00 in the morning, I drove to Brandon’s house.
Why? I wanted to ask him to leave Wayne alone.
Offer him money.
Anything.
And what did he say? He laughed.
He said Wayne had already made his choice.
He just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.
that in a month they’d be living together.
Did that make you angry? Yes.
I told him I wouldn’t let him ruin my children’s lives and he said the kids would get used to the new reality quickly.
And then you hit him.
He turned his back to me as if the conversation was over.
He picked up the candlestick to put it back in its place and I grabbed him from behind.
We struggled.
The candlestick fell and hit him on the head.
Once Sarah closed her eyes, number he fell, but he was still moving.
And I hit him again to stop him moving.
So it was premeditated murder.
No, I mean, I don’t know.
At that moment, all I could think about was that he had ruined my life.
That because of him, I had lost my husband and my children would lose their father.
What happened next? Wayne came in.
He saw the body and started screaming.
I tried to explain that it was an accident, but he wouldn’t listen.
He said we had to call the police, but you didn’t call.
I begged him to think about the children.
I said we’d find a way to work it out, but he ran away.
And you left the body.
I didn’t know what to do.
I thought Wayne would come back, that we’d talk it over.
In the morning, I decided I had to find the body so I wouldn’t look suspicious.
Detective Parker finished recording the statement.
Sarah Collins, you are under arrest for the murder of Brandon Reed.
Sarah Collins trial took place 3 months later.
The story of a housewife who killed her husband’s lover attracted the attention of all the local media.
Sarah’s lawyer tried to prove that it was an unintentional killing in the heat of the moment.
The prosecutor insisted that Sarah acted deliberately, striking the victim several times.
Wayne testified against his wife, although it was clearly difficult for him.
The children were not present at the trial, but their fate was discussed in all the city newspapers.
In the end, the jury found Sarah guilty of secondderee murder.
She was sentenced to 15 years in prison.
2 years passed.
Wayne Collins moved to another state with his children.
He found a job at a small company and tried to start his life over.
His relationship with his children was difficult.
They blamed him for what had happened to their mother, even though they understood that he was not responsible for the murder.
Sarah was serving her sentence in a women’s prison 200 m from Westfield.
The children visited her once a month.
Emily, now 18, was attending college on a scholarship.
Matthew was finishing high school and planning to go to university.
Wayne never worked in the escort service again.
He was seeing a psychologist trying to come to terms with his orientation and his guilt over what had happened.
Sometimes he thought about Brandon and what their life could have been.
