When Eileen feels that something is off with her husband, James, she hires a private investigator. But a few weeks into the investigation, the investigator wants to call it off.
But why?
What could James be up to that even an investigator doesn’t want to delve into?
At 33, and after being with James for so long, I thought I knew everything about my husband. We’ve been married for four years, and in the beginning, we were on the same page about the future.
We decided that we didn’t want kids right away.
First, we needed to settle into life, leave our cramped apartment, buy a house, and build the kind of financial security that would make raising a family easier.
That’s exactly where we are now: in a white two-story house with a yard, savings in the bank, and two rock-solid careers. I’m an editor at a top-tier magazine, and James runs a cybersecurity team for a large corporation.
On paper, everything is perfect.
So, why does it feel like my husband is slipping away?
Lately, James has been acting… off.
He’s constantly on his phone with late-night calls that end the moment I walk into the room. Sometimes I catch the faintest whiff of a perfume that definitely isn’t mine.
And, my God, the lies are subtle, but they’re there.
His attention is elsewhere, like he’s living in some parallel world I just can’t access. I’ve spent hours lying awake, imagining the worst.
At first, I tried convincing myself that I was overreacting. But that morning at work, I couldn’t keep it in.
During a break, I found myself unloading on my colleague, Rachel, who sat across from me at the long, glass conference table.
“I just know something’s wrong, Rach,” I muttered, shaking my salad. “He’s been taking weird calls and coming home smelling like… like another woman.”
Rachel gave me a sympathetic look, one that made me feel both seen but also stupid.
“Have you asked him about it?”
“Of course,” I said. “He just brushes me off, saying that it’s work.
But I can tell he’s lying.”
I rested my elbows on the table, fighting back the lump rising in my throat.
“What if he’s seeing someone else? How am I supposed to start a family with him if I can’t trust him?”
Rachel was quiet. Then she leaned in slightly, dropping her voice.
“Listen… if you want real answers, there’s someone I know who can help.”
“What, like a therapist?” I asked.
“No!
A private investigator.”
I blinked, thrown off by how casually she said it, like it was normal to hire someone to tail your husband.
She must have noticed my hesitation because she continued speaking quickly.
“Look, you’re obviously going through it, Eileen. If you need clarity, and I mean real clarity, this guy can give it to you. I know someone who used him before, and she got answers fast.
No fluff, just the truth.”
The idea felt heavy and strange, like I was crossing some invisible line. But at the same time, a flicker of hope stirred inside me.
“How do I contact him?” I asked.
Rachel scribbled a name and number from her phone onto a piece of paper.
“His name’s Benson. He’s discreet.
He’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
But what if he is really cheating on me?
The thought is always a gut punch, but if I’m ever going to build a family with this man, I need to know the truth. So, I decided to take Rachel’s advice and hire a private investigator.
I met Benson in a dimly lit café, my stomach twisted into knots as I told him everything.
“Those late-night calls cannot be work-related,” I said, stirring my coffee. “There’s something more.
There has to be more. It’s a gut feeling, Benson.”
Benson stirred his own cup of coffee slowly.
“Eileen,” he said. “I’ve been in this business for a long time.
More often than not, when someone thinks their spouse is cheating, they’re right. You need to be prepared for whatever we find.”
I nodded.
“I need you to understand that properly,” he pushed. “Whatever we find, there’s no going back, Eileen.”
I knew the risks.
I knew that once Benson pulled the curtain back, there’d be no going back to blissful ignorance.
The days that followed were agony. Every time James glanced at his phone, my pulse spiked. At work, I buried myself in deadlines, trying to keep my mind from spiraling.
I was sitting at the office, going through the final layout of the upcoming issue, when my phone rang.
Benson was finally calling me back. His voice was tense, and something about it chilled me.
“Eileen, we need to stop,” Benson said. “We need to drop the investigation for both of our sakes.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
What could be so bad?
“What?
Why?” I gasped.
“There’s a lot more going on here than we realized. Trust me, this is bigger than you think, and it’s safer if we let it go.”
I sat frozen, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles ached. A private investigator, someone used to digging up dirt on the most dangerous people, was now too scared to continue?
What had Benson uncovered about James?
Was my husband tangled in something even darker than infidelity?
But Benson refused to say more.
“Keep the money,” he muttered before hanging up. “I don’t want it.”
That night, sleep evaded me completely. I kept imagining James as someone unrecognizable.
Suddenly, he was a stranger wearing the face of the man I married.
I had to know what was happening. If Benson wouldn’t help, I’d figure it out myself.
“Come on, Eileen,” I said. “You can do this.”
I bought hidden cameras and a voice recorder, planning to plant them in James’ car and his home office.
If he wasn’t going to tell me the truth, I’d find it myself.
But while installing a camera in his study, I stumbled upon something that made my skin crawl.
There were already hidden cameras installed. Cameras that I’d never seen before. One in our bedroom.
One in the hallway. The living room. Even the kitchen.
I’d never noticed them before.
My chest tightened as I stared at the tiny lens tucked into the corner of our bedroom.
Honestly, who was James?
Why was our home wired like this?
My mind spiraled, panic taking over.
Was James monitoring me? Was I living inside a prison disguised as a marriage? I felt trapped and unsafe, and before I could stop myself, I grabbed a suitcase and started packing.
“Annie, I need you to talk me down from a panic attack,” I said, putting my phone on speaker when my best friend answered.
“Okay, Eileen,” she said calmly.
“Talk to me. What’s going on? What triggered you?”
“James…” I said.
“I found hidden cameras in the house. I don’t know why they’re here. I don’t know what to do.
I’m not okay, Annie!”
“Breathe,” she said slowly. “I need you to breathe. What are you doing?
Are you home?”
“I’m home,” I sighed. “And now, I’m packing a bag.”
“Why?” Annie asked. “Where are you going?”
“Are you seriously asking me that question?” I asked, packing my pajamas.
“I’m trying to understand,” Annie said.
I needed to get out.
I needed to go somewhere else. To my parents’ house, or anywhere that didn’t have hidden cameras watching my every move.
“I’ll speak to you later. When I’m settled,” I said.
That’s when James walked in.
He stopped in my doorway, taking in the open suitcase and my trembling hands.
“Darling, what’s going on?” he asked.
I stood frozen for a moment, then pointed at the camera in the corner of our bedroom.
“Why are there cameras in our house, James?
What the hell is going on?” I shrieked.
To my surprise, he didn’t get angry.
Instead, he smiled, like I’d caught him in some harmless prank.
“How did you find them?” he asked, his voice calm, almost amused. “Were you trying to install a camera too?”
The absurdity of his response made me want to scream.
“Yes! I thought you were cheating on me!
But this… I don’t know,” I gestured wildly at the camera, my voice cracking. “This is worse! You’ve been watching me.
Why, James? Who are you?”
My husband let out a long sigh and stepped closer.
“I’ll explain everything, Eileen,” he said. “Just, please, try to understand.”
I nodded.
“I told you I work in cybersecurity, yes?” James began slowly.
“That’s not the entire truth… I’m not just a cybersecurity kind of guy, darling. I’m an agent.”
My stomach dropped.
“An agent?” I repeated, the word tasting foreign in my mouth. “What… What kind of agent?”
“I’m with the Secret Service,” he said, his voice steady but his expression careful.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page. Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
