I Spied on My Husband, Thinking He Had a Mistress — What I Found Was a Death Sentence

Poppy thought her husband was cheating. The late nights. The locked phone. The earring in his car that wasn't hers. But the truth is far worse. Someone tried to kill her. And William? The man she doubted? He's wrapped up in the truth, too. Now, Poppy must uncover the truth before it’s too late.

William was in the shower when I found the earring.

Small, delicate, gold, a whisper of a thing, but it might as well have been a bomb in my palm.

I stared at it, my heart slamming against my ribs. It's not mine. I know it isn't. My style wasn't as delicate as I would have liked. I needed more than delicate and fragile.

Our bedroom was dimly lit, the early morning light stretching across our king-sized bed, the crisp white sheets still indented from where William slept. Everything looked normal, safe even.

But it wasn't. Something was off. Wrong.

Because I know every single piece of jewelry I own. And this little thing? This belonged to a stranger.

It definitely did.

A warm cloud of steam billowed from the bathroom, catching in the morning light. The shower turns off, and my stomach twists involuntarily as I hear the water droplets patter onto the white marble tiles, the soft rustling of William grabbing a towel.

I knew the routine so well. I knew his movements so well.

But not all of them.

My fingers tightened around the earring. I should confront him. I should walk in there, throw it at him while he's vulnerable with nothing but his towel. I should demand answers.

But I don't. Instead, I got back into bed, like I'd been there the entire time, just as the bathroom door opened.

William steps out, the emerald towel slung low on his hips, rubbing another one through his damp, tousled hair.

He looks… normal. Handsome, even. Like nothing had changed. If I didn't know better, I'd think this was just another morning, another day in our life together.

"You're awake," he smiled. "Good morning, my Poppy."

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple. My husband smelled like cedarwood and something much darker beneath it. His secrets spilling through his pores, perhaps?

I smile at him. My hand lingers on his arm. I act normal.

Because normal wives don't find another woman's jewelry in their husband's car. Normal wives get out of bed, slip their robes on, slide the earring into their pocket, and head downstairs.

They make hot coffee and eggs. They make bacon and toast. And they smile the entire time.

For the rest of the day, I couldn't concentrate. My head kept pounding from the weight of everything. William and I had been through so much together.

Especially after the accident…

The day passed in silence. I went from room to room, cleaning up after us, and finally, I sat down at my desk, hoping to continue with my design projects.

"Come on, Poppy," I muttered to myself. "You've got more nerve than this. Just ask the man about the earring."

But I couldn't. Every single time I thought of bringing it up, in all the different scenarios in my mind, the answer always made my hands shake.

So, I waited. I was going to find out some information for myself. And then, when I knew that all that was left was for William to confirm the truth, I would talk to him.

I made an elaborate dinner of steak and potatoes, mac and cheese on the side, and bought chocolate éclairs for dessert. I wanted William to fall asleep with his stomach full. That way, he wouldn't catch me snooping.

"Goodness, Poppy," he said after dinner. "That was delicious, love."

And just like that, he fell asleep, deeply. Easily. Like a man with absolutely no secrets.

I waited until I heard his soft snores, and then I reached across for his phone.

Passcode changed.

My stomach lurched. I knew it.

I tried again, my birthday this time. Wrong.

William had never changed his passcode before. Not once in the ten years we'd been together. I put his phone back carefully, my pulse hammering. No sudden movement. No obvious signs that I was unraveling in front of him.

Instead, I grabbed my keys and drove straight to Cassie's apartment.

Cassie had been my best friend since college. She was the kind of friend who would gladly tell you when your lipstick was the wrong shade, or when your husband was being the ultimate jerk, or to stop you from making a terrible decision.

"Okay, spill," she said as I sat down on her couch.

I didn't say anything. I just pulled the earring out from my pocket and dropped it onto her coffee table.

"Well, well, Pop-Pop," she said. "What do we have here?"

"I found it in William's car."

Cassie exhaled, her cigarette breath wafting through the room.

"Do you want me to lie?" she asked.

"No," I replied.

"Then I'll tell you what you already know. William is cheating," she sighed.

The words stung, even though I expected them.

"Not necessarily," I argued. "It could be a client's, or a friend's, or…"

"Poppy," Cassie said, giving me a look. "You don't find another woman's jewelry in your husband's car by accident."

"If he was cheating, wouldn't he be better at hiding it?" I murmured.

"You think he wants to get caught?" Cassie asked, picking up her lighter from the coffee table.

I didn't know about that. But suddenly, an affair felt too simple. Too insignificant.

William wasn't sloppy. William didn't make mistakes like this. It had to be something more.

The next morning, I logged onto his Google Maps history from my tablet. I wasn't sure that I'd find anything out of the ordinary, but there was hope.

The Fairmont Hotel.

"Now, William," I said to the empty kitchen. "Why would you be going to a hotel?"

And the strangest part? The location had been punched in five times in the last month alone.

William knew the roads well, he could navigate them in his sleep, but he always used Google Maps to be as precise as possible.

By noon, I was walking through the hotel lobby.

"How may I help you, ma'am?" the receptionist asked.

I gave her William's details, asking for the room or rooms he frequented.

"Oh, your husband is one of our usual guests," she smiled.

Meetings?

"Is he here now?" I asked.

She smiled again and shook her head.

"Ma'am, we're not supposed to give out information like that..."

"Please," I begged. "I need to get into that room. It's an emergency, and he won't mind. I promise you."

"It's against policy..."

I slipped her $200, the only money I had in my purse.

"Room 214," she said. Of course, she was shady. "Someone is in already. I think your husband has one of his meetings soon. Usually, someone gets a key before he gets here."

Moments later, my knuckles hovered near the wood of the door. Meetings with whom? Some twenty-something assistant? A perfectly manicured socialite?

Before I could knock, the door swung open.

But standing there wasn't a woman.

It was a man. Mid-fifties, sharp blue eyes, silver at his temples. He studied me like I was a puzzle he had already solved.

"Poppy," he said smoothly. "Finally."

"Who are you?"

He gestured for me to enter, and like an idiot, I stepped inside.

The room was pristine. There were no signs of perfume or lipstick-stained glasses. No silk robes or discarded high heels. Just a laptop on the desk, a whiskey glass half-empty beside it.

"Where's my husband? Where is William?"

"Tell me, Poppy, how much do you really know about William?" he asked.

A slow, suffocating fear crawled up my spine.

"Everything."

"Do you, really?" he raised an eyebrow.

"If he's not having an affair, then what on earth is he doing here?" I asked.

"William is… investigating a murder. Or almost-murder."

The world tilted.

"Explain," I demanded, wanting to sound strong and commanding, but the word came out in a whimper.

"Your car accident, Poppy," the man continued. "Almost a year ago. The one that nearly killed you."

My skin prickled.

"That wasn't an accident." His voice dropped lower. "Someone wanted you dead, Poppy."

I gasped, and the air left my lungs.

"That's what William has been trying to figure out. Why do you think he's been encouraging you to work from home?"

All this time. All this time, I thought he was hiding something from me.

But he wasn't. My husband was protecting me.

"And who are you?" I repeated.

"Julian," he said. "I'm a private investigator."

"And William hired you?"

He nodded.

"Initially, it was Audrey, but then she… disappeared."

Audrey. So… she wasn't his mistress. She was William's investigator.

A cold weight dropped into my stomach. I lifted my gaze to Julian's.

"Audrey knew she was being followed. She must've thought… I don't know. All we know is that Audrey left a note and a single earring in the room where she was supposed to meet William."

"A note? Saying what?" I asked, swallowing against the rising nausea.

"Saying 'follow the clues', whatever that means. William thinks he knows exactly what happened, but I'm still following my own leads."

By the time I got home, my hands were shaking. William was sitting in his armchair, his face unreadable.

"You went to the hotel, Poppy," he said quietly.

I nodded.

"I was trying to keep you safe," he said, his jaw tight.

"By lying to me?" I asked.

"By keeping you alive, love," his voice cracked.

Suddenly, I understood the weight of it. I could see the fear on William's face. The exhaustion.

"The accident…"

"It was your uncle, Poppy," he swallowed. "It was Paul. He arranged it. I got my investigator to look into him when he came to visit you in the hospital. He was acting skittish, and it rang a bell for me."

My heart dropped.

"He was supposed to get your trust fund if you died. Your father had him next in line if we didn't have any kids."

William paused.

"He paid a nurse to keep you drugged. To keep you weak and out of it. She's ready to testify once we have him. Which is why I had you moved to another facility. I knew something was up. I knew something was wrong… but I couldn't pinpoint it."

Paul. Uncle Paul. My own family.

If he tried before, he'll try again.

"What do we do?" I asked.

"We end this, love," he said. "That's what I've been trying to do. I wasn't hiding anything from you for the sake of it, Poppy. I wanted to search everywhere first. I needed the truth."

I didn't know what to think or feel. I sank into the couch across from William, wondering how we'd gotten to this point. I wasn't close to my family, especially after my mother passed away.

The last time I had been in a room with everyone was at her funeral. Since then, I'd been avoiding them. They were nasty, heel-wearing, and diamond cufflink-buying people who thought they deserved more than they should.

I knew that I had been away from the family for ages, but I didn't think that one of my own was trying to… kill me?

"For money?" I whispered.

William reached for my hand. "Come," he said, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Let's have some dinner. I did cook, but don't have any high expectations."

We sat at the dinner table, and William poured us glasses of red wine. Then, he told me everything.

"Audrey was onto Paul after I told her to look into him. She found that he was in a motel not far from your accident and that he had checked in about an hour before. So, she continued digging, but I think he figured it out somehow. She disappeared soon after she admitted that someone was following her around."

"Do you think he killed Audrey?" I asked, my throat dry.

"I think he did. She's been quiet for a few weeks now. I don't know, Poppy. I wanted to keep you away from this, but now I'm thinking that I need your help to end this."

We sat together for hours, putting our thoughts together and coming up with a plan.

The next morning, I called Paul.

"Uncle Paul," I said softly. "It's Poppy…"

"My sweet girl," he said smoothly. "It's been a long time since I've heard your voice."

"Uncle Paul, I don't know what it means. I think someone was looking into my accident," I said, using the exact words that William and I had rehearsed the night before.

He was quiet for a moment.

"What do you mean sweetheart?"

"I think there was a woman, someone who knew something. She left me a note, but I don't understand it. I was hoping maybe you could help me figure it out."

And just like that, Paul took the bait.

"A woman? Who?" he asked.

"I don't know, Uncle Paul. The note said something about a meeting, and there was an earring. I thought maybe William was hiding something, but now I'm scared."

"Where are you, sweetheart?" he asked. "Let's talk about this. Should I meet you at home? Would you like to come here?"

"Not home," I replied. "I'm staying at a hotel. Hotel Fairmont. William is away for work, and I didn't want to be alone at home. Come here instead. We can talk here."

"Oh, that's much better," he chuckled. "Room service instead of trying to cook you something."

"You can come by this afternoon, Uncle Paul," I said. "I'm working for most of the day."

"I'll be there. Text me the room number."

And then he hung up.

"You were perfect," William said. "I was almost convinced."

When Paul walked through the hotel room door, William was hiding in the closet, phone in hand, recording everything.

"Tell me everything," Paul said when he settled himself down. He looked through the room service menu while I spoke.

"I don't know much," I said. "Just that someone was trying to dig into my accident. I didn't think anything of it at the time, it was late and I was tired. I should have asked William to fetch me from the office instead of driving."

"And you trusted William? Even then? You weren't scared of him? That's what you said on the phone."

"No, not scared of my husband. I was scared of... the unknown. What if the accident wasn't an accident?"

"Do you think William is cheating on you?" he asked. "I think maybe he is... it's the only thing that makes sense. And why would a random woman leave you a note? She's probably his mistress."

"William wouldn't do that!" I said, trying to sound shocked.

"Honey, with the amount of money that you have to your name, trust me, anyone will change."

"Like you, you mean?" I said softly.

He wanted to frame William.

When William and I had rehearsed my act the night before, there was more to the build-up. I was supposed to speak about Audrey more, to let my paranoia take over. But looking at Paul, and how easily he tried to create doubt in my mind, I wanted everything to be over with. Quickly.

"How honest are you willing to be right now?" I asked.

"Depends on what you're asking, Poppy."

"Tell me the truth, about my accident. You wanted me gone, didn't you? If I don't have kids, and if something happens to me, my trust is yours, isn't it, Uncle Paul? I saw the paperwork," I lied. "My father made it so, didn't he?"

Paul looked at me for a moment, his gaze burning into my skin.

"How do know that? What do you know?" he asked.

"That you planned my accident. My husband has been working with investigators. You checked into a motel close to the scene. Were you driving the other car?"

"No," he sniggered. "I won't play games with my life. I hired someone. That's why there wasn't another car. They drove into you and got away."

"So, you admit it?" I gasped. "That easily."

"Well, it's just the two of us here, Poppy. Who cares? I could kill you right now."

"You could," I said simply, although I was shaking. "But first, tell me everything, Paul. I want to know it all."

"I suppose you're right," he said. "You deserve to know everything. And I'm not going to let you leave this room alive. I can spin it, Poppy. I can say that you called me to say that you were afraid of William... so you came here. But he found you anyway. Yes, that's the story we'll go with."

I remained silent. Every fiber of my body wanted me to run out. But William was here. He was just behind a door. He would keep me safe.

"Poppy, you were supposed to stay sick. You were supposed to get weaker and eventually sign your trust over to me. I was going to visit you every day and slowly convince you that William wanted you for your money. I was going to throw a cheating rumor in, too."

I gasped.

"But then you got transferred," he continued, pacing the room. "And I knew that I had to wait. For another opportunity. Goodness, Poppy, you ruined everything. It's been what, almost a year since the accident, but William kept you away like a little bird. It's been difficult to try anything. You haven't even been around the family."

"So what? The accident…"

"It should have worked," he said, turning to look at me. "But you just wouldn't die, would you?"

William opened the closet door and smiled.

"And that's all we needed."

Moments later, the police arrived.

Paul chuckled darkly. "She's at the bottom of the river. Or maybe she's floating around somewhere. But she's definitely… dead."

William's face fell.

"Oh," he muttered. "You monster!"

The next few moments were Paul's recollections of Audrey's... death. How he had realized she was watching him and turned the tables. How he had cornered her and was able to overpower her.

"She was so tiny," Paul sneered, already in handcuffs. "It was too easy."

William told the police officers to take him away.

"Let him rot away," he said.

"Oh, he will," one of the officers said. "We'll make sure of it. And that confession will help."

In the end, William and I went home. It was a long time before anything felt remotely normal again. I couldn't believe that my own blood had been on a mission to kill me. How could we have been involved in such a web of lies? How could someone have wanted me dead? All for money?

But one morning, the world felt lighter. My heart felt lighter. I buried Audrey's earring in the garden, in between our rose bushes.

"Poppy?" William said, coming up behind me. "What are you doing?"

"Burying Audrey's earring," I said. "Maybe she'll be at peace... you know?"

"Hey, you're safe now, Poppy."

I smiled.

And maybe I believed it.

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This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.