I always had a gut feeling.

Not just the kind that whispers doubts late at night, but the kind that claws at your thoughts in the middle of the day while folding laundry, cooking dinner, or scrolling through photos of a life that looked perfect from the outside.

My husband had changed. The smiles were shorter, his phone tighter in his hand. A sudden password here, a strange late meeting there. The lies weren’t clever. Just… frequent.

At first, I tried to ignore it. We had two kids, a mortgage, fifteen years together. You don’t just tear that apart over suspicion. But then came the emails. One popped up on our shared tablet that he forgot to log out. A short line: "Last night was amazing. Can’t stop thinking about it." No name. No signature. Just enough to break something inside me.

I needed proof. Real proof. Not for revenge. For clarity.

That’s when I found the GearHead Engineers’ and I reached out to them through email gearhead @ engineer . com. I wasn’t proud of what I did, but I got his phone cloned. My heart pounded as I opened the dashboard.

Location logs. Call history. Messages. Photos. All there, raw and damning. Names I recognized of coworkers, gym instructors. Even someone he once introduced as a "friend from college." There wasn’t just one affair. There were at least three. Overlapping, hidden in the cracks of our daily life.

It was like watching a movie I didn’t remember starring in. One where the plot was already over, and I’d missed every clue.

But now, I had the script in my hands.