Just last week, Mark and I were planning our wedding. Now, he was off to Spain—again—and barely calling. While sorting emails, I found a hotel reservation for two. Strawberries and champagne. I’m allergic to strawberries.
I knew he wasn’t alone.
I flew to Spain, sick with dread. On the plane, a man accidentally spilled juice on me. His name was Daniel. Turns out, he was flying to catch his cheating wife.
We laughed at the crazy coincidence.
At the hotel—same one, of course—we saw them. Mark and Daniel’s wife. Together.
So we made a plan: fake a romance, crash their dinner, and turn the tables.
Daniel gave me a red dress he’d bought for her. We walked in looking like a power couple. They were stunned.
Then Daniel pulled out diamond earrings meant for his wife and handed them to me. “She doesn’t deserve them,” he said.
We left smiling. I didn’t just catch a cheater—I found my strength.
