Libby and Natty exchanged a look and I could see them deciding where to begin this incredible story.
“It was a Sunday afternoon in February,” Libby began. “Remember when my laptop crashed right before my big history paper was due?”
I nodded. That had been a stressful weekend. Libby had been panicking about losing all her research.
“Dad offered to let me use his computer in his office,” Libby continued. “He said he was going to run errands and I could work in peace.”
Libby’s expression darkened.
“But he forgot to log out of his email.”
Natty picked up the story.
“When Libby called me upstairs to help her format the paper, we both saw it. An email notification popped up from someone named Jessica. The preview showed, ‘I can’t stop thinking about last night, my love.’”
My stomach turned.
“Last night.” While I was sleeping in our bed, thinking my husband was working late again.
“At first, we thought maybe it was a mistake,” Libby continued. “Like maybe someone had the wrong email address. But then Natty suggested we look at his sent folder.”
“I know it was wrong to snoop,” Natty said quickly. “But something felt off. Dad had been acting so weird lately. Always on his phone, always working late, always finding excuses to leave the house.”
I thought back to February. Brandon had been distant, but I’d assumed it was work stress. He’d been complaining about difficult clients and long hours. I’d actually felt sorry for him.
“What did you find in his sent folder?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
“Everything,” Libby said simply. “Months of emails, pictures they’d sent each other, plans they were making. And Mom…” She hesitated.
“What?”
“He was telling her things about us, about you, private things that he had no right to share.”
Natty pulled up a file on her laptop.
“He told her you were boring and predictable. He said you’d let yourself go after having kids. He complained that you worked too much and didn’t pay enough attention to him.”
Each word felt like a slap. Twenty years of marriage, and this was how my husband described me to his mistress.
“But the worst part,” Libby said, “was when we found the emails about money.”
“Show me,” I said, even though I dreaded seeing it.
Natty scrolled through the files.
“Here, this one from March 15th.”
I read the email and my blood turned to ice.
“Jessica, I’ve been thinking about our conversation. You’re right that we need a substantial amount to start fresh. I have access to about $230,000 between the college fund and our savings. Claire never checks the accounts closely. I can transfer it gradually, so she won’t notice until it’s too late. By summer, we’ll have everything we need to disappear.”
“He was planning this for months,” I whispered.
“Gets worse,” Natty said grimly. “Look at this one from April.”
The next email made me feel sick.
“The girls will be fine. They’re smart enough to get scholarships, and Claire can take out loans if needed. Our happiness matters more than their college plans. We deserve this fresh start.”
I stared at the screen in disbelief. My husband was willing to destroy his daughter’s futures for his own selfish desires.
“That’s when we decided we had to do something,” Libby said. “We couldn’t just sit back and let him ruin our lives.”
“So what did you do?” I asked.
Natty grinned, and for a moment she looked like the mischievous little girl who used to hack into my computer to change her bedtime reminders.
“We started our own investigation. I used my computer skills to track Dad’s digital footprint—every website he visited, every account he accessed, every transaction he made.”
