My Husband Took His Female Colleague to My Inherited Lake House for ‘Business Trips’ — But He Had No Idea I’d Already Installed Cameras
I never thought I’d install hidden cameras in my own lake house. But when my husband’s “business trips” rang hollow and an old neighbor spotted him there, my gut screamed betrayal.
For seven years, Luke and I had the marriage everyone envied—synchronized careers, weekend getaways, dreams of kids. As a senior editor in Chicago, I was buried in manuscripts, too distracted to see the signs.
Two years ago, I inherited Grandma’s cozy Wisconsin lake house—my childhood haven of fireflies and peach cobbler. I kept it mine: Luke visited once, no key, never alone. Or so I thought.
Then Mr. Jensen called: “Saw a tall guy unlocking your door last weekend, carrying groceries.” Luke was supposedly in Philly. My stomach dropped.
The next “conference,” I drove up secretly. Inside: coral lipstick on a wine glass, unfamiliar blanket, blonde hair in the drain, takeout receipt for two—Luke’s favorites. He was cheating there.
I installed three cameras: front door, back, living room bookend. “Just for thieves,” I muttered.
Thursday, alert: Luke unlocking with a giggling blonde. “Welcome to paradise, babe.” They danced in my sanctuary. No tears—just resolve.
Pretending normal, I sprung the trap: “Let’s weekend at the lake house instead.” He panicked; I lied about his rescheduled client. Checkmate.
Friday, I played the footage on TV: him with her. “Spying?!” he yelled. “What’s insane is you betraying me here,” I shot back, handing divorce papers. “Sign by Monday, or footage goes to your boss—and her husband.”
He fled, defeated.
That night on the dock, wrapped in Grandma’s quilt, sunset gilding the lake, I felt free. The real inheritance? My worth. Trust your gut. Protect your peace—it’s your birthright.
