Her telling me the truth. Her saying she was unhappy. That we needed to change something. That she was considering leaving. That would have been enough.
Instead. She lied and you helped her and now you're here trying to make me complicit in my own betrayal. He sat down his coffee cup with a clink that sounded too loud. Why did you really agree to meet me? Because I wanted to see if you'd tell me the truth about something and I leaned forward.
Rachel said this started in July at the summer party, but that's not true, is it? His face went very still. What do you mean? I mean, I've seen the phone records, Marcus. Texts between you and are going back to February.
Hundreds of them, increasingly intimate, increasingly inappropriate. The July party wasn't the beginning. It was just when the emotional affair became physical. He looked away, jaw- clenching. That's semantics.
No, it's honesty or the lack of it. You and Rachel have been lying so long, you started believing your own story. The poor lonely wife, the noble other man, the distant husband. But the evidence doesn't support that narrative. The evidence showed two people who actively pursued an affair, who made hundreds of conscious choices to betray a marriage, who lied not just to me, but to everyone around them.
What do you want from me? He sounded tired, suddenly defeated. An apology, permission for me to admit I'm a terrible person. I want you to stop pretending you're not. I slid a folder across the table, one I prepared specifically for him.
This is a copy of everything I showed Rachel. Phone records, credit card statements, text messages, photos, your entire affair documented. I gave Rachel the courtesy of seeing it first. Now you get the same. " He opened the folder slowly, started reading. I watched the blood drain from his face as he turned pages as he saw his relationship with my wife laid out in stark black and white.
Evidence he'd probably convinced himself didn't exist. "Why are you showing me this? " he asked without looking up. "Because I want you to understand something. This doesn't end with divorce papers and moving trucks. This ends when I decide it ends.
And right now, I haven't decided yet. He looked up sharply. What does that mean? It means I have choices, Marcus. I can file an atfall divorce and make all of this public record.
I can share these documents with your employer. I'm sure they'd be interested to know their employees are using company time and resources for extrammarital affairs. I can tell your parents, your friends, anyone who will listen about what kind of man you really are. That's you're threatening me. I'm explaining consequences.