Are we going to do this?" "Yes, we’re going to do this. I want to know why you left the party with my cousin and where you went afterward." For a moment, she didn't say anything. Then she shook her head. "George was helping me. I’d had too much to drink, and he made sure I got back safely." "That’s your explanation?" "What do you expect me to say?" I wasn't in a condition to drive, so he helped me.
Why didn't you call me? She looked away. I didn't want to wake you up. I almost laughed at that answer, but I held it back. You could have called a taxi.
You could have called one of your friends. You could have called me. Instead, you left the party with my cousin and didn't come home until hours later. "Nothing happened, Barry." I looked directly at her. "Are you telling me nothing happened between you two?" She hesitated.
"Why are you asking me that?" "Because I want an honest answer." She crossed her arms. I've already explained what happened. You're making this into something it isn't. I remained silent for a moment. All right.
If that's your position, I don't think there's anything else to discuss right now. She seemed surprised by my response. "That’s it? You’re just going to sit there and judge me?" "I’m not judging you. I’m asking questions, and you’re refusing to give me straight answers." She picked up her phone again.
"You’re becoming impossible to talk to." I left the kitchen without responding. I had given her an opportunity to tell me the truth. She had chosen another explanation that didn't match what I knew. That afternoon, I went to the office of the divorce attorney I had spoken with earlier. I brought the investigator's report, the photographs, and the financial records I had collected.
He reviewed everything carefully before explaining the legal process and what I needed to consider regarding our house, shared accounts, and other marital assets. I told him I had made my decision. "I want to proceed with the divorce." He explained the next steps and began preparing the necessary paperwork. I also followed his advice about documenting our shared finances and securing copies of important personal and financial records. I didn't want to make careless decisions or give Vivian an opportunity to accuse me of doing something improper.
Over the next several days, I continued behaving normally at home. Vivian seemed relieved that I had stopped asking questions. She probably assumed the argument had passed and that I had accepted her explanation. She was wrong. By Thursday, I had made another decision.
I was going to invite both sides of our family to dinner at our house. I wanted everyone present when Vivian and George were confronted with what they had done. I started making calls that evening. I invited my parents, Vivian's parents, her sister, and several relatives who regularly attended our family gatherings. I also called George.
"Hey George, we're having a family dinner on Saturday. I'd like you to come." There was a brief pause. "Sure. What's the occasion?" "Nothing special. I just thought it would be good to get everyone together." "Sounds good.
I’ll be there." I ended the call and put my phone down. A few minutes later, Vivian came into the living room. "Who were you inviting?" "Everyone. I thought we could have a family dinner on Saturday." She smiled faintly. "That’s actually a nice idea.
We haven’t done that in a while." "Exactly. Did you invite George?" "Yes." She nodded and returned to the kitchen. I watched her walk away. She had no idea what I was preparing and I intended to keep it that way. By Saturday evening, every person who needed to hear the truth would be sitting under our roof.
And this time, I wouldn't be asking Vivian for an explanation. I would be showing everyone the evidence. Saturday evening arrived, and by then most of the family had gathered at our house. My parents were in the living room talking with Vivian's parents, while her sister, Amanda, was helping Vivian bring food to the dining table. George arrived shortly after 7:30.
He walked through the front door carrying a bottle of wine and greeted everyone with his usual confidence. When he saw me, he smiled and extended his hand. "Barry, how are you, cousin?" "Good, George. Thanks for coming." I shook his hand and looked him in the eyes. He didn't seem nervous or uncomfortable.
If anything, he appeared perfectly relaxed. That made me even more certain that he had no idea what I knew. Vivian came over and took the bottle from him. Thanks, George. You didn't have to bring anything.
Of course I did. It's not every day the whole family gets together. I watched them exchange a brief smile before turning away. Dinner started normally. Everyone talked about work, family plans, and a few upcoming events.
My father told a story about something that had happened at his office, and Vivian's mother laughed so hard that she nearly spilled her drink. I participated in the conversation when necessary, but my attention kept returning to Vivian and George. They were both doing an excellent job pretending everything was normal. At one point, George asked me about work. "How’s everything going at the office?" "Fine.
Busy, but nothing unusual." "Good." That's important. You don't want to let work take over your life. I looked at him. You're right. Although there are other things that can take over someone's life without them realizing it.
He gave a small laugh, apparently assuming I was making a general comment. "That’s true." Vivian glanced at me, but I continued eating. I wanted everyone to finish dinner before I said anything. There was no reason to rush. I had waited several days to put everything together, and another 20 minutes wouldn't make a difference.
Eventually, the plates were cleared, and everyone moved into the living room. Some people took coffee, while others remained seated at the dining table. I stood up. "Before everyone leaves, there’s something I’d like to discuss." The conversations gradually stopped. Vivian looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"What is it, Barry?" I walked toward the cabinet beside the television and took out a large folder. I had placed everything inside it earlier that afternoon, arranging the documents in chronological order. I returned to the center of the room. First, I want to thank everyone for coming. I know this might seem like an ordinary family dinner, but there's a reason I wanted everyone here tonight.
My mother looked concerned. "Is everything all right?" "No, Mom, it isn’t." I opened the folder and removed the first photograph. Last Friday, Vivian attended a birthday party at the Grandview Hotel. She went alone after we had an argument about her going out that evening. Vivian shifted in her chair.
"Barry? What are you doing?" I ignored the interruption and held up the photograph. "This is my wife with my cousin George. As you can see, they’re standing very close together." But that isn't the main problem. I placed the photograph on the coffee table.