When I cleaned our messy car with my five-year-old son, Liam, I expected grime—not secrets. But halfway through, he casually mentioned, “Why don’t we use Daddy’s secret shiny black car? The lady lets him drive it.”My heart dropped. A woman? A secret car?

Instead of confronting my husband Ben right away, I followed him one night with the help of my friend Sarah. We watched as he met a well-dressed woman, took her keys, and drove off in a sleek black car—carrying a small box.