Chapter 4: Broken Promises, Broken Home

That day, I got a friend request from a stranger. The profile picture was of a young woman with long brown hair and a shy smile. I knew immediately who it was.

Just from the profile picture, I guessed who it was. My heart pounded as I accepted the request...

I accepted the request.

Then she sent a string of photos. One after another: her and Jackson together, her kissing him while he slept on the couch.

There were also pictures of them in bed. The images were explicit, leaving no room for doubt. I felt sick, but I forced myself to keep looking.

Even explicit videos. I didn’t watch them, just scrolled past, numb. What the hell was wrong with these people?

"Savannah, your husband doesn’t love you anymore. Be dignified and divorce him, okay?" Her message was calm, almost gentle. Like she thought she was doing me a favor.

"Jackson has always been careful to protect me, afraid you’d hurt me. But I know you’re kind. If your husband cheats, you’ll only blame him, not me. After all, if it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else, right?" The arrogance in her words made my blood boil.

"You know I live right across from your neighborhood, but you never came looking for trouble. I knew you were a good person. Savannah, let go. Let me and the father of my child be together. I really love him, and he loves me." She pleaded with me, as if I was the one standing in the way of their happiness.

"I’ll ask Jackson to give you more money. Just divorce him. You’re still young—you can find a man who loves you." The condescension was almost laughable.

...

She wrote a lot more, but I didn’t bother reading it. I’d heard enough. I blocked her and closed my phone, feeling oddly calm.

She sent me all the key evidence of Jackson’s cheating. She took these herself, not me, so they’re perfectly legal. It was almost too easy.

I forwarded them to Nate. Didn’t bother with a message—just sent the files and waited.

Nate laughed himself silly. "She actually handed you such important evidence? We’re one step closer to making that jerk leave with nothing. We should celebrate! Come out for late-night burgers!" His enthusiasm was infectious, and for the first time in ages, I felt like myself again.

"I’m coming!" I replied, grabbing my keys and heading out the door. Finally, something to look forward to.

Her name was Emily Brooks, a junior at Westfield College. Her family was poor. By chance, she got a scholarship from Jackson and became his sponsored student. I read through her file, feeling a strange mix of pity and anger.

Nate sent me all of Emily’s information, including her school’s contact info and her advisor’s number. He was thorough, leaving nothing to chance.

As we ate fries, Nate said casually, "Send the chat logs she gave you to her school. They’ll handle it. She said you’re kind and wouldn’t cause her trouble." He grinned, dipping a fry in ketchup.

"Of course, I also think you’re kind and wouldn’t make things hard for her." There was a twinkle in his eye, like he was daring me to prove him wrong.

Then Nate reminded me, "But being a mistress is a personal moral issue. The school probably won’t expel her—at most, she’ll get a warning." He shrugged, but I could tell he was proud of me for standing up for myself.

I immediately reported everything about Emily to her school. I attached the screenshots, the photos, everything. I hit send, took a deep breath, and felt a weight lift off my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I felt in control again.