IVF Doc Exposed Cheating Wife In Our Bedroom, Freed A Forced Bar Girl & Rebuilt His Life Completely

Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:02):
Hullo, thank you for being here wherever you find yourself.
Welcome to cheating all the time. I am lady Truth.
Let's get into another crazy cheat. One hundred forty m
The phone buzzed Curtis work. I stared at the screen,
a cold weight settling in my chest. It wasn't the

(00:23):
first time. The next night I found the credit card
statements a hotel in a different city, room service for
two midnight spa treatments. My hands tightened around the paper.
The lies were no longer whispers in my head. They
were right in front of me. Then the front door clicked.
I wasn't supposed to be home yet. I stood in

(00:45):
the shadows as she whispered, be quiet, you might still
beat out. The bedroom door opened. My phone was already recording.
She gasped. He scrambled for his clothes. I just watched, calm, silent,
letting the weight of the truth crush her before I
ever said a word. Dear listeners, before we dive into

(01:06):
today's story, let us know your location in the comments section,
and don't forget to like and subscribe. Now let's begin
the story. I remember the day I first sensed something
unraveling in my marriage as though it were captured on
a photograph, the edges beginning to fade In that image.
I'm standing in the living room of our aunt's cozy

(01:28):
suburban house, wearing a charcoal suit that Amber picked out
for me. She was always good at styling me, said
I had the height for well fitted suits. The overhead
light cast a bright reflection across the floor, and on
the couch sat two potential investors in my female libido
medication start up. It was a small gathering for business networking,

(01:49):
just a few colleagues, some partners from the pharmaceutical world. Amber,
my wife, looked dazzling in a navy blue cocktail dress,
but she also appeared distant. Maybe I was too busy
explaining the concept of my new medication to notice precisely
how her posture had changed, or how her laugh with
certain guests seemed a bit too forced, or how she'd

(02:10):
glance at her phone more than usual. But that was
the moment. If I freeze frame the memory, there's a
shadow in her eyes. I brush it off that night,
attributing it to fatigue. We had big plans then, me
and IVF specialist, branching out into biotech and her a
marketing ace and pharmaceutical sales. We used to cheer each

(02:32):
other on. We used to say, we'll be unstoppable together. Yet,
as the living room chatter carried on, I noticed one
man in particular, Curtis, a coworker of Ambers. He was
leaning in very close. When he spoke to her. He
had this big laugh that boomed across the conversation. Amber
responded with a smile that I didn't recognize. It was polite,

(02:55):
maybe a bit flirtatious. It teased at something beneath the surface.
I tried to shrug it off. People in marketing are
often extroverted, right, could be nothing. The night ended with
me clinking glasses in a half hearted toast, while she
stood across the room with Curtis, their heads bent, phone
screens shining in their hands. On any other day, I

(03:18):
might have teased her about it, but something about her
expression told me that my teasing might land badly. I
told myself, let it go, Brandon. She's just excited about
a new project that I tasted bitter in my mouth,
but I needed it. Then. Once upon a time, Amber
used to text me mid day from her office, little

(03:40):
updates about her lunch or a silly meme or an
I miss you if she was traveling. That habit gradually disappeared.
At first, I thought she was simply swamped. She'd been
assigned bigger responsibilities in her pharmaceutical marketing job, constant travel
to different conferences, building relationships with hospitals, procurement managers. I

(04:01):
remember thinking that's good for her, she's leveling up. But
leveling up soon became living separate lives instead of cooking
dinner together or sipping coffee. On Sunday mornings, we barely overlapped.
I'd leave for my IVF clinic early, and by the
time I got back, she'd be out with clients. Sometimes

(04:22):
I'd find a post it note back late. Don't wait up.
The call logs on her phone were always short. Apparently
she wasn't calling me, so who was she calling. One evening,
she strolled in wearing a crisp pencil skirt and a
faint perfume I didn't recognize. She tossed her keys on
the kitchen counter and gave me a half smile that

(04:44):
didn't reach her eyes. I'm beat, Brandon, she said, dropping
her purse with a thud. Conference calls all day don't
even ask. Then she retreated to the shower without a word.
More the water ran, but my mind churned, something about
the the tension in her face, the way she turned
away to hide the faint pink flush in her cheeks.

(05:05):
Let's just say I'm a doctor. I read body language
as well as lab results. She seemed rattled. Late that night,
I found her phone buzzing at one forty a m dot.
The screen glowed Curtis work. The label work got under
my skin. Amber claimed he was a helpful co worker
for big deals, traveling with her to meet hospital buyers.

(05:28):
But what work call needed to happen at nearly two
in the morning the next day. I asked about it
gentle as I could. Hey, you got a late call
from Curtis last night. Everything okay? She brushed me off
with a flippant He was freaking out over next week's presentation.
I had to calm him down. That was her entire explanation,

(05:50):
no apology, no sense that it might look suspicious. She
rolled her eyes like I was a paranoid child. This
is how it is in marketing. She added, long hours,
weird phone calls. Then she tapped away on her phone
ignoring me. I tried to push that disquiet aside, chalking
it up to the demands of her field. But from

(06:11):
that moment on, I started noticing more the way she'd
keep her phone angled away when she texted, the way
her ring my grandmother's diamond that I'd had reset for
Amber stopped appearing on her finger. When I asked, she
said some clients preferred dealing with someone who seems unattached.
It's just sales, Brandon, she said it so matter of factly.

(06:34):
It's stung. I've always been methodical, a trait honed from
years of fertility work. IVF is a delicate science, requiring
precise data tracking, so it wasn't out of character for
me to sit down with our credit card statements just
to be sure everything lined up. I can still see
the dining table, my laptop, a lamp pulling a soft

(06:55):
glow over receipts. Amber was gone that night, claiming she
was in a clo ciant diner across town. The statements
told a different story. I found a cluster of hotel
charges in another city about an hour away on nights.
She swore she was flying out early tomorrow. The time
stamps were bizarre, like a room service order at midnight,

(07:17):
spa services at one a m. My chest tightened. We
had enough money that these charges weren't catastrophic, but they
were suspicious. Two entrees, two cocktails back to back, one
or two odd transactions might be explained away as comps
for potential buyers, but this was consistent. I jotted notes

(07:37):
double meal, wine for two extra day, unaccounted for. Then
the real blow, a charge from a hotel in a
city that wasn't even on her official itinerary. I actually
closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath. I
willed myself to remain calm, thinking maybe her plans changed
last minute, but my gut knew better. My mind reeled

(07:59):
with the name Curtis. Could it be him? At two
a m. That night, I found myself outside on our
back porch, staring at the sky. A mild breeze ruffled
the leaves. I gripped the railing so hard my palm's hurt.
Was I going to confront her or wait, gather more
data be absolutely sure? I decided to wait, because if

(08:20):
I confronted her prematurely and it was all just a
work thing, I'd blow up our marriage over a misunderstanding.
But oh, how the seeds of doubt were sprouting. It
was a Tuesday when the tension erupted. I'd been working
on a brand new embryo viability protocol at my clinic,
so I was bone tired. Upon returning home. Amber's car

(08:40):
was in the driveway, which was rare. Usually she came
home after I'd already crashed. I walked in, dropping my
bag by the door, only to see the living room dark.
A faint glow from the back yard told me she
was outside. Curious, I tiptoed over and saw her silhouette
through the glass door, phone pressed to her ear. Her

(09:01):
posture was rigid, her voice hushed. The conversation ended abruptly
when she spotted me. She jumped, nearly dropping the phone. Brandon,
you're up late, she snapped, like I'd committed a crime
just by existing. I tried to keep my voice even
heard you out here. Everything okay. My question sounded bigger

(09:22):
than it was, but my nerves were taut, expecting some explanation.
She tucked her hair behind her ear, eyes flickering. It's
it was Curtis a quick sigh. He stressed about tomorrow's
big pitch. You know how these deals can be. I
can't let him fail. I watched her searching for a
crack in her story. Does that require phone calls at midnight?

(09:45):
She stiffened. What are you implying that I'm cheating? God, Brandon,
your jealousy is suffocating. She turned away, shoulders trembling. I
can't handle this right now. If you don't trust me,
say it so men, any things soared to my lips?
How about the hotels, the phone secrecy, the ring you

(10:05):
don't wear? But I swallowed them, exhaling slowly. Fine, I said,
we'll talk in the morning. She stormed inside, and I
heard the bedroom door slam. I remained there the night,
air wrapping me in a lonely chill. That was the
first time I truly felt our marriage teetering on the
brink of destruction. Another few days of brittle silence passed

(10:28):
in the house. Amber schedule was even more random now,
or maybe she was actively avoiding me. We'd grown used
to living like polite strangers under one roof. Then I
decided it was time. I scrolled through my contacts to
an old phone number for Sophia, a private investigator with
ties to the security world and biotech. She picked up,

(10:50):
and I recognized her measured tone. She'd done some investigative
work for a friend of mine who suspected corporate espionage.
I felt a little slow. I'memball ish calling her about
my personal life, but my mind screamed for proof, Doctor Lockwood.
It's been a while, Sophia said politely. I forced a
small laugh. Sophia, I need your help in a domestic situation.

(11:14):
I apologize if it's not your usual corporate case. She
responded with warmth. I handle all sorts of investigations, Brandon,
discretion is my promise. Tell me what's going on. My
throat tightened, and I explained the gist, suspicious travel logs,
weird credit card bills, intangible shifts in Amber's behavior. I

(11:36):
heard my own voice shaking heart humiliation, part heart break.
Sophia took notes, reassured me no judgments. She'd check ambers work, trips, hotels,
phone logs, the whole thing. You'll have clarity, she said, softly,
as if sensing how fragile my world felt. I hung up,
slumping onto my couch, face in my hands. In that moment,

(12:00):
heartbreak co existed with a faint relief. Soon I'd know
the truth for sure. An unexpected message arrived one afternoon
from Wesley, a lab tech who'd once collaborated with Amber's department.
We'd met at a dinner last year. He seemed nice enough.
He asked to meet in private. Intrigued and anxious, I agreed.

(12:21):
We ended up in the corner booth of a quiet cafe.
Wesley looked uneasy. He fiddled with his coffee mug before speaking. Look,
I don't want trouble, but I keep hearing rumors about
Curtis bragging, bragging about some married co worker. He's you know,
he paused, eyebrows knitted in apology. He never named her.

(12:42):
But everything lines up Amber schedule her marketing role. I
can't just watch you be in the dark. I felt
a visceral pang, like my stomach had dropped. The swirling
suspicions hammered in my chest. I forced myself to remain calm.
Thank you for telling me. I appreciate your honesty. My
voice was tight, controlled all the while I was screaming

(13:06):
inside it's real. She's with him, She's with him. Wesley
reached out to pat my arm. I'm sorry, man, I
hate gossip, but you deserve to know, I nodded, swallowing
the lump in my throat. Better an ugly truth than
a comfy lie. I left that cafe in a haze,
stepping into bright sunlight that felt mocking. Another piece of

(13:29):
the puzzle had fallen into place, and every piece spelled
out betrayal. A sense of raw determination flooded me. My
heart break turned to steel. If Amber was indeed cheating,
I wasn't going to beg or wail. I'd approach it
like i'd approach a complicated fertility procedure, gather evidence, confirmed data,
then take decisive action. No time for illusions or naivete.

(13:53):
Her next conference trip was set for two weeks out,
perfect timing for Sophia's full report. Two weeks to prepare mentally,
to check finances and property details. I discreetly transferred some
funds into a personal account, just in case. The level
of secrecy I was adopting felt surreal, but so was

(14:13):
my life. Right then, late one night, I found myself
in my office staring at a framed wedding photo of us.
Amber wore that luminous smile, holding my arm in her
wedding gown I rubbed my temples, recalling how I'd been
so sure we'd grow old together, build a family. We
even talked about kids at some point, but we'd each

(14:35):
been so busy with our careers. Now that dream seemed
laughably distant. If you had asked me six months prior
how I'd handle marital betrayal, I might have said something naive,
like we'd fix it, we'd talk. But standing in that office,
I realized trust, once broken, is rarely repaired, at least
not in my book. Maybe love remains, but respect dies.

(14:58):
The man I wanted to be wouldn and grovel for
affection from a woman who had tossed me aside for
cheap thrills. During the final days leading to her trip,
Amber was strangely cordial. She came home at a normal hour,
made small talk about the new CFO at her job,
asked about my research. It felt forced, but I played along,

(15:18):
half tempted to pretend everything was normal. We even watched
a show on Netflix one evening, though neither of us
laughed at the jokes. My heart pounded as I pictured
the hidden files Sofia would soon deliver. One morning, I
found a note from Amber, stuck to the fridge, dinner
with Curtis and potential buyers tonight, don't wait up. The

(15:40):
words Curtis and potential buyers glared at me like neon signs.
I left that note on the counter, ironically calm. The
anger was still there, but overshadowed by an almost clinical curiosity.
How far had she fallen? The tension in the air
was thick enough to choke. Every conversation was life with caution.

(16:01):
She avoided my gaze, and I stopped asking about her day.
We slept in the same bed, but might as well
have been continents apart. In my mind, I was counting
down twelve days left, ten days seven. Sometimes I'd catch
her glancing at me with an unreadable expression, as though
she sensed my detachment. I never confronted her directly, though

(16:24):
I wanted the final blow to be decisive, fueled by
undeniable facts. At last, the day of her big trip
arrived early in the morning. She rolled a small suit
case down the hallway, phone glued to her ear. When
she noticed me, she gave a stiff nod. I'll be
back in five days, or maybe six if negotiations run long.

(16:46):
I just nodded back safe travels. She blinked, perhaps surprised
by my coolness. Usually I'd ask about flight times or
hotel details. Maybe you offer to drive her, But I
did none of that. She hesitated, opened her mouth as
if to say something, then just muttered by Brandon and
stepped out the door. I stared at the closed door

(17:08):
for a long moment, evrenalin pumping. This was it, This
was the trip that would confirm everything. I grabbed my
phone and dialed Sophia voice steady, it's happening, She's gone.
Let me know when you have the evidence. My heart
hammered a swirl of dread and grim anticipation. That same day,

(17:28):
I arranged for a short overnight at a friend's place,
someone not close to Amber, so if she tried to
do anything suspicious at home, she'd find the house empty,
all possible angles covered. Seeing alone in my car that evening,
I reflected on how much had changed. My marriage was
on the brink of collapse, and yet I felt oddly calm,

(17:50):
as though I'd already mourned it. The radio played softly.
I switched it off, not wanting any external noise, gazing
at the empty passenger seat where Amber used to sit,
I thought of the times we sang along to favorite
songs during road trips, how we'd laugh at inside jokes
about other drivers. Now that seat felt like a ghost,

(18:12):
But beneath that calm, a deep sadness pulsed. I tried
to bury it under logic, I deserve better. If she
had the audacity to do this, then so be it.
My reaction would be swift, final, and strategic. In one
of my clinic's counseling rooms, we often talk to couples
about the heartbreak of infertility, but heartbreak of betrayal is

(18:34):
a different beast. Entirely, no medical procedure can fix a
shattered vow. It's personal, raw and humiliating. Yet I reminded myself,
I'm not a victim. I choose how to respond, and
I'd respond with dignity. No screaming meltdown, no pathetic please,
just an iron determination disever tize, to punish her legally

(18:56):
if needed, and to stand unshaken that vow steady me.
I started the engine and drove off, forging a new
direction for my life. Amber had been gone two days
when I got the phone call. It was mid evening
and I was hunched over my laptop revising a research proposal.
The ring jolted me. The upright. Sophia's calm voice spilled through, Brandon,

(19:20):
I have something you should see instantly, my pulse sword.
She explained that her team had obtained discreet photographs of
Amber entering a suite at the Redwood Hotel with a
man who matched Curtis's description. They had images from multiple nights,
Amber hugging him in a hallway, exchanging kisses outside a
conference room after hours, even explicit text messages room four

(19:43):
hundred fifteen is open, come up after your dinner wraps.
My face burned as I took it all in. I
forced my voice steady. Email them to me. Thank you, Sophia,
I owe you. She assured me she'd remain on stand
by if I needed more. After the call ended, I
stayed silent, phone trembling in my grip. So there it

(20:05):
was ireclad confirmation. I learned from Sophia that Amber planned
to check out of the Redwood Hotel the next day,
her conference presumably ended earlier than she told me. Something
snapped inside me. I recall shoving clothes into a bag,
getting in my car, driving through the night. My plan
appeared at home before she got back. Wait and catch

(20:27):
them if they were bold enough to head to our
marital bed. If not, I'd confront her an away enough allusions,
The drive felt interminable. My mind replayed old memories, our
first date, our wedding, her laughter echoing in the kitchen
as we tried a new recipe. Then those images warped
into the reality of her pressed against Curtis in some

(20:50):
fancy hotel corridor. A swirl of rage and heartbreak battered me.
By the time I pulled into our driveway at eleven
p m. My hands were shaking. The house was dark.
I let myself in quietly. Around one a m. I
heard the front door's lock click. My pulse thundered. I
flicked off the lamp and crept behind a corner. Amber's

(21:13):
voice murmured, followed by a low male voice. My heart
nearly seized. They came in together. Furious adrenaline coursed through me.
This was my home, our home, and she'd brought him here.
I prayed for self control, not wanting to do something reckless. Instead,
I heard footsteps toward the bedroom, quiet laughter. The bedroom

(21:35):
door closed A few moments later, muffled voices. My jaw
clenched so hard it ached, summoning my nerve, I pressed
record on my phone's camera and marched down the hall.
The door was partly open. I could see them entangled
on the bed. Curtains parted to reveal moonlight shimmering on them.
Curtis's shirt was off, Amber's blouse unmuttoned. My stomach churned

(21:59):
with discover but I forced myself to speak calmly, having fun.
They both jerked up. Amber gasped, yanking the blanket over them.
Curtis cursed, face going ashen be Brandon, you you were
supposed to be. I stared at them, trying to keep
my tone cold rather than raging. I was supposed to
be out of town. Yes, but you know schedule's change.

(22:23):
My phone was still capturing video in my hand. Don't
even bother with excuses. I already have proof. Amber's eyes
welled with tears, shock painted across her face. Brandon, let
me let me explain, She stammered, this isn't what it
looks like, but of course it was exactly what it

(22:44):
looked like. Curtis jumped off the bed, rummaging for his pants. Dude,
we didn't mean I never wanted to. He was stuttering nonsense.
I pinned him with a glare that could curdle milk.
Get out, I said, voice, slow, get out of my house. Now,
don't even try to talk. He scrambled, muttering apologies, nearly

(23:06):
tripping as he fled the bedroom. Within seconds, I heard
him clumsily race down the hall, slamming the front door
behind him. Amber remained there, disheveled, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She reached for me, but I stepped back. Don't, I warned.
My voice shook with contained fury. You lied to me,

(23:26):
You brought him into our bed. You do realize that
the worst part right? She started babbling excuses. It's not
about love. It was just physical. I was lonely because
you always bury yourself in your clinic. And I held
up a hand. Stop blaming me for your affair. My
wedding ring felt like a lead weight on my finger.

(23:48):
In a swift motion, I yanked it off and dropped
it on to the nights and I'm done. Amber. She
fell to her knees, tears intensifying. Brandon, No, I can
fix this. I'll break it off with Curtis, I swear,
I was just I got caught up in the excitement.
I still love you, I do. A hollow laugh escaped

(24:10):
my lips. You love me, that's rich. This is how
you show it. Enough. Anger flared so hot I could
barely breathe, but I forced composure. No matter how savage
my heart break, I refuse to be the weeping, pitiful husband.
Pack your things, or I'll pack them for you. In fact,
I'm leaving tonight. You can do whatever the hell you

(24:33):
want with this place, my mind world. As I found
a small suit taste, I threw in just enough clothes
for a few days, ignoring her sobbing. She tried grabbing
my arm, but I shook her off. She pleaded, repeating,
don't go, let's talk, Let's try counseling. The words fell
on deaf ears. Counseling wouldn't resurrect my trust in her.

(24:57):
Some part of me was numb and overried. That let
me me keep from physically lashing out. I've got everything recorded,
I reminded her, phone still in my hand, so don't
attempt any nonsense in divorce court. If you fight me,
I'll bury you with the evidence. Amber's eyes went wide.
You do that Brandon, You're not that cruel She trailed

(25:19):
off as she realized how real it was. Cruelty, I
retorted with a bitter smile. You want to talk cruelty
after you paraded your affair in our bed. I guess
we're both seeing each other's true colors now. She shrank back, sobbing.
I'm sorry, she whispered, but it was empty. Leaving the
house at two a m. Felt surreal. The air outside

(25:41):
was crisp, and a swirl of memories assaulted me as
I stepped into my car. Our old life together, our laughter,
None of it could stand in the face of her
brazen betrayal. The heartbreak coiled around me, but I kept
a firm handle on my anger. I called my attorney friend, Nicole,
right from the driver's seat, ignoring the hour. She picked up, alarmed, Brandon,

(26:05):
what's happened, I exhaled, Amber's cheating. I caught them in
my bedroom. My tone was flat. I'm done. File the divorce,
name adultery as the cause, push for no spousal support.
I have evidence. Nicole didn't sound surprised, only sorrowful. I'm
so sorry. I'll start the paperwork immediately. Are you safe

(26:28):
I stared at the dark street. Yes, I'll handle it.
Then I ended the call. It was official. I had
set the wheels in motion. I spent the next day
in a cheap motel, ignoring Amber's frantic calls. Her voice
males ranged from sobbing apologies to defensive rants. I listened
to one or two, just enough to confirm it was

(26:50):
the same cycle. She'd claim, regret, then shift blame onto me.
I deleted them all that afternoon. I instructed my bank
to freeze our joint account accept for essential mortgage payments.
I canceled the supplementary credit card she used. My CFO
alerted me to suspicious charges from the Redwood Hotel's SPA.

(27:10):
Already handled, I said, coolly cancel them. If she wanted
to keep up her escapades, she could pay from her
own pocket. My sense of justice flickered. Why did I
ever trust her with open access to my finances? A
quiet fury guided me, No more illusions, no more room
for her in my life. I told my clinic staff

(27:32):
not to release any personal info to missus Lockwood. We
were effectively separated by day's end. I felt the enormity
of it all. My marriage was in ashes, and I
had incinerated the last bridges willingly. Yet a slender part
of me felt relief, like a bleeding wound had finally
been cauterized. She showed up at my new lodgings. Somehow

(27:55):
she found out where I was staying, banging on the door.
When I opened it, a crack or mascara was smudged,
tears glistening. She looked utterly miserable. Brandon, Please, I'm losing
my mind not hearing from you. We can fix this.
Talk about therapy or a separation if you need time.
Just don't shut me out. I made a mistake, a mistake,

(28:19):
I repeated quietly. You call repeated hotel trysts with your
coworker a slip of the mind. That's not a mistake,
that's a pattern. She tried to push the door wide,
stepping forward. You used to love me enough to fight
for us. I placed a hand on the door. I
did love you, but you shattered that trust the moment
you slept with Curtis in our home. No less, there's

(28:43):
no coming back. My voice felt raw. Please leave her
anguish spilled out, wailing that she do anything. But my
heart had turned to stone. I stared into her eyes,
searching for a shred of honesty. All I saw was
self serving desperation, fear of losing the comforts of our life.
I closed the door, hearing her sob for a while

(29:05):
before footsteps retreated. A swirl of complicated emotions churned in me,
but resolution overshadowed them. I refused to go back. Within
a week, I sold my partial ownership in a local
IVF clinic. I'd been nurturing my main biotech start up
roles could be done remotely or from a different location.

(29:26):
Enough ties bound me here to memories of a marriage
that lay in ruins. I wanted a fresh environment, somewhere quiet. Oakfield,
a smaller city a few hours away, offered an opening
for an IVF consultant. Perfect timing. I loaded my suv
with my belongings, closed the trunk, and gave the house's
facade one final look. This had been Ambers and my

(29:48):
dream home. A wave of sadness threatened to break me,
but I reminded myself it was just bricks and wood.
She could have it if she wanted, or it could
rot for all I cared. The day the divorce was finalized,
i'd sign off my share or demand a quick sale.
I was beyond caring. While driving off, I felt a

(30:09):
swirl of heart break and liberation. My phone pinged with
a text from an unknown number. You can't run from me, Brandon,
I'll fight for us. No name attached, but I knew
it was Amber. I turned my phone off, let her
fight if she wanted. I had no intention of rejoining
that battle field. Two weeks after discovering Amber's affair, I

(30:32):
found myself pulling into a modest complex in oak Field,
boxes stacked in the back seat. The place was calmer,
tree lined streets, local diners, not many tall buildings, a
fresh canvass. My new loft was above a small row
of shops, complete with big windows that let in lots
of natural light. It wasn't home yet, but I preferred

(30:54):
it over the echo of betrayal in my old house.
On the morning I met the landlord to pick up keys,
I introduced myself as doctor Brandon Lockwood, an IVF specialist.
He seemed pleased to have a professional tenant, gave me
a short rundown of the neighborhood. Quiet at night, Watch
out for that bar down the street if you don't

(31:15):
like rowdy crowds, but overall folks here are friendly. His
easy smile relaxed me. I spent the next few days
assembling furniture, hooking up my lap hoop to handle remote
duties for my female libido medication start up. Board members
accepted my explanation that personal matters had me relocate, and
they were supportive. Meanwhile, an IVF clinic in Oakfield had

(31:39):
me consulting part time to improve their lab processes. It
felt good to be needed professionally while my personal life
was in shambles. Those first few nights in Oakfield were lonely.
I couldn't stop replaying the confrontation with Amber, the humiliating
images of her and Curtis. My mind wouldn't let me rest.
On the third evening, craving distraction, I strolled around the block,

(32:03):
noticing nenon lights from a place called the Wolf's Den.
The sign flickered and a handful of motorcycles parked out front.
Hinted at a tough crowd. Not quite my usual scene,
but the curiosity tugged. I stepped inside. The interior was dim,
a haze of conversation and guitar music flooding my senses.
Bikers clustered by the bar, a few tables occupied by

(32:27):
men in denim jackets and women wearing tank tops sipping
cheap beer. I took a seat near the end of
the bar, nodded to the bartender quietly requested a local
craft brew. A sense of anonymity washed over me. Nobody
recognized me here as the divorce doc or the CEO.
It felt refreshing. A few seats over, a man gave

(32:48):
me a suspicious glance. I half expected trouble, but then
his attention drifted back to his body good. The place
smelt of spilled liquor and an undercurrent of tension. I
was about to sip my beer when I noticed a
waitress weaving between tables. She was slight of build, with
dark hair pinned back in a functional style, probably mid twenties.

(33:10):
She moved quickly, as if to avoid touching anyone. Her
eyes flicked around warily. When that waitress arrived to deliver
drinks to the two men next to me, I caught
a glimpse of her nametag Linda. She sat down their pints,
forcing a small smile. One of the men let his
gaze linger on her in a leering way. She mumbled

(33:31):
ASoft anything else. He shook his head slowly, a grin
that unsettled me. She turned and hurried off before he
could say something cruder. Something about Linda's posture looked exhausted,
almost defeated. She brushed past me, glancing sideways. In that
split second, our eyes met. I managed a blight nod,

(33:52):
and she nodded back, a flicker of surprise crossing her features.
Then she vanished behind the bar, presumably to grab another oar.
I nursed my beer for a while, noticing how Linda
kept reappearing to drop off drinks, her shoulders stiff each
time she passed certain man. The bartender seemed oblivious or unconcerned. Meanwhile,

(34:13):
the background music shifted from classic rock to a local
band's attempt at a country blues fusion. Eventually, a large
man slumped over a table started shouting obscenities at Linda,
complaining that he wanted more peanuts or a refill. Linda apologized,
but told him the kitchen was closed. He snapped, don't
get smart with me, girl, and made a move as

(34:36):
if to grab her. She flinched back. My instincts flared.
I'd seen enough domestic violence. Victims in the eer to
recognize the dynamic, I slid off my stool, stepping in. Hey,
calm down, I told the drunk voice firm The man
turned bleary eyes on me, muttering something about minding my

(34:56):
own business. Despite the tension, Linda looked at me, gratefully
stepping away while I diverted his aggression. The bartender eventually
lumbered over to diffuse the situation, ordering the man to
leave if he wouldn't chill out. When the dust settled,
Linda disappeared into the back, probably shaken. I felt a
wave of empathy. This bar was obviously not a safe environment,

(35:19):
but maybe she had no choice. My own heartbreak felt
smaller in comparison to her immediate threat. Near closing time,
the crowd thinned. I waited, finishing my beer, not sure
why I was lingering. Linda emerged from the back, wiping
her eyes discreetly. When she approached the bar, I gently
said you okay. She hesitated, then gave a weary shrug.

(35:42):
I'm fine. Sorry you had to see that. I shook
my head, not your fault. That guy was out of line.
For a moment. She simply studied me, Then softly we
get a lot of guys like that here, she swallowed,
shifting on her feet. Most nights are worse. I'm used
to it. The admission stung. You shouldn't have the get

(36:04):
used to that. She tried to smile, but it didn't
reach her eyes. A tense pause followed, as though she
couldn't figure out if I was friend or foe. I
decided to break the ice. I'm Brandon, I said, knew
in town. Obviously figured i'd check out the local scene.
Linda wiped down the counter, glancing around to ensure no eavesdroppers.

(36:27):
I'm Linda, she murmured. Not the best place to get
a local welcome, I guess, I shrugged. Any place with
decent beer is a start, but this environment seems rough,
especially for you. My eyes flicked to bruises on her wrist,
which she tried to hide under her sleeve. She tensed,
noticing my gaze. I quickly added, sorry, not trying to pry.

(36:51):
She sighed, a flush of embarrassment crossing her face. Look,
I just have some debts. Okay, this is the only
job I could find without references. It's complicated. She forced
a half laugh that cracked I'm sure you have your
own problems. I wanted to say something comforting, but hesitated.

(37:11):
My own life was indeed complicated I do, I admitted,
But that doesn't mean I can't care about others. If
you ever need help, well, I know some resources, especially
in health care. She blinked, eyes darting to the surly
bartender at the far end. Lowering her voice, she confided,
I owe some unsavory people. They covered my grandma's surgery costs.

(37:36):
I have no insurance, no savings. Now I'm stuck paying
them back on their terms. They want more interest than
I can handle. People like me were not free to
just walk away. Her voice trembled. Near the end. A
jolt of protectiveness coursed through me. That's not right, I said, firmly.
No matter the debt, they can enslave you. A shadow

(37:58):
of a scoff crossed her lips. Try telling them that
they said they'd hurt my grandma if I refused to comply,
I she cut herself off, glancing away. It's not your problem,
I exhaled, recalling all my sorrow over Amber's betrayal. In comparison,
Linda's predicament sounded more dire. Physical threats forced labor. She

(38:21):
gave me a tight nod, as though dismissing me. So
I stepped back respect for her boundaries. But inside the
wheels were turning. If I could help, should I? My
moral code said yes. My heart still raw, yearned to
do something good for once, to protect someone from injustice.
The bartender called closing time around two a m. I

(38:45):
realized Linda would likely walk out alone into the dark.
Part of me wanted to offer her a ride or
ensure she was safe, but I sensed it might spook
her if I insisted. We parted ways at the door,
her hushed take care lingering in the air. As I
walked back to my loft, the crisp night wind clearing
my head. I couldn't shake the image of her bruised wrists,

(39:08):
the tremor in her voice. She was caught in a
trap of exploitation, reminiscent of the darker corners of society.
I'd seldom encountered. My heart break over Amber felt overshadowed
by Linda's immediate danger. Yet somehow I felt a renewed
spark of energy, like I had a new mission. Confronting
Amber's betrayal had awakened a cold side of me, capable

(39:30):
of decisive action. Maybe that side could do something to
help Linda. Back in my loft, I flicked on the lights.
My phone displayed a few missed calls from a number
I recognized as Amber's new burner phone. She must have
changed numbers after I blocked her main line. This time.
Her voicemail was frantic, Brandon, you can't just vanish I.

(39:53):
I ended it with Curtis. I swear, come back, let's talk.
I was an idiot. I'm sorry. I listened emotionless. The
lying stung because I knew from credit card logs and
phone data that she'd been with Curtis for months. Her
claim to end it now was meaningless. A year ago,
I might have cracked, but not tonight. The contrast between

(40:15):
her betrayal and Linda's dire situation hardened my resolve. I
deleted the voicemail. Slumping on my new couch, I realized
how exhausted I felt. Emotionally battered, but also strangely determined.
Maybe fate had placed me in Oakfield not just to
escape Amber, but to cross paths with Linda. The thought
calmed me enough to drift into a restless sleep Waking

(40:39):
at dawn, I brewed coffee and leaned against the loft window,
gazing over oak fields quaint Main Street. The lingering bitterness
of heartbreak still weighed on my chest, but now an
additional urgency pumped in my veins. I thought about Linda's predicament,
the criminals controlling her. Part of me recognized I might
be meddling in something bigger than me. But I was

(41:02):
a man who'd once believed in doing the right thing.
If my marriages and taught me anything, it was that
letting deceit fester only leads to devastation. Maybe I could
bring clarity to Linda's situation. Maybe I could use my resources, money,
legal connections, the same relentless approach I used to gather
evidence against Amber. I grabbed my phone and called an

(41:24):
old friend, Wesley, who had dabbled in private security. He
answered with a sleepy hello, and I gave him a
quick rundown. I have a friend in trouble, forced into
some shady debts. Might be something we can tackle quietly.
Wesley listened, eventually replying, this is dangerous territory, but I'm
not backing down. If you need me A sense of

(41:46):
relief coursed through me. I wasn't alone in wanting to
fix things. Sipping my coffee, I stared at the rising sun.
Another day, another chance to reshape my life, far from
Amber's betrayals. I'd lost one fight, but I could help
Linda avoid losing hers. That resolve grounded me. The day

(42:07):
after my talk with Wesley, we met in a nondescript
cafe on oak fields outskirts neutral ground, over black coffee.
I explained Linda's predicament, the man named Ramirez and Jackson,
the bar environment, her fear that her grandma's health would
be jeopardized if she resisted. Wesley took notes. Lips tight.

(42:27):
Sounds like a classic case of forced prostitution or extortion,
he murmured grimly. I recalled the sense of violation I
felt when Amber cheated. Linda's ordeal was a thousand times worse.
She was being threatened body and soul. My chest burned
with quiet rage. We can't let them keep her trapped,
I said, voice slow. Wesley nodded, scanning his phone. I

(42:51):
have some contacts who can do background checks on these guys.
We might find a lead to get the law involved,
but we have to be careful. If they find out
Linda ratted them out, she might be in danger, and
so we formed a plan gather intel discreetly, see if
we could interest local or federal authorities in a sting. Meanwhile,

(43:14):
I'd try to keep Linda safe. That night, I returned
to the Wolf's denbar, unsure if Flinda would be there
or if Ramirez's crew might notice me. The place was bustling,
a guitarist playing rock covers up front, neon signs flickering.
I scanned the crowd until I spotted Linda delivering a
round of beers to a table of rowdy bikers. She

(43:35):
looked tense, but her face brightened for a split second
when she recognized me. I found a seat in the corner.
After a few minutes, Linda glided over, whispering, you're back.
Are you sure it's safe for you here? Her eyes
flitted to a couple of shady men near the back,
possibly Ramirez's associates. I shrugged, acting casual, I just like

(43:57):
the local brew it's lightly, then, in a softer tone,
Wesley and I are working on something. We might help
you get out of this, but we need details. She frowned,
hesitation etched on her features. If they find out I
talk to you, it'll be worse. I can't risk it.
I gently tapped the table, mindful of onlookers. We'll be discreet,

(44:21):
I promise, just let me know if there's somewhere safe
you can stay. Once trouble starts. Before she could answer,
a tall man in a leather jacket, likely Ramirez, caught
sight of us and scowled. Linda muttered I got to go,
and rushed off. The tension was palpable. Trying to blend in.
I sipped my beer for an hour, observing Linda's forced

(44:44):
smiles and the man's menacing glares whenever she talked too
long to someone. Finally, I saw an opportunity when Ramirez
cornered her by the jukebox. Her body language screamed distress.
My anger flared, and I stood drifting over to them
under the guise of checking the song list. I heard
Ramira's hiss, you better keep the VIP satisfied tonight, or

(45:06):
your grandma's next procedure might not happen. Linda trembled, eyes wide,
My gut twisted. These scumbags were using literal medical extortion.
I cleared my throat, causing Ramirez to notice me. His
eyes narrowed, Who the hell are you? I gave him
a measured look, A concerned friend. I said, I'll pay

(45:26):
whatever Linda owes. You name the amount, he barked, a laugh,
big shot. We don't just want money. We like having
our girls under control. But if you're offering, He exchanged
a glance with a buddy named Jackson, who smirked. I
refuse to show fear. No more controlling Linda, no forced services.

(45:47):
If I settle her debt, you let her walk free.
They pretended to consider it. Then Jackson sneered, we also
want a favor from you, doc, maybe slip us some
prescriptions or a pipeline for so meds. My blood boiled.
Not happening. I'm a legitimate doctor, not your drug mule.
They shrugged, telling me Linda's debt was significant and a

(46:10):
single buy out might not satisfy them. We can keep
her working off interest if you won't play a ball.
Linda looked at me helplessly. I clenched my fists. You'll
regret this, I said, quietly. You can't keep her. They
just laughed, stepping away. Linda tears brimming mouthed I'm sorry

(46:30):
to me. My heart hammered with fury and protectiveness. After
closing time, when the bar's lights dimmed and the band
had packed up, I lingered outside in the cool night air.
Soon Linda slipped out the back exit, hugging her jacket
around her. She noticed me near a street lamp, her
expression a mixture of relief and anxiety. I approached slowly, Linda.

(46:54):
I know this is terrifying, but we can't let them
keep a stranglehold on you. I can pay your grandma's
medical bills properly, get her into a safer facility. We'll
figure out the rest, legal or otherwise. Tears traced her cheeks.
They're not bluffing, Brandon. They have people in the hospital staff.

(47:14):
They can threaten me in ways you can't imagine. I
gently placed a hand on her shoulder. We have connections too,
I have a network in health care. Let me move
your grandma to a different hospital somewhere they can't intimidate
the staff. Then you're not pinned by them anymore, She sniffled,
letting out a shaky breath. But the debt is huge,

(47:36):
and if they find out you're interfering. They'll come after
both of us. I exhaled, I'm ready to face that.
They don't scare me half as much as betrayal did. Ironically,
I promise we'll do this carefully. Wesley is contacting some
law enforcement folks. May be a sting operation, recorded evidence,

(47:57):
get them locked up. You just have to trust me.
She stared at me, searching my eyes for sincerity. Finally,
she whispered, Okay, I'm so tired of living in fear.
In that moment, an unspoken bond formed. I had once
lost my faith in people thanks to Amber's infidelity, but
Linda's plight reminded me that some battles are worth fighting.

(48:20):
The next day, Wesley arrived at my loft with a
folder of background checks. He set it on my kitchen table.
Ramirez and Jackson small time criminals with the known record
of forcing vulnerable women into prostitution. They sometimes partner with
bigger outfits for drug distribution. Oakfield PD might be compromised.

(48:41):
There's talk of them bribing an officer or two. We
might have to go higher up, like the FBI or
a state task force. I nodded grimly. Then we will.
Linda's given us enough details to suspect trafficking. That's a
federal offense. Wesley frowned. Will need direct evidence, possibly recordings
of them threatening her, or testimonies from other victims. Linda

(49:05):
might have to risk wearing a wire, or we coordinate
a false payoff scenario. The idea of Linda facing them
while miked up terrified me, but logic said it was
our best shot. We have to keep her safe, I insisted.
Wesley nodded. That afternoon, my phone rang from an unknown number.
I sighed, suspecting it might be Amber again. Sure enough,

(49:29):
her voice came through. You can't hide, Brandon, I found
your new address. We need to talk. I scoffed. Hide.
I'm not hiding, just living my life. She demanded we meet.
I refused initially, but her tone turned desperate, laced with
threats about spousal support. I gave up potential promotions for you.

(49:50):
I can prove I deserve alimony. She hissed. My jaw tightened.
You gave up nothing, you cheated. I have evidence. Let's
see how that holds up in court. Then I ended
the call. If she dared show up at my place,
I'd call the copse tossing my phone aside, I realized
how draining amber still was. Yet a flicker of relief

(50:13):
that I'd left overshadowed the dread. My mind soon refocused
on Linda's situation, someone who actually needed help, not just
manipulative theatrics. That evening, I found Linda after her shift,
picking her up from a side street so Ramirez his
men wouldn't see her get into my car. She clutched
a small backpack, eyes darting nervously. They wanted me to

(50:37):
entertain a guy tomorrow, she murmured, I can't do it,
and a more brandon I can't. My resolve hardened. You won't.
We'll set you up in a motel under a fake name.
I'll pay for it. Then we'll get your grand mu transferred.
Tears welled up again, this time with gratitude. I I've
never had a stranger go this far for me. Why

(51:00):
I paused, emotion swirling. Let's just say, I know how
it feels to be betrayed and powerless. I refuse to
watch someone else suffer if I can help, She nodded slowly,
shoulders trembling. Thank you. I don't deserve this kindness. Yes,
you do, I said firmly. Everyone deserves a chance at safety.

(51:21):
After settling Linda in a modest motel, I stood outside
her door with her, explaining that Wesley was working to
coordinate with an FBI contact. We might need you to
help gather evidence. I cautioned that could be risky. She
looked pale but determined. She squeezed my hand. I'll do
whatever it takes to be free. They used me like

(51:43):
a commodity. I want them to pay. Her courage struck me.
She was vulnerable, yet strong in her desperation. I recalled
how ironically powerless I felt in my marriage. Amber's cheating
left me gutted. But here was Linda risking physical harm
yet finding the bravery to fight. That perspective made me

(52:04):
realize how petty Amber's manipulations seemed by comparison. We parted ways,
Linda securing the door behind her. I sank into my
car seat, letting out a long breath. I was stepping
into a battle that could get me in deep trouble,
But for the first time since my marriage collapsed, I
felt I was doing something that mattered. Within days, Nichole

(52:26):
updated me on the divorce progress. Amber was fighting for
spousal support, but Nicholl believed we had the upper hand
as Eldery was proven not to mention flagrant. Meanwhile, Amber
discovered my involvement with Linda in some capacity, maybe from
gossip or trilling me, because she suddenly confronted me at
a local cafe near Oakfield's main square. She marched up,

(52:50):
eyes blazing, spewing nonsense about me cheating on her. The
hypocrisy stunned me. You have the nerve to accuse me,
I snapped, I helped a friend in try that's not cheating.
But you literally slept with your coworker behind my back.
She ranted that I replaced her with a bark girl.
I bit back a vicious retort, focusing on controlling my tone.

(53:12):
You lost me when you chose Curtis. This conversation is over.
People stared as she grew more hysterical. I walked away,
letting her shrieks fade into the background. Her meltdown was
public humiliating for her, but I felt no pity. My
mind was on a more pressing matter, Linda and the sting. Finally,

(53:33):
Wesley secured a short meeting with an FBI agent who
specialized in trafficking. We explained Linda's situation. The agent said,
if Linda agreed to wear a wire and get the
criminals to incriminate themselves, particularly about forcing prostitution or threatening
harm to her grandma, they could be arrested on federal charges.

(53:54):
But Linda would have effaced them again dangerously. I thought
of Linda's trembling hands, how she she flinched at the
mention of Ramirez. The agent told us, if you do this,
we'll coordinate an immediate takedown, but she has to be
in that meeting alone or with minimal back up to
gather the admission. My stomach nodded. It was so risky,

(54:15):
but Linda was ready. She told me, if it sets
me free forever, I'll do it. I squeezed her hand,
my voice resolute. You won't face them alone. We'll have
eyes on you every second. She nodded, swallowing her fear. Meanwhile,
Amber's voice still left vidrilolic messages on my phone demanding
an audience. I deleted them. I had a bigger war

(54:38):
to fight. All day, I couldn't get Linda's trembling voice
out of my head. The plan was that she'd wear
a concealed mic to meet Ramirez, hopefully capturing him making
direct incriminating threats about her forced sex work. My friend
Wesley had arranged for a discreet FBI team to observe
from unmarked vehicles, waiting for that moment of undeniable evidence.

(55:01):
But no matter how I tried to rationalize it, she'll
have back up. The FBI will step in. My gut
turned with anxiety, because if anything went wrong, Linda could
be alone in a room with dangerous criminals, and I'd
be outside, powerless to stop a bullet or a knife,
or any vicious act they decided to commit. By mid morning,

(55:22):
I was pacing my loft like a caged animal. The
sunlight streamed across the hardwood floor, revealing boxes I still
hadn't untacked from my old life. I'd occasionally catch glimpses
of some memento from my marriage with Amber, a photo
album corner, the wedding invitation. Each relic sharpened my anger
and sadness, but also reaffirmed how I had no illusions left.

(55:46):
The only illusions that mattered today involved tricking Ramirez into
incriminating himself, and ironically, I was more nervous for Linda's
safety than I'd ever been about my own heartbreak. Calm,
I murmured to myself, You have to stay calm. Eventually
I headed to a quiet diner where we plan to
do the final test for Linda's wire. Wesley was already there,

(56:09):
sipping black coffee. He looked up with a nod when
I approached. You look tense, he said, narrowing his eyes.
I forced a weak laugh. Under statement of the year,
he padded my shoulder, a rare show of affection from
a man who usually stayed stoic. She's braver than we know,
he said. But yea, it's risky. The f b I

(56:31):
folks are good at their job, though they'll be hidden.
We'll have lines of sight once we get the recording,
they'll move in. A prickle of dread coiled in my stomach.
We just have to pray Ramira's doesn't suspect a thing,
I whispered. Linda arrived a few minutes later, her face
pale but determined. She wore a simple, dark hoodie that

(56:53):
looked one size too large, maybe to hide the wire gear.
She managed a small smile at me and Wesley, sliding
into the booth, her hair was pulled back in a
neat ponytail, no make up, like she was shedding every pretense.
Or maybe she was just too anxious to worry about appearances. Hey,
she said softly, where's the FBI agent again? Wesley jerked

(57:18):
his chin toward a different table wear A tall, broad
shouldered man with a baseball cap sat, pretending to read
a newspaper. That was Agent Harris. If you didn't know better,
you might think he was just a traveling salesman. Linda
exhaled shakily, taking comfort in the proximity. All right, we're
doing the final test, Wesley explained. He produced a small

(57:40):
device that looked like a piece of black tape with
an attached micro wire. We'll tape this around your midsection
under your shirt. Here, let's step into the diner's restroom
for a second. Linda's eyes flicked around, feeling exposed even
in the mundane diner. I stood to accompany her, but
Wesley Jennie waved me off. Might be weird if we

(58:03):
all go, He muttered, I'll help her. You wait here,
keep watch. I nodded. Linda followed Wesley to the back hallway,
and I forced myself to remain seated fidgeting with my
coffee mug. My mind whirled with scenarios. What if from
yours patted her down? What if the mike malfunctioned? What
if the agent's vantage point was blocked? I rubbed my eyes.

(58:27):
This had to work. By the time Linda and Wesley returned,
Linda's hoodie was zipped to her neck. Wesley slid back
into the booth, leaning in to speak quietly. Mike check.
He said, Linda, just say a few random words. Linda
cleared her throat, her voice trembling slightly. Read Daisy's Tuesday unstoppable.

(58:48):
She flushed at that last word. May be feeling silly,
but we heard a faint crackle from the ear bed
in Wesley's right ear. He gave a thumbs up. Good
to go. That's when Agent Harris put down his newspaper
and wandered over like a bored customer. He slid into
the booth across from Linda, meeting her nervous gaze with
a calm nod, he spoke in a low voice, We'll

(59:11):
have a van parked near the warehouse. My team's fully armed.
The minute Ramirez makes a statement confirming the forced acts,
any mention of violence, blackmail, or controlling your movements. Will
move in, he paused, glancing at Linda's trembling hands on
the table. I can't say I love putting you at risk,
miss Anders, he murmured. But you said you want out

(59:33):
for good, and this is how we pin them. You
sure you're up for it. Linda lifted her chin, eyes
shining with fear, but also resolve. Yes, they can't do
this to any other girls if we stop them now.
Her voice quivered, but her courage felt tangible. Agent Harris
gave an approving nod. Then he eyed me, Doctor Lockwood,

(59:55):
your job is to wait in the perimeter. Don't rush in.
I know you care about but we need to ensure
we do this by the book. My stomach nodded. The
last thing I wanted was to stand by, But I
understood and trained interference could spark chaos. Understood, I said, quietly,
though part of me screamed in provost. The chosen meeting

(01:00:17):
spot was an old warehouse on the outskirts of Oakfield,
a place Ramirez sometimes used for shady exchanges. According to Linda.
He texted her the location, demanding she bring any payments
or friends with cash there. Linda had pretended to show reluctance,
as if she wasn't sure how to handle it, probably
to avoid raising suspicion, but the time was set for

(01:00:39):
seven p m. At six hundred thirty, we pulled into
a deserted lot behind a closed down hardware store. The
evening sky glowed with streaks of orange and pink. Agent
Harris's team had already staked out vantage points behind shipping containers.
A black van with tinted windows sat at the far edge,
presumably holding at least three you armed agents. I parked

(01:01:02):
my own car near some stacked pallets, out of direct sight.
Wesley and I stood behind the trunk, scanning the area.
Lend it. Inhaled deeply, hugging the hoodie around herself. I
can't believe I'm about to do this, she whispered, If
it goes wrong, I put a hand on her shoulder,
giving a reassuring squeeze. It won't go wrong. And if

(01:01:23):
they even think of touching you, Harris's guise will swarm in.
I tried to sound certain, but my heart hammered so
loud I thought she'd hear it. Wesley checked the mic
one last time, remember Linda guide them into talking about
controlling you, about forcing you for grand Mo's medical bills.
If they mention the sex arrangement, that's even stronger. We

(01:01:46):
just need them to be explicit. She nodded, swallowing, I'll
do my best. We watched from behind a stack of
crates as Linda walked across the cracked pavement toward the
warehouse's big rolling door. The sky had dimmed to a
smoky twilight. I clenched my fists, every muscle, screaming to
accompany her, but we had to keep our distance to

(01:02:07):
maintain the illusion she was alone. Sure Enough, after a
tense minute, the warehouse door groaned open. Ramira's appeared, flanked
by Jackson and two other men. Linda's posture shrank, shoulders hunched.
Even from where I stood partially hidden, I could feel
the intimidation rolling off them. They stepped outside to greet

(01:02:28):
her in the open yard, presumably to check for trailing cops.
My body quivered with adrenaline. I strained to hear anything.
Wesley had an ebees rigged to Linda's mike feed, and
he whispered the live updates to me. Linda says, I
have some money, but not all Ramira's snorts. You owe
more than money. We told you that, Linda pleads, just

(01:02:51):
give me more time or take what I have now.
I can't keep doing that. My heart raised. This was it.
We needed them to confirm the forced acts. Wesley's voice,
low and urgent, relaid every word. Ramirez, you think you
can walk away, we own you. Don't forget the customers
expecting your attention. Linda, I'm done with that. I want out,

(01:03:15):
Ramirez too, damn bad. You know the price for your
grandma's surgery. You keep working until I say stop. A
chill crawled down my spine. Every vile word out of
Ramirez's mouth was a nail in his coffin. If the
FBI was recording, we had them. My gaze flicked to
the black van any second now, I thought they'd swoop in,

(01:03:37):
but it didn't happen immediately. Maybe they wanted more explicit
mention of forced prostitution. Linda, you can't do this. My
Grandma's in a hospital nowhere near here. She was bluffing,
but effectively so Ramirez, you sure about that? My friend
says Otherwise, even if she's somewhere else, we can reach

(01:03:59):
her if you don't keep seeing your clients, she pays
the price. Wesley's eyes met mine. He mouthed, that's it,
that's enough. I expected black clad agents to burst out
any second. My pulse hammered. Suddenly, from the corner of
my eye, I glimpsed movement near the warehouses. Two men
in hooded jackets advanced stealthily from opposite sides, guns raised.

(01:04:22):
They wore bulletproof vests with small FBI logos. The moment
they stepped into the open, one yelled FBI, put your
hands up. Ramires chaos eruptid Ramirez. His men spun, one
reaching for a weapon. A second agent popped out from
behind a rusted truck, shutting at them to freeze. Linda

(01:04:43):
stumbled backward with a gasp, arms raised so they wouldn't
mistake her for a threat. Then came an explosion of noise.
Drop the gun, drop it. I heard someone fire a
single shot that ricocheted off metal. My heart seized if
Linda got hit gow but the FB high had them outnumbered,
it seemed. Another agent in plain clothes tackled Jackson to

(01:05:07):
the ground. Ramirez roared, swinging his elbow at an agent.
The battered. Agent twisted Ramirez's arm behind his back, forcing
him to the pavement. The other men raised their hands
after seeing guns trained on them. In that half minute,
I forgot everything else, sprinting out from cover, ignoring Wesley's
hiss to wait. Linda needed me. By the time I

(01:05:30):
reached the cluster of shouting voices, I saw Linda on
her knee. One forty a m. The phone buzzed, Curtis work.
I stared at the screen, a cold weight settling in
my chest. It wasn't the first time. The next night,
I found the credit card's statements a hotel in a
different city, room service for two midnight spa treatments. My

(01:05:53):
hands tightened around the paper. The lies were no longer
whispers in my head. They were right in front of me.
Then the front door clicked. I wasn't supposed to be
home yet. I stood in the shadows as she whispered,
be quiet, you might still be out. The bedroom door opened.
My phone was already recording. She gasped. He scrambled for

(01:06:17):
his clothes. I just watched, calm, silent, letting the weight
of the truth crush her before I ever said a word.
Dear listeners, Before we dive into today's story, let us
know your location in the comments section, and don't forget
to like and subscribe. Now let's begin the story. I
remember the day I first sensed something unraveling in my

(01:06:39):
marriage as though it were captured on a photograph, the
edges beginning to fade in that image. I'm standing in
the living room of our aunt's cozy suburban house, wearing
a charcoal suit that Amber picked out for me. She
was always good at styling me, said I had the
height for well fitted suits. The overhead light cast a

(01:06:59):
bright reflection across the floor, and on the couch sat
two potential investors in my female libido medication start up.
It was a small gathering for business networking, just a
few colleagues, some partners from the pharmaceutical world. Amber, my wife,
looked dazzling in a navy blue cocktail dress, but she
also appeared distant. Maybe I was too busy explaining the

(01:07:22):
concept of my new medication to notice precisely how her
posture had changed, or how her laugh with certain guests
seemed a bit too forced, or how she'd glance at
her phone more than usual. But that was a moment
if I freeze frame the memory. There's a shadow in
her eyes. I brush it off that night, attributing it
to fatigue. We had big plans then, me and IVF

(01:07:44):
specialist branching out into biotech, and her a marketing ace
in pharmaceutical sales. We used to cheer each other on.
We used to say we'll be unstoppable together. Yet, as
the living room chatter carried on, I noticed one man
in particular, Curtis, a coworker of Ambers. He was leaning
in very close when he spoke to her. He had

(01:08:07):
this big laugh that boomed across the conversation. Amber responded
with a smile that I didn't recognize. It was polite,
maybe a bit flirtatious. It teased at something beneath the surface.
I tried to shrug it off. People and marketing are
often extroverted, right, could be nothing. The night ended with

(01:08:27):
me clinking glasses in a half hearted toast, while she
stood across the room with Curtis, their heads bent, phone
screens shining in their hands. On any other day, I
might have teased her about it, but something about her
expression told me that my teasing might land badly. I
told myself let it go. Brandon. She's just excited about

(01:08:48):
a new project that I tasted bitter in my mouth,
but I needed it. Then. Once upon a time, Amber
used to text me mid day from her office, little
updates about her lunch, or a silly meme, or an
I miss you if she was traveling. That habit gradually disappeared.
At first, I thought she was simply swamped. She'd been

(01:09:09):
assigned bigger responsibilities in her pharmaceutical marketing job, constant travel
to different conferences, building relationships with hospital procurement managers. I
remember thinking that's good for her, she's leveling up. But
leveling up soon became living separate lives instead of cooking
dinner together or sipping coffee. On Sunday mornings, we barely overlapped.

(01:09:33):
I'd leave for my IVF clinic early, and by the
time I got back, she'd be out with clients. Sometimes
I'd find a post it note back late, don't wait up.
The call logs on her phone were always short. Apparently
she wasn't calling me, so who was she calling. One evening,
she strolled in wearing a crisp pencil skirt and a

(01:09:55):
faint perfume. I didn't recognize she tossed her keys on
the kitchen cont and gave me a half smile that
didn't reach her eyes. I'm beat, Brandon, she said, dropping
her purse with a thud. Conference calls all day. Don't
even ask. Then she retreated to the shower without a word.
More The water ran, but my mind churned. Something about

(01:10:18):
the tension in her face, the way she turned away
to hide the faint pink flush in her cheeks. Let's
just say I'm a doctor. I read body language as
well as lab results. She seemed rattled. Late that night,
I found her phone buzzing at one forty a m.
The screen glowed Curtis work. The label work got under

(01:10:39):
my skin. Amber claimed he was a helpful co worker
for big deals, traveling with her to meet hospital buyers.
But what work call needed to happen at nearly two
in the morning the next day. I asked about it
gentle as I could. Hey, you got a late call
from Curtis last night? Everything okay? She brushed me off

(01:11:00):
with a flippant He was freaking out over next week's presentation.
I had to calm him down. That was her entire explanation,
No apology, no sense that it might look suspicious. She
rolled her eyes like I was a paranoid child. This
is how it is in marketing. She added, long hours,
weird phone calls. Then she tapped away on her phone,

(01:11:23):
ignoring me. I tried to push that disquiet aside, chalking
it up to the demands of her field. But from
that moment on, I started noticing more the way she'd
keep her phone angled away when she texted, the way
her ring my grandmother's diamond that I'd had reset for
Amber stopped appearing on her finger. When I asked, she said,

(01:11:43):
some clients prefer dealing with someone who seems unattached. It's
just sales, Brandon, she said, it's so matter of factly,
it's stung. I've always been methodical, a trait honed for
years of fertility work. IVF is a delicate science, requiring
precise data tracking, So it wasn't out of character for
Meat to sit down with our credit card statements just

(01:12:07):
to be sure everything lined up. I can still see
the dining table, my laptop, a lamp pooling a soft
glow over receipts. Amber was gone that night, claiming she
was in a client dinner across town. The statements told
a different story. I found a cluster of hotel charges
in another city, about an hour away on nights. She

(01:12:28):
swore she was flying out early tomorrow. The time stamps
were bizarre, like a room service order at midnight, spa
services at one a m. My chest tightened. We had
enough money that these charges weren't catastrophic, but they were suspicious.
Two entrees, two cocktails back to back, one or two
odd transactions might be explained away as comps for potential buyers,

(01:12:53):
but this was consistent. I jotted notes double meal, wine
for two extra day, unaccounted for. Then the real blow,
a charge from a hotel in a city that wasn't
even on her official itinerary. I actually closed my eyes
and let out a shaky breath. I willed myself to
remain calm, thinking maybe her plans changed last minute, but

(01:13:14):
my gut knew better. My mind reeled with the name Curtis.
Could it be him? At two a m. That night,
I found myself outside on our back porch, staring at
the sky. A mild breeze ruffled the leaves. I gripped
the railing so hard my palms hurt. Was I going
to confront her or wait, gather more data, be absolutely sure.

(01:13:36):
I decided to wait, because if I confronted her prematurely
and it was all just a work thing, I'd blow
up our marriage over a misunderstanding. But oh, how the
seeds of doubt were sprouting. It was a Tuesday when
the tension erupted. I'd been working on a brand new
embryo viability protocol at my clinic, so I was bone tired.
Upon returning home. Amber's car was in the driveway, which

(01:14:00):
was rare usually she came home after I'd already crashed.
I walked in, dropping my bag by the door, only
to see the living room dark. A faint glow from
the back yard told me she was outside. Curious, I
tiptoed over and saw her silhouette through the glass door,
phone pressed to her ear. Her posture was rigid, her

(01:14:21):
voice hushed. The conversation ended abruptly when she spotted me.
She jumped, nearly dropping the phone. Brandon, you're up late,
she snapped, like I'd committed a crime just by existing.
I tried to keep my voice even heard you out here.
Everything okay, My question sounded bigger than it was, but

(01:14:41):
my nerves were taut, Expecting some explanation. She tucked her
hair behind her ear, eyes flickering. It's it was Curtis
a quick sigh. He stressed about tomorrow's big pitch. You
know how these deals can be. I can't let him fail.
I watched her searching for a crack in a her story.
Does that require phone calls at midnight? She stiffened, What

(01:15:05):
are you implying that I'm cheating? God, Brandon, your jealousy
is suffocating. She turned away, shoulders trembling. I can't handle
this right now. If you don't trust me, say it.
So many things soared to my lips. How about the hotels,
the phone secrecy, the ring you don't wear? But I
swallowed them, exhaling slowly. Fine, I said, we'll talk in

(01:15:30):
the morning. She stormed inside, and I heard the bedroom
door slam. I remained there the night, air wrapping me
in a lonely chill. That was the first time I
truly felt our marriage teetering on the brink of destruction.
Another few days of brittle silence passed in the house.
Amber schedule was even more random now, or maybe she

(01:15:51):
was actively avoiding me. We'd grown used to living like
polite strangers under one roof. Then I decided it was time.
I scrolled through my contacts to an old phone number
for Sophia, a private investigator with ties to the security
world and biotech. She picked up, and I recognized her
measured tone. She'd done some investigative work for a friend

(01:16:13):
of mine who suspected corporate espionage. I felt a little
slimeballish calling her about my personal life, but my mind
screamed for proof, Doctor Lockwood. It's been a while, Sophia said, politely.
I forced a small laugh. Sophia, I need your help
in a domestic situation. I apologize if it's not your

(01:16:34):
usual corporate case. She responded with warmth. I handle all
sorts of investigations, Brandon, discretion is my promise. Tell me
what's going on. My throat tightened, and I explained the gist.
Suspicious travel logs, weird credit card bills, intangible shifts in
Amber's behavior. I heard my own voice shaking heart humiliation,

(01:16:58):
part heartbreak. Sophia took notes reassured me no judgments. She'd
check ambers work, trips, hotels, phone logs, the whole thing.
You'll have clarity, she said, softly, as if sensing how
fragile my world felt. I hung up, slumping onto my couch,
face in my hands. In that moment, heartbreak co existed

(01:17:19):
with a faint relief. Soon I'd know the truth for sure.
An unexpected message arrived one afternoon from Wesley, a lab
tech who'd once collaborated with Amber's department. We'd met at
a dinner last year. He seemed nice enough. He asked
to meet in private. Intrigued and anxious, I agreed. We
ended up in the corner booth of a quiet cafe.

(01:17:42):
Wesley looked uneasy. He fiddled with his coffee mug before speaking. Look,
I don't want trouble, but I keep hearing rumors about
Curtis bragging, bragging about some married co worker he's you know,
he paused, eyebrows knitted in apology. He never named her.
But everything lines up Amber schedule her marketing roll. I

(01:18:04):
can't just watch you be in the dark. I felt
a visceral pang, like my stomach had dropped. The swirling
suspicions hammered in my chest. I forced myself to remain calm.
Thank you for telling me. I appreciate your honesty. My
voice was tight, controlled, all the while I was screaming
inside it's real. She's with him, She's with him. Wesley

(01:18:28):
reached out to pat my arm. I'm sorry, man, I
hate gossip, but you deserve to know. I nodded, swallowing
the lump in my throat. Better an ugly truth than
a comfy lie. I left that cafe in a haze,
stepping into bright sunlight that felt mocking. Another piece of
the puzzle had fallen into place, and every piece spelled

(01:18:50):
out betrayal. A sense of raw determination flooded me. My
heart break turned to steal. If Amber was indeed cheating,
I wasn't going to beg or wait. I'd approach it
like I'd approach a complicated fertility procedure, gather evidence, confirm data,
then take decisive action. No time for illusions or naivete

(01:19:11):
Her next conference trip was set for two weeks out,
perfect timing for Sophia's full report. Two weeks to prepare mentally,
to check finances and property details. I discreetly transferred some
funds into a personal account, just in case. The level
of secrecy I was adopting felt surreal, but so was
my life. Right then, late one night, I found myself

(01:19:35):
in my office staring at a framed wedding photo of us.
Amber wore that luminous smile, holding my arm in her
wedding gown. I rubbed my temples, recalling how I'd been
so sure we'd grow old together, build a family. We
even talked about kids at some point, but we'd each
been so busy with our careers now that dream seemed

(01:19:56):
laughably distant. If you had asked me six months prior
how i'd hand Marite'll betrayal, I might have said something naive,
like we'd fix it, we'd talk. But standing in that office,
I realized trust, once broken, is rarely repaired, at least
not in my book. Maybe love remains, but respect dies

(01:20:16):
the man. I wanted to be wooden and grovel for
affection from a woman who had tossed me aside for
cheap thrills. During the final days leading to her trip,
Amber was strangely cordial. She came home at a normal hour,
made small talk about the new CFO at her job,
asked about my research. It felt forced, but I played along,

(01:20:36):
half tempted to pretend everything was normal. We even watched
a show on Netflix one evening. Though neither of us
laughed at the jokes, my heart pounded as I pictured
the hidden files Sofia would soon deliver. One morning, I
found a note from Amber stuck to the fridge, Dinner
with Curtis and potential buyers tonight, don't wait up. The

(01:20:58):
words Curtis and potential glared at me like neon signs.
I left that note on the counter, ironically calm. The
anger was still there, but overshadowed by an almost clinical curiosity.
How far had she fallen? The tension in the air
was thick enough to choke. Every conversation was laced with caution.
She avoided my gaze, and I stopped asking about her day.

(01:21:21):
We slept in the same bed, but might as well
have been continents apart. In my mind, I was counting
down twelve days left, ten days seven. Sometimes I'd catch
her glancing at me with an unreadable expression, as though
she sensed my detachment. I never confronted her directly, though
I wanted the final blow to be decisive, fueled by

(01:21:45):
undeniable facts. At last, the day of her big trip
arrived early in the morning. She rolled a small suitcase
down the hallway, phone glued to her ear. When she
noticed me, she gave a stiff nod. I'll be back
in five days, or maybe six if negotiations run long.
I just nodded back, safe travels. She blinked, perhaps surprised

(01:22:08):
by my coolness. Usually I'd ask about flight times or
hotel details, maybe offer to drive her, but I did
none of that. She hesitated, opened her mouth as if
to say something, then just muttered by Brandon and stepped
out the door. I stared at the closed door for
a long moment, av renalin pumping. This was it, This

(01:22:29):
was the trip that would confirm everything. I grabbed my
phone and die old Sophia voice, steady, it's happening, She's gone.
Let me know when you have the evidence. My heart
hammered a swirl of dread and grim anticipation. That same day,
I ranged for a short overnight at a friend's place,
some one not close to Amber, so if she tried

(01:22:51):
to do anything suspicious at home, she'd find the house empty,
all possible angles covered. Saying alone in my car that evening,
I reflected on how much had changed. My marriage was
on the brink of collapse, and yet I felt oddly calm,
as though I'd already mourned it. The radio played softly.
I switched it off, not wanting any external noise. Gazing

(01:23:15):
at the empty passenger seat where Amber used to sit,
I thought of the times we sang along to favorite
songs during road trips, how we'd laugh at inside jokes
about other drivers. Now that seat felt like a ghost,
But beneath that calm, a deep sadness pulsed. I tried
to bury it under logic, I deserve better. If she

(01:23:36):
had the audacity to do this, then so be it.
My reaction would be swift, final, and strategic. In one
of my clinic's counseling rooms, we often talked to couples
about the heartbreak of infertility, But heartbreak of betrayal is
a different beast Entirely, no medical procedure can fix a
shattered vow. It's personal, raw and humiliating. Yet I did myself.

(01:24:01):
I'm not a victim. I choose how to respond, and
I'd respond with dignity. No screaming meltdown, no pathetic please,
just an iron determination to sever ties, to punish her
legally if needed, and to stand unshaken. That vous steadied me.
I started the engine and drove off, forging a new
direction for my life. Amber had been gone two days

(01:24:24):
when I got the phone call. It was mid evening
and I was hunched over my laptop revising a research proposal.
The ring jolted mead upright. Sophia's calm voice spilled through, Brandon,
I have something you should see Instantly, My pulse swored.
She explained that her team had obtained discreet photographs of

(01:24:44):
Amber entering a suite at the Redwood Hotel with a
man who matched Curtis's description. They had images from multiple nights,
Amber hugging him in a hallway, exchanging kisses outside a
conference room after hours, even explicit text messages room four
hundred fifteen is open, come up after your dinner wraps.
My face burned as I took it all in. I

(01:25:07):
forced my voice steady. Email them to me. Thank you, Sophia,
I owe you. She'd assured me she'd remain on stand
by if I needed more. After the call ended, I
stayed silent, phone trembling in my grip. So there it
was ireclad confirmation. I learned from Sophia that Amber plan
to check out of the Redwood Hotel the next day.

(01:25:30):
Her conference presumably ended earlier than she'd told me. Something
snapped inside me. I recall shoving clothes into a bag,
getting in my car, driving through the night. My plan
appear at home before she got back, wait and catch
them if they were bold enough to head to our
marital bed. If not, I'd confront her anyway. Enough allusions

(01:25:52):
the drive felt interminable. My mind replayed old memories, our
first date, our wedding, Her lacke after echoing in the
kitchen as we tried a new recipe. Then those images
warped into the reality of her pressed against Curtis in
some fancy hotel corridor. A swirl of rage and heartbreak
battered me. By the time I pulled into our driveway

(01:26:15):
at eleven p m. My hands were shaking. The house
was dark. I let myself in quietly. Around one a m.
I heard the front door's lock click. My pulse thundered.
I flicked off the lamp and crept behind a corner.
Amber's voice murmured, followed by a low male voice. My
heart nearly seized. They came in together. Furious adrenaline coursed

(01:26:39):
through me. This was my home, our home, and she'd
brought him here. I prayed for self control, not wanting
to do something reckless. Instead, I heard footsteps toward the bedroom,
quiet laughter. The bedroom door closed a few moments later,
muffled voices. My jaw clenched so hard it ached, dummoning

(01:27:00):
my nerve. I pressed record on my phone's camera and
marched down the hall. The door was partly open. I
could see them entangled on the bed. Curtains parted to
reveal moonlight shimmering on them. Curtis's shirt was off, Amber's
blouse unmuttoned. My stomach churned with disgust, but I forced
myself to speak calmly, having fun. They both jerked up.

(01:27:22):
Amber gasped, yanking the blanket over them. Curtis cursed, face
going ashen b Brandon, you you were supposed to be.
I stared at them, trying to keep my tone cold
rather than raging. I was supposed to be out of town, yes,
but you know schedule's change. My phone was still capturing
video in my hand. Don't even bother with excuses. I

(01:27:46):
already have proof. Amber's eyes welled with tears, shock painted
across her face. Brandon, let me let me explain. She stammered,
this isn't what it looks like. But of course it
was exactly what it looked like. Curtis jumped off the bed,
rummaging for his pants. Dude, we didn't mean I never

(01:28:07):
wanted to. He was stuttering nonsense. I pinned him with
a glare that could curdle milk. Get out, I said,
voice low, Get out of my house. Now, don't even
try to talk. He scrambled, muttering apologies, nearly tripping as
he fled the bedroom. Within seconds, I heard him clumsily
race down the hall, slamming the front door behind him.

(01:28:30):
Amber remained there, disheveled, tears streaming down her cheeks. She
reached for me, but I stepped back, don't, I warned.
My voice shook with contained fury. You lied to me,
You brought him into our bed. You do realize that's
the worst part, right, She started babbling excuses. It's not

(01:28:50):
about love. It was just physical. I was lonely because
you always bury yourself in your clinic. And I held
up a hand. Stop blaming me for your affair. My
wedding ring felt like a lead weight on my finger.
In a swift motion, I yached it off and dropped
it on to the night's end. I'm done Amber. She

(01:29:11):
fell to her knees, tears intensifying. Brandon. No, I can
fix this. I'll break it off with Curtis. I swear
I was just I got caught up in the excitement.
I still love you, I do. A hollow laugh escaped
my lips. You love me, that's rich. This is how
you show it. Enough. Anger flared so hot I could

(01:29:34):
barely breathe, but I forced composure, No matter how savage
my heart break. I refused to be the weeping, pitiful husband.
Pack your things, or I'll pack themb for you. In fact,
I'm leaving tonight. You can do whatever the hell you
want with this place my mind world. As I found
a small suit case, I threw in just enough clothes

(01:29:55):
for a few days, ignoring her sobbing. She tried grabbing
my arm, but I shook her off. She pleaded, repeating,
don't go, let's talk, Let's try counseling. The words fell
on deaf ears. Counseling wouldn't resurrect my trust in her.
Some part of me was numb, an override that let
me keep from physically lashing out. I've got everything recorded,

(01:30:19):
I reminded her, phone still in my hand, so don't
attempt any nonsense in divorce court. If you fight me,
I'll bury you with the evidence. Amber's eyes went wide.
You do that, Brannon, You're not that cruel She trailed
off as she realized how real it was. Cruelty, I
retorted with a bitter smile. You want to talk cruelty

(01:30:42):
after you paraded your affair in our bed. I guess
we're both seeing each other's true colors now. She shrank back, sobbing.
I'm sorry, she whispered, but it was empty. Leaving the
house at two a m. Felt surreal. The air outside
was crisp, and a swirl of memories assaulted me as
I stepped into my car. Our old life together, our laughter,

(01:31:04):
None of it could stand in the face of her
brazen betrayal. The heartbreak coiled around me, but I kept
a firm handle on my anger. I called my attorney
friend a coal right from the driver's seat, ignoring the hour.
She picked up, alarmed Brandon, what's happened, I exhaled Amber's cheating.
I caught them in my bedroom. My tone was flat,

(01:31:28):
I'm done file the divorce name adulterery as the cause
push for no spousal support. I have evidence. Nicole didn't
sound surprised, only sorrowful. I'm so sorry. I'll start the
paperwork immediately. Are you safe? I stared at the dark street. Yes,
I'll handle it. Then I ended the call. It was official.

(01:31:51):
I had set the wheels in motion. I spent the
next day in a cheap motel, ignoring Amber's frantic calls.
Her voice males ranged from sobbing apologies to defensive rants.
I listened to one or two, just enough to confirm
it was the same cycle she'd claim, regret, then shift
blame onto me. I deleted them all that afternoon. I

(01:32:13):
instructed my bank to freeze our joint account except for
essential mortgage payments. I canceled the supplementary credit card she used.
My CFO alerted me to suspicious charges from the Redwood
Hotel's SPA. Already handled, I said, coolly cancel them. If
she wanted to keep up her esque paids, she could

(01:32:33):
pay from her own pocket. My sense of justice flickered.
Why did I ever trust her with open access to
my finances? A quiet fury guided me, No more illusions,
no more room for her in my life. I told
my clinic's staff not to release any personal info to
missus Lockwood. We were effectively separated by day's end. I

(01:32:55):
felt the enormity of it all. My marriage was in ashes,
and I had incinerated the last bridge is willingly, yet
a slender part of me felt relief, like a bleeding
wound had finally been cauterized. She showed up at my
new lodging. Somehow she found out where I was staying,
banging on the door. When I opened it, a crack

(01:33:16):
or mascara was smudged, tears glistening. She looked utterly miserable. Brandon, Please,
I'm losing my mind not hearing from you. We can
fix this. Talk about therapy or a separation if you
need time. Just don't shut me out. I made a mistake,
a mistake, I repeated quietly. You call repeated hotel trysts

(01:33:38):
with your coworker a slip of the mind. That's not
a mistake, that's a pattern. She tried to push the
door wide, stepping forward. You used to love me enough
to fight for us. I placed a hand on the door.
I did love you, but you shattered that trust. The
moment you slept with Curtis in our home. No less,

(01:33:59):
there's no coming back. My voice felt raw. Please leave
her anguish spilled out, wailing that she do anything, But
my heart had turned to stone. I stared into her eyes,
searching for a shred of honesty. All I saw was
self serving desperation, fear of losing the comforts of our life.

(01:34:19):
I closed the door, hearing her sob for a while
before footsteps retreated. A swirl of complicated emotions churned in me,
but resolution overshadowed them. I refused to go back. Within
a week, I sold my partial ownership in a local
IVF clinic. I'd been nurturing my main biotech start up
rolls could be done remotely or from a different location.

(01:34:42):
Enough ties bound me here to memories of a marriage
that lay in ruins. I wanted a fresh environment, somewhere quiet. Oakfield,
a smaller city a few hours away, offered an opening
for an IVF consultant. Perfect timing, I loaded my suv
with my belongings the trunk, and gave the house's facade
one final look. This had been Ambers and my dream home.

(01:35:05):
A wave of sadness threatened to break me, but I
reminded myself it was just bricks and wood. She could
have it if she wanted, or it could rot for
all I cared. The day the divorce was finalized, i'd
sign off my share or demand a quick sale. I
was beyond caring. While driving off, I felt a swirl
of heartbreak and liberation. My phone pinged with a text

(01:35:29):
from an unknown number. You can't run from me, Brandon,
I'll fight for us. No name attached, but I knew
it was Amber. I turned my phone off, let her
fight if she wanted. I had no intention of rejoining
that battlefield. Two weeks after discovering Amber's affair, I found
myself pulling into a modest complex in oak Field, boxes

(01:35:52):
stacked in the back seat. The place was calmer, tree
lined streets, local diners, not many tall buildings of fresh canvas.
My new loft was above a small row of shops,
complete with big windows that let in lots of natural light.
It wasn't home yet, but I preferred it over the
echo of betrayal in my old house. On the morning

(01:36:14):
I met the landlord to pick up keys, I introduced
myself as doctor Brandon Lockwood, an IVF specialist. He seemed
pleased to have a professional tenant, gave me a short
rundown of the neighborhood. Quiet at night, watch out for
that bar down the street if you don't like rowdy crowds,
but overall folks here are friendly. His easy smile relaxed me.

(01:36:37):
I spent the next few days assembling furniture, hooking up
my lap hoop to handle remote duties for my female
libido medication start up. Board members accepted my explanation that
personal matters had me relocate, and they were supportive. Meanwhile,
an IVF clinic in Oakfield had me consulting part time
to improve their lab processes. It felt good to be

(01:36:59):
needed per professionally while my personal life was in shambles.
Those first few nights in oak Field were lonely. I
couldn't stop replaying the confrontation with Amber, the humiliating images
of her and Curtis. My mind wouldn't let me rest.
On the third evening, craving distraction, I strolled around the block,

(01:37:19):
noticing nelon lights from a place called the Wolf's Den.
The sign flickered and a handful of motorcycles parked out
front hinted at a tough crowd. Not quite my usual scene,
but the curiosity tugged. I stepped inside. The interior was dim,
a haze of conversation and guitar music flooding my senses.

(01:37:39):
Bikers clustered by the bar, A few tables occupied by
men in denim jackets and women wearing tank tops sipping
cheap beer. I took a seat near the end of
the bar, nodded to the barbender quietly requested a local
craft brew. A sense of anonymity washed over me. Nobody
recognized me here as the divorce Dock or the Ceado.

(01:38:01):
It felt refreshing. A few seats over, a man gave
me a suspicious glance. I half expected trouble, but then
his attention drifted back to his body good. The place
smelled of spilled liquor and an undercurrent of tension. I
was about to sip my beer when I noticed a
waitress weaving between tables. She was slight of build, with

(01:38:22):
dark hair pinned back in a functional style, probably mid twenties.
She moved quickly, as if to avoid touching anyone. Her
eyes flicked around wearily. When that waitress arrived to deliver
drinks to the two men next to me. I caught
a glimpse of her name tag Linda. She set down
their pints, forcing a small smile. One of the men

(01:38:44):
let his gaze linger on her in a leering way.
She mumbled, ASoft anything else. He shook his head slowly,
a grin that unsettled me. She turned and hurried off
before he could say something cruder, something about Linda's posture
looked exhausted, almost defeated. She brushed past me, glancing sideways.
In that split second, our eyes met. I managed a

(01:39:07):
polite nod, and she nodded back, a flicker of surprise
crossing her features. Then she vanished behind the bar, presumably
to grab another order. I nursed my beer for a while,
noticing how Linda kept reappearing to drop off drinks, her
shoulders stiff each time she passed certain man. The bartender
seemed oblivious or unconcerned. Meanwhile, the background music shifted from

(01:39:32):
classic rock to a local band's attempt at a country
blues fusion. Eventually, a large man slumped over a table
started shouting obscenities at Linda, complaining that he wanted more
peanuts or a refill. Linda apologized, but told him the
kitchen was closed. He snapped, don't get smart with me, girl,
and made a move as if to grab her. She

(01:39:54):
flinched back. My instincts flared. I'd seen enough domestic violence
victims in the das e R to recognize the dynamic.
I slid off my stool, stepping in. Hey, calm down,
I told the drunk voice firm The man turned bleary
eyes on me, muttering something about minding my own business.

(01:40:14):
Despite the tension, Linda looked at me greatly, stepping away
while I diverted his aggression. The bartender eventually lumbered over
to diffuse the situation, ordering the man to leave if
he wouldn't chill out. When the dust settled, Linda disappeared
into the back, probably shaken. I felt a wave of empathy.
This bar was obviously not a safe environment, but maybe

(01:40:37):
she had no choice. My own heartbreak felt smaller in
comparison to her immediate threat. Near closing time, the crowd thinned.
I waited, finishing my beer, not sure why I was lingering.
Linda emerged from the back, wiping her eyes discreetly. When
she approached the bar, I gently said you okay. She hesitated,

(01:40:58):
then gave a weary shrug. I'm I'm fine. Sorry you
had to see that. I shook my head. Not your fault.
That guy was out of line for a moment. She
simply studied me, then softly. We get a lot of
guys like that here, she swallowed, shifting on her feet.
Most nights are worse. I'm used to it. The admission stung.

(01:41:20):
You shouldn't have the get used to that. She tried
to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. A tense
pause followed, as though she couldn't figure out if I
was friend or foe. I decided to break the ice.
I'm Brandon, I said, new in town. Obviously figured i'd
check out the local scene. Linda wiped down the counter,

(01:41:42):
glancing around to ensure no eavesdroppers. I'm Linda, she murmured.
Not the best place to get a local welcome. I guess,
I shrugged. Any place with decent beer is a start,
but this environment seems rough, especially for you. My eyes
flicked to bruises on her wrist, which she tried to
hide under her sleeve. She tensed, noticing my gaze. I

(01:42:05):
quickly added, sorry, not trying to pry. She sighed a
flush of embarrassment crossing her face. Look, I just have
some debts. Okay, this is the only job I could
find without references. It's complicated. She forced a half laugh
that cracked. I'm sure you have your own problems. I
wanted to say something comforting, but hesitated. My own life

(01:42:29):
was indeed complicated, I do, I admitted. But that doesn't
mean I can't care about others. If you ever need help,
well I know some resources, especially in health care. She blinked, eyes,
darting to the surly bargainder at the far end. Lowering
her voice, she confided, I owe some unsavory people. They

(01:42:50):
covered my grandma's surgery costs. I have no insurance, no savings.
Now I'm stuck paying them back on their terms. They
want more in trust than I can handle. People like
me were not free to just walk away. Her voice
trembled near the end. A jolt of protectiveness coursed through me.
That's not right, I said, firmly, No matter the debt,

(01:43:13):
they can't enslave you. A shadow of a scoff crossed
her lips. Try telling them that they said they'd hurt
my grandma if I refused to comply. Py she cut
herself off, glancing away. It's not your problem, I exhaled,
recalling all my sorrow over Amber's betrayal. In comparison, Linda's
predicament sounded more dire, physical threats, forced labor. She gave

(01:43:38):
me a tight nod, as though dismissing me. So I
stepped back respect for her boundaries. But inside the wheels
were turning. If I could help, should I? My moral
code said yes. My heart still raw, yearned to do
something good for once, to protect someone from injustice. The
bart under called closing time. Around two a m. I

(01:44:01):
realized Linda would likely walk out alone into the dark.
Part of me wanted to offer her a ride or
ensure she was safe, but I sensed it might spook
her if I insisted. We parted ways at the door,
her hushed take care lingering in the air. As I
walked back to my loft, the crisp night wind clearing
my head, I couldn't shake the image of her bruised wrists,

(01:44:25):
the tremor in her voice. She was caught in a
trap of exploitation, reminiscent of the darker corners of society.
I'd seldom encountered my heart break over Amber felt overshadowed
by Linda's immediate danger. Yet somehow I felt a renewed
spark of energy, like I had a new mission. Confronting
Amber's betrayal had awakened a cold side of me capable

(01:44:47):
of decisive action. Maybe that side could do something to
help Linda. Back in my loft, I flicked on the lights.
My phone displayed a few missed calls from a number
I recognized as a new Burner phone. She must have
changed numbers after I blocked her main line. This time.
Her voicemail was frantic, Brandon, you can't just vanish I.

(01:45:10):
I ended it with Curtis. I swear, come back, let's talk.
I was an idiot. I'm sorry. I listened emotionless. The
lying stung because I knew from credit card logs and
phone data that she'd been with Curtis for months. Her
claim to end it now was meaningless. A year ago,
I might have cracked, but not tonight. The contrast between

(01:45:32):
her betrayal and Linda's dire situation hardened my resolve. I
deleted the voicemail. Slumping on my new couch, I realized
how exhausted I felt emotionally battered, but also strangely determined.
Maybe fate had placed me in Oakfield not just to
escape Amber, but to cross paths with Linda. The thought

(01:45:53):
calmed me enough to drift into a restless sleep. Waking
at dawn, I brewed coffee and leaned against the loft window,
gazing over oak Fields quaint Main Street. The lingering bitterness
of heartbreak still weighed on my chest, but now an
additional urgency pumped in my veins. I thought about Linda's predicament,

(01:46:13):
the criminals controlling her. Part of me recognized I might
be meddling in something bigger than me. But I was
a man who'd once believed in doing the right thing.
If my marriage is and taught me anything, it was
that letting deceit fester only leads to devastation. Maybe I
could bring clarity to Linda's situation. Maybe I could use

(01:46:33):
my resources, money, legal connections, the same relentless approach I
used to gather evidence against Amber. I grabbed my phone
and called an old friend, Wesley, who had dabbled in
private security. He answered with a sleepy hello, and I
gave him a quick rundown. I have a friend in
trouble forced into some shady debts might be something we

(01:46:55):
can tackle quietly. Wesley listened, eventually replying, this is dangerous territory,
but I'm not backing down if you need me. A
sense of relief coursed through me. I wasn't alone in
wanting to fix things. Sipping my coffee, I stared at
the rising sun another day, another chance to reshape my life,

(01:47:17):
far from Amber's betrayals. I'd lost one fight, but I
could help Linda avoid losing hers. That resolve grounded me.
The day after my talk with Wesley, we met in
a nondescript cafe on oak fields outskirts neutral ground, over
black coffee. I explained Linda's predicament, the man named Ramirez

(01:47:38):
and Jackson, the bar environment, her fear that her grand
mu's health would be jeopardized if she resisted. Wesley took notes.
Lips tight. Sounds like a classic case of forced prostitution
or extortion, he murmured grimly. I recalled the sense of
violation I felt when Amber cheated. Linda's ordeal was a
thousand times worse. She was being three threatened body and soul.

(01:48:02):
My chest burned with quiet rage. We can't let them
keep her trapped, I said, voice slow. Wesley nodded, scanning
his phone. I have some contacts who can do background
checks on these guys. We might find a lead to
get the law involved, but we have to be careful.
If they find out Linda ratted them out, she might

(01:48:22):
be in danger, and so we formed a plan gather
intel discreetly see if we could interest local or federal
authorities in a sting. Meanwhile, I try to keep Linda safe.
That night, I returned to the Wolf's Den bar, unsure
if Flinda would be there or if Ramirez's crew might
notice me. The place was bustling, a guitarist playing rock

(01:48:44):
covers up front, neon signs flickering. I scanned the crowd
until I spotted Linda delivering a round of beers to
a table of rowdy bikers. She looked tense, but her
face brightened for a split second when she recognized me.
I found a seat in the corner. After a few minutes,
Linda glided over, whispering, you're back. Are you sure it's

(01:49:06):
safe for you here? Her eyes flitted to a couple
of shady men near the back, possibly Ramirez's associates. I shrugged,
acting casual, I just like the local brew it's lightly
then in a softer tone, Wesley and I are working
on something. We might help you get out of this,
but we need details. She frowned, hesitation etched on her features.

(01:49:30):
If they find out I talk to you, it'll be worse.
I can't risk it. I gently tapped the table, mindful
of onlookers. We'll be discreet, I promise, just let me
know if there's somewhere safe you can stay. Once trouble
starts before she could answer, a tall man in a
leather jacket, likely Ramirez, caught sight of us and scowled.

(01:49:52):
Linda muttered, I got to go, and rushed off tea.
He tension was palpable. Trying to blend in. I zipped
my beer for an hour, observing Linda's forced smiles and
the man's menacing glares whenever she talked too long to someone. Finally,
I saw an opportunity when Ramirez cornered her by the jukebox.

(01:50:13):
Her body language screamed distress. My anger flared, and I stood,
drifting over to them under the guise of checking the
song list. I heard Ramira's hiss you better keep the
VIP satisfied tonight, or your grandma's next procedure might not happen.
Linda trembled, eyes wide, My gut twisted. These scumbags were

(01:50:33):
using literal medical extortion. I cleared my throat, causing Ramirez
to notice me. His eyes narrowed. Who the hell are you?
I gave him a measured look, A concerned friend. I said,
I'll pay whatever Linda owes. You name the amount, He barked,
a laugh, big shot. We don't just want money. We

(01:50:53):
like having our girls under control. But if you're offering,
He exchanged a glance with a buddy named Jajackson, who smirked,
I refuse to show fear. No more controlling Linda, no
forced services. If I settle her debt, you let her
walk free. They pretended to consider it. Then Jackson sneered,
we also want a favor from you, doc, maybe slip

(01:51:17):
us some prescriptions or a pipeline for certain meds. My
blood boiled. Not happening. I'm a legitimate doctor, not your
drug mule. They shrugged, telling me Linda's debt was significant
and a single buyout might not satisfy them. We can
keep her working off interest if you won't play ball.
Linda looked at me helplessly. I clenched my fists. You'll

(01:51:41):
regret this, I said, quietly. You can't keep her. They
just laughed. Stepping away, Linda, tears brimming, mouthed I'm sorry
to me. My heart hammered with fury and protectiveness. After
closing time, when the bar's lights dimmed and the band
had packed up, I lingered outside in the cool night air.

(01:52:01):
Soon Linda slipped out the back exit, hugging her jacket
around her. She noticed me near a street lamp, her
expression a mixture of relief and anxiety. I approached slowly, Linda.
I know this is terrifying, but we can't let them
keep a stranglehold on you. I can pay your grandma's
medical bills properly, get her into a safer facility. We'll

(01:52:24):
figure out the rest, legal or otherwise. Tears traced her cheeks.
They're not bluffing, Brandon. They have people in the hospital staff.
They can threaten me in ways you can't imagine. I
gently placed a hand on her shoulder. We have connections too,
I have a network in health care. Let me move

(01:52:44):
your grandma to a different hospital somewhere they can't intimidate
the staff. Then you're not pinned by them anymore, she sniffled,
letting out a shaky breath. But the debt is huge,
and if they find out your interfering, they'll come after
both of us, I exhaled. I'm ready to face that.
They don't scare me half as much as betrayal did. Ironically,

(01:53:07):
I promise we'll do this carefully. Wesley is contacting some
law enforcement folks, maybe a sting operation, recorded evidence, get
them locked up. You just have to trust me, She
stared at me, searching my eyes for sincerity. Finally, she whispered, Okay,
I'm so tired of living in fear. In that moment,

(01:53:29):
an unspoken bond formed. I had once lost my faith
in people thanks to Amber's infidelity, but Linda's plight reminded
me that some battles are worth fighting. The next day,
Wesley arrived at my loft with a folder of background checks.
He set it on my kitchen table. Ramirez and Jackson
small time criminals with a known record of forcing vulnerable

(01:53:52):
women into prostitution. They sometimes partner with bigger outfits for
drug distribution. Oakfield p d might be come from. There's
talk of them bribing an officer or two. We might
have to go higher up, like the FBI or a
state task force. I nodded grimly. Then we will. Linda's
given us enough details to suspect trafficking. That's a federal offense.

(01:54:16):
Wesley frowned. We'll need direct evidence, possibly recordings of them
threatening her, or testimonies from other victims. Linda might have
to risk wearing a wire, or we coordinate a false
payoff scenario. The idea of Linda facing them while miked
up terrified me, but logic said it was our best shot.
We have to keep her safe, I insisted. Wesley nodded.

(01:54:40):
That afternoon, my phone rang from an unknown number. I sighed,
suspecting it might be Amber again. Sure enough, her voice
came through. You can't hide, Brandon, I found your new address.
We need to talk. I scoffed. Hide. I'm not hiding,
just living my life. Demanded we meet. I refused initially,

(01:55:03):
but her tone turned desperate, laced with threats about spousal support.
I gave up potential promotions for you. I can prove
I deserve alimony. She hissed. My jaw tightened. You gave
up nothing, you cheated. I have evidence. Let's see how
that holds up in court. Then I ended the call.
If she dared show up at my place, I'd call

(01:55:25):
the cops. Tossing my phone aside, I realized how draining
amber still was. Yet a flicker of relief that I'd
left overshadowed the dread. My mind soon refocused on Linda's situation,
someone who actually needed help, not just manipulative theatrix. That evening,
I found Linda after her shift, picking her up from

(01:55:46):
a side street so Ramirez his men wouldn't see her
get into my car. She clutched a small backpack, eyes
darting nervously. They wanted me to entertain a guy tomorrow,
she murmured. I can't do it anymore, Brandon, I can't.
My resolve hardened. You won't. We'll set you up in
a motel under a fake name. I'll pay for it.

(01:56:08):
Then we'll get your grand much transferred. Tears welled up again,
this time with gratitude. I I've never had a stranger
go this far for me. Why I paused, emotion swirling,
Let's just say I know how it feels to be
betrayed and powerless. I refuse to watch someone else suffer
if I can help. She nodded slowly, shoulders trembling. Thank you.

(01:56:33):
I don't deserve this kindness. Yes you do, I said firmly.
Everyone deserves a chance at safety. After settling Linda in
a modest motel, I stood outside her door with her,
explaining that Wesley was working to coordinate with an FBI contact.
WE might need you to help gather evidence. I cautioned

(01:56:53):
that could be risky. She looked pale but determined. She
squeezed my hand. I'll do whatever it is to be free.
They used me like a commodity. I want them to pay.
Her courage struck me. She was vulnerable, yet strong in
her desperation. I recalled how ironically powerless I felt in
my marriage. Amber's cheating left me gutted. But here was

(01:57:16):
Linda risking physical harm yet finding the bravery to fight.
That perspective made me realize how petty Amber's manipulations seemed
by comparison. We parted ways, Linda securing the door behind her.
I sank into my car seat, letting out a long breath.
I was stepping into a battle that could get me
in deep trouble. But for the first time since my

(01:57:39):
marriage collapsed, I felt I was doing something that mattered.
Within days, Nicole updated me on the divorce progress. Amber
was fighting for spousal support, but Nicholl believed we had
the upper hand at Eldary was proven not to mention flagrant. Meanwhile,
Amber discovered my involvement with Linda in some capacity, maybe

(01:58:00):
from gossip or trilling me, because she suddenly confronted me
at a local cafe near Oakfield Main Square. She marched up,
eyes blazing, spewing nonsense about me cheating on her. The
hypocrisy stunned me. You have the nerve to accuse me,
I snapped, I helped a friend in trouble. That's not cheating.
But you literally slept with your coworker behind my back.

(01:58:23):
She ranted that I replaced her with a bar girl.
I bit back a vicious retort, focusing on controlling my tone.
You lost me when you chose Curtis. This conversation is over.
People stared as she grew more hysterical. I walked away,
letting her shrieks fade into the background. Her meltdown was public, humiliating,

(01:58:44):
for her, but I felt no pity. My mind was
on a more pressing matter, Linda and the sting. Finally,
Wesley secured a short meeting with an FBI agent who
specialized in trafficking. We explained Linda's situation. The agent said,
if Flinda agreed to wear a wire and get the
criminals to incriminate themselves, particularly about forcing prostitution or threatening

(01:59:08):
harm to her grandma, they could be arrested on federal charges.
But Linda would have effaced them again dangerously. I thought
of Linda's trembling hands, how she flinched at the mention
of Ramirez. The agent told us, if you do this,
we'll coordinate an immediate takedown, but she has to be
in that meeting alone or with minimal back up to

(01:59:28):
gather the admission. My stomach nodded. It was so risky,
but Linda was ready. She told me if it sets
me free forever, I'll do it. I squeezed her hand,
my voice resolute. You won't face them alone. We'll have
eyes on you every second. She nodded, swallowing her fear. Meanwhile,
Amber's voice still left vitruolic messages on my phone, demanding

(01:59:52):
an audience, I deleted them. I had a big goward
to fight all day, I couldn't get Linda's trembling voice
out of my mine. The plan was set. She'd wear
a concealed mic to meet Ramirez, hopefully capturing him making
direct and criminating threats about her forced sex work. My
friend Wesley had arranged for a discreet FBI team to

(02:00:14):
observe from unmarked vehicles, waiting for that moment of undeniable evidence.
But no matter how I tried to rationalize it, she'll
have back up. The FBI will step in. My gut
churned with anxiety because if anything went wrong, Linda could
be alone in a room with dangerous criminals, and I'd
be outside, powerless to stop a bullet or a knife,

(02:00:35):
or any vicious act they decided to commit. By mid morning,
I was pacing my loft like a caged animal. The
sunlight streamed across the hardwood floor, revealing boxes I still
hadn't untacked from my old life. I'd occasionally catch glimpses
of some memento from my marriage with Amber, a photo
album corner, the wedding invitation. Each relic sharpened my anger

(02:00:58):
and sadness, but all so reaffirmed how I had no
illusions left. The only illusions that mattered to day involved
tricking Ramirez into incriminating himself, And ironically, I was more
nervous for Linda's safety than I'd ever been about my
own heartbreak. Calm, I murmured to myself, You have to
stay calm. Eventually I headed to a quiet diner where

(02:01:21):
we plan to do the final test for Linda's wire.
Wesley was already there, sipping black coffee. He looked up
with a nod when I approached. You look tense, he said,
narrowing his eyes. I forced a weak laugh. Under statement
of the year. He padded my shoulder, a rare show
of affection from a man who usually stayed stoic. She's

(02:01:44):
braver than we know, he said. But yeah, it's risky.
The f b I folks are good at their job.
Though they'll be hidden, we'll have lines of sight once
we get the recording, they'll move in a prickle of
dread coiled in my stomach. We just have to pray
Ramire's doesn't suspect a thing, I whispered. Linda arrived a

(02:02:06):
few minutes later, her face pale but determined. She wore
a simple, dark hoodie that looked one size too large,
maybe to hide the wire gear. She managed a small
smile at me and Wesley, sliding into the booth. Her
hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, no make up,
like she was shedding every pretense, or maybe she was

(02:02:27):
just too anxious to worry about appearances. Hey, she said, softly,
where's the FBI agent again? Wesley jerked his chin toward
a different table, where a tall, broad shouldered man with
a baseball cap sat, pretending to read a newspaper. That
was Agent Terris. If you didn't know better, you might
think he was just a traveling salesman. Linda exhaled shakily,

(02:02:50):
taking comfort in the proximity. All right, we're doing the
final test, Wesley explained. He produced a small device that
looked like a piece of black tail with an attached
micro wire. We'll tape this around your midsection under your shirt. Here,
let's step into the diner's restroom for a second. Linda's
eyes flicked around, feeling exposed even in the mundane diner.

(02:03:14):
I stood to accompany her, but Wesley gently waved me off.
Might be weird. If we all go, he muttered, I'll
help her. You wait here, keep watch. I nodded. Linda
followed Wesley to the back hallway, and I forced myself
to remain seated, fidgeting with my coffee mug. My mind
whirled with scenarios. What if Ramires patted her down? What

(02:03:37):
if the mike malfunctioned? What if the agent's vantage point
was blocked? I rubbed my eyes. This had to work.
By the time Linda and Wesley returned, Linda's footie was
zipped to her neck. Wesley slid back into the booth,
leaning in to speak quietly. Mike check. He said, Linda,
just say a few random words. Linda cleared her throat,

(02:04:00):
her voice trembling slightly. Read Daisy's Tuesday unstoppable. She flushed
at that last word. May be feeling silly, but we
heard a faint crackle from the ear. But in Wesley's
right ear, he gave a thumbs up. Good to go.
That's when Agent Harris put down his newspaper and wandered
over like a board customer. He slid into the booth

(02:04:21):
across from Linda, meeting her nervous gaze with a calm nod.
He spoke in a low voice. We'll have a van
parked near the warehouse. My team's fully armed. The minute
Ramirez makes a statement confirming the forced acts, any mention
of violence, blackmail or controlling your movements will move in.
He paused, glancing at Linda's trembling hands on the table.

(02:04:44):
I can't say I love putting you at risk, miss Anders,
he murmured. But you said you want out for good,
and this is how we pin them. You sure you're
up for it. Linda lifted her chin, eyes shining with fear,
but also resolve. Yes, they ca can't do this to
any other girls if we stop them now. Her voice quivered,

(02:05:05):
but her courage felt tangible. Agent Harris gave an approving nod.
Then he eyed me, Doctor Lockwood, your job is to
wait in the perimeter. Don't rush in. I know you
care about her, but we need to ensure we do
this by the book. My stomach nodded. The last thing
I wanted was to stand by, But I understood and

(02:05:26):
trained interference could spark chaos. Understood, I said, quietly, though
part of me screamed in protest. The chosen meeting spot
was an old warehouse on the outskirts of Oakfield, a
place Ramirez sometimes used for shady exchanges. According to Linda,
he texted her the location, demanding she bring any payments

(02:05:46):
or friends with cash there. Linda had pretended to show reluctance,
as if she wasn't sure how to handle it, probably
to avoid raising suspicion, but the time was set for
seven p m. At six hundred thirty, we pulled into
a deserted lot behind a closed down hardware store. The
evening sky glowed with streaks of orange and pink. Agent

(02:06:07):
Harris's team had already staked out vantage points behind shipping containers.
A black van with tinted windows sat at the far edge,
presumably holding at least three armed agents. I parked my
own car near some stacked pallets, out of direct sight.
Wesley and I stood behind the trunk, scanning the area.
Linda inhaled, deeply, hugging the hoodie around herself. I can't

(02:06:31):
believe I'm about to do this, she whispered, If it
goes wrong, I put a hand on her shoulder, giving
a reassuring squeeze. It won't go wrong. And if they
even think of touching you, Harris's guise will swarm in.
I tried to sound certain, but my heart hammered so
loud I thought she'd hear it. Wesley checked the mic

(02:06:51):
one last time. Remember, Linda, guide them into talking about
controlling you, about forcing you for Grandma's medical bills. If
they mention the sex arrangement, that's even stronger. We just
need them to be explicit. She nodded, swallowing, I'll do
my best. We watched from behind a stack of crates

(02:07:12):
as Linda walked across the cracked pavement toward the warehouse's
big rolling door. The sky had dimmed to a smoky twilight.
I clenched my fists, every muscle, screaming to accompany her,
but we had to keep our distance to maintain the
illusion she was alone. Sure Enough, after a tense minute,
the warehouse door groaned open. Ramirez appeared, flanked by Jackson

(02:07:34):
and two other men. Linda's posture shrank, shoulders hunched. Even
from where I stood partially hidden, I could feel the
intimidation rolling off them. They stepped outside to greet her
in the open yard, presumably to check for trailing cops.
My body quivered with adrenaline. I strained to hear anything.

(02:07:55):
Wesley had an epiece rigged to Linda's Mike feed, and
he whispered the live updates to me. Linda says, I
have some money, but not all. Ramirez snorts, you owe
more than money. We told you that. Linda pleads, just
give me more time or take what I have. Now.
I can't keep doing that. My heart raised. This was it.

(02:08:17):
We needed them to confirm the forced acts. Wesley's voice,
low and urgent, relayed every word. Ramirez, you think you
can walk away, We own you. Don't forget the customers
expecting your attention. Linda. I'm done with that. I want out,
Ramirez too, damn bad. You know the price for your

(02:08:37):
grandma's surgery. You keep working until I say stop. A
chill crawled down my spine. Every vile word out of
Ramirez's mouth was a nail in his coffin. If the
FBI was recording, we had them. My gaze flicked to
the black van. Any second now, I thought they'd swoop in,
but it didn't happen immediately. Maybe they wanted more explicit

(02:09:00):
mention of forced prostitution. Linda, you can't do this. My
grandma's in a hospital nowhere near here. She was bluffing,
but effectively so Ramirez, you sure about that, my friend
says otherwise, even if she's somewhere else, we can reach her.
If you don't keep seeing your clients. She pays the price.

(02:09:22):
Wesley's eyes met mine. He mouthed, that's it, that's enough.
I expected black clad agents to burst out any second.
My pulse hammered. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye,
I glimpsed movement near the warehouses. Two men in hooded
jackets advanced stealthily from opposite sides, guns raised. They wore

(02:09:42):
bulletproof vests with small FBI logos. The moment they stepped
into the open, one yelled f B, I put your
hands up, Ramirez. Chaos erupted. Ramirez's men spun, one reaching
for a weapon. A second agent popped out from behind
a rusted truck, shouting at them to freeze. Linda stumbled

(02:10:02):
backward with a gasp, arms raised so they wouldn't mistake
her for a threat. Then came an explosion of noise.
Drop the gun, drop it. I heard someone fire a
single shot that ricocheted off metal. My heart seized. If
Flinda got hit, God but the FBI had them outnumbered,
it seemed. Another agent in plain clothes tackled Jackson to

(02:10:26):
the ground. Ramirez roared, swinging his elbow at an agent.
The battered agent twisted Ramirez's arm behind his back, forcing
him to the pavement. The other men raised their hands
after seating guns trained on them. In that half minute,
I forgot everything else, sprinting out from cover, ignoring Wesley's
hits to wait. Linda needed me. By the time I

(02:10:48):
reached the cluster of shouting voices, I saw Linda on
her knees, hands over her head in the universal don't
shoot posture. Agent Harris was next to her, telling her
it was okay, guiding her aside. She looked up, eyes
wet with relief, and spotted me Brandon. She gasped, standing unsteadily.
I pulled her into a hug, ignoring the tangle of

(02:11:11):
agents and criminals around us. You're safe, I muttered, breathless.
My chest felt ready to burst from the adrenaline. She
clung to me, burying her face in my shoulder, silent
sobs racking her. The mike under her hoodie crackled with
each trembling breath. All around the FBI pinned Ramirez and

(02:11:31):
his cronies, cuffing them with zip ties. I overheard an
agent reading their rights, emphasizing charges coercion, trafficking, extortion. Another
agent read from a spool of a miranda, statement, they
had the evidence, we had their recorded threats. Ramirez was
shouting curses, claiming entrapment, spitting vitriol. Jackson looked stunned, as

(02:11:54):
though he never imagined Linda might fight back. Within minutes,
local police sirens echoed, presumably responding to the FBI's call.
The glow of red and blue lights lit the warehouse walls.
While the arrested men were lined up and padded down.
An ambulance arrived, two standard procedure to check suspects or
victims for injuries. Thankfully, Linda seemed fiscally unharmed. My pulse

(02:12:19):
still hammered, though the magnitude of what almost happened unsettled
me to the core. Agent Harris approached, sweat beating on
his brow. She did well, He told me, we got
them good enough to put them away for a long time.
You can relax now, doc, I let out a breathy
laugh that sounded half crazed. Relax I repeated, turning to Linda.

(02:12:41):
She gave a teary smile, then slumped into me. Right,
we were free from that immediate threat, But I wasn't
sure about relaxing the reality of the takedown, the gunshot
that had rung out, That haunted me for the next
couple of hours. The FBI insisted on taking Linda for
a full statement at their local field office. She'd be

(02:13:02):
temporarily under protective watch in case any associates of Ramire's
tried retaliation. I insisted on accompanying her. Agent. Harris nodded,
leading us to an unmarked sedan. Wesley followed in his
own car. Inside the sedan, Linda leaned her head against
the seat. I shut I took her hand, feeling it tremble.

(02:13:23):
You did it, I whispered. They can't hurt you any more.
She opened her eyes, the rawness of relief and exhaustion
swirling there. I never thought i'd see the day. Then
she exhaled, blinking tears. Thank you God, Brandon. If not
for you, I'd still be trapped or worse. I couldn't

(02:13:43):
muster words. I just squeezed her hand, mind racing from adrenaline.
The sedation after shock was settling, making me realize how
close we'd skirted disaster. The car rumbled forward, leaving the
warehouse sight behind a swirl of red blue lights in
the rear view mirror. Part of me recognized that the
next steps her official statement testifying dealing with leftover regrets,

(02:14:07):
would be grueling, but at least we'd started the path
to real freedom. For Linda. Sitting in a stark federal
office building at eight in the morning wasn't how I'd
pictured life in Oak Fuld, But less than a day
after the sting, Linda was ushered into a bright lit
interrogation room with Agent Harris, another official named Special Agent Dorfman,

(02:14:28):
and a quiet woman who typed everything on a lapop.
The room smelled faintly of stale coffee and cleaning fluid.
A single overhead light shone on the table. I was
allowed to wait in an adjacent lounge so I wouldn't
disrupt the official statement. My mind played through the events
like a film reel on repeat, Linda's shaky voice, Ramirez's

(02:14:50):
sneering demands the moment the Feds pounced. Now she had
to detail every humiliating aspect of her forced arrangement. Who
approached her, the sums, demanded, the threats, the times she'd
been coerced into entertaining clients. It made me sick to
imagine her describing it from behind a closed door. I
occasionally heard her muffled sobs or the agent's calm prompts,

(02:15:13):
take your time, Miss Anders. Hours dragged on, and FBI
staffer brought me watery coffee, offered a polite smile. She's
very brave, the staffer said softly. I nodded, not trusting
myself to speak. The staffer left silence pressed in again.
I used the downtime to call Nichole, my own lawyer,

(02:15:35):
about the progress of the divorce. The phone crackled as
she delivered updates. Amber's legal counsel is trying to spin
it that you neglected the marriage, pushing her to seek
affection elsewhere. Nichole snorted in annoyance. We have enough evidence
of her affair that a judge won't buy it, but
it might drag out the proceedings. A wave of frustration

(02:15:56):
coursed through me. I just want it done, I said.
The house the accounts, I don't care. She can take
them if she wants as long as I'm free. Nicholl's
tone softened. Don't do anything rash. You built your biotech
start up from scratch. You're entitled to protect that. Don't
let guilt or exhaustion make you sign away everything. I

(02:16:20):
sighed heavily. The last thing I wanted was a prolonged fight.
But Nicholl was right. Amber had no moral claim to
my company. Still, a part of me felt worn out,
battered by everything. Maybe Linda's predicament overshadowed my own. Keep
me posted, I told Nicholl, let's keep it fair but swift.

(02:16:41):
Then I ended the call, leaning back in a plastic
chair that creaked under me. My phone buzzed again, Amber's number.
I let it ring. I had no capacity to deal
with her hysterics while Linda was in the next room
bearing her trauma to federal agents. After what felt like
an eternity, the door opened and Linda stepped out with

(02:17:02):
Agent Harris. Her eyes were bloodshot, cheek stamp, my chest constricted.
I stood meeting her in a few long strides. She
tried to esse m I'll and failed, tears threatening again,
It's done, she whispered, I told them everything. God, it
was so awful to say out loud. I gently placed

(02:17:23):
a hand on her arm. I know, but you're unbelievably strong.
Her shoulders shook, and I guided her away from the
prying eyes of any curious staffers. We found a quiet
corner where she could breathe. She looked up, watery eyes
meeting mine. They're going to keep me under protective custody
for a few days, just to be sure no one

(02:17:44):
tries to retaliate. I nodded, whatever you need, I'll be around. Obviously,
her hand found mine, squeezing lightly. Thank you for not
letting me do this alone. Then she sniffed, releasing a
shaky sigh. They said, I'll probably have to testify in court,
but with the wire recordings it might be an easy conviction.

(02:18:05):
Ramirez can't weasel out. A grim satisfaction settled in me.
He deserved every second behind bars. If not for the law,
I might have personally taught him a lesson, but Linda's
safety was paramount. I'm glad they have enough to lock
him up, I murmured. Agent Harris rejoined us, clearing his throat.
He guided Linda into a small conference room to discuss

(02:18:28):
the next steps. I tagged along at Linda's request. Standing
behind her like moral support, the agent explained they'd put
Linda in a safe house location like a modest guess
house we use for witnesses, guarded by two plain clothed
security details. She would be restricted from normal routines, but
it should only last a few days until further intel

(02:18:51):
confirmed there was no lingering threat. Linda's expression flickered with worry.
I can't keep living on the run. My grandma's still
is in that new hospital. She needs me to visit.
They said they'd handle it, but Agent Harris nodded sympathetically,
we'll coordinate. She's safe as your friend, doctor Lockwood arranged

(02:19:11):
for her transfer under a pseudonym. We haven't found any
direct ties from Ramirez's men to that hospital. If you prefer,
we can keep that location top secret. Let me emphasize
your life is your own now, Miss Anders. We just
want to ensure nothing befalls you before the trial. Linda
swallowed tears of relief, welling again. Write thank you, Agent Harris.

(02:19:36):
I'll do whatever I must. I tried to hide my
discomfort at the idea of Linda being whisked away to
a safe house alone. She needed rest and normalcy, not
more fear. But if the FBI believed there was a risk,
we had to comply. They gave Linda an hour to
gather personal items from the motel where she'd been staying.

(02:19:57):
I drove her there while two unmarked cars follow followed discreetly.
She packed her sparse belongings, just a duff old bag. Meanwhile,
she gave the motel manager a sad wave goodbye. I
realized Linda had essentially lost any semblance of normal life.
Forced prostitution, now witness protection, constant fear. She'd never known

(02:20:20):
a stable home in years. My heart ached. We stood
by my car's trunk, Linda setting the bag inside. She
turned to me, searching my face. I guess i'll see
you once the FEDS say it's safe, she said softly, Yeah,
I managed, throat tight. They said I can't visit the
safe house. She shook her head. They want minimal visitors,

(02:20:44):
minimal info. If they suspect anyone could compromise the location,
they're taking no chances. I tried to keep my face neutral,
but she saw my disappointment. Her eyes shone with emotion.
I'll call you if they let me. This is just
a tra transition right, She tried for a reassuring grin.
I mustered a crooked smile, pulling her into a gentle hug. Write,

(02:21:08):
You'll get through it. Then we can figure out normal life.
She leaned against me, trembling. For a long moment, we
just stood, letting each other's presence be the source of calm.
I call from behind, signaled an agent, Miss Anders, We
need to move, he said. She parted from me with
a small sob wiping her cheeks. Stay safe, Brandon, she whispered.

(02:21:32):
Then just like that, Linda climbed into the FBI vehicle.
My chest fell hollow as I watched it pull away,
tail lights disappearing around the corner. The barbed thought. I'm
not used to letting people handle everything, but for Linda's safety,
I must trust the system. Day's blurred. With Linda stashed away,

(02:21:53):
I had no contact except occasional phone updates from Agent Harris.
He'd say she was cooperating, adjusting well, no sign of threats,
et cetera. I tried focusing on my IVF consulting at
the local fertility clinic. The staff there were friendly enough,
but I caught myself lost in day dreams about Linda's safety,

(02:22:14):
or rehashing the day of the sting. Once in the
clinic breakroom, a nurse asked if I was all right.
You've been pretty quiet, doc. I realized I was standing
there coffee cup in hand, not having poured it yet.
Just personal stuff, I said, with an apologetic shrug. She
nodded in sympathy, probably used to doctors who carried baggage

(02:22:35):
from outside. On top of that, Amber threats about the
divorce continued. She wanted negotiations. My lawyer kept me updated.
I gave minimal responses. My heart no longer had space
for her manipulations. She was desperate for money or a reconciliation,
maybe both, but each attempt from her only hardened my

(02:22:57):
resolve to finalize the divorce. Evening, I left the fertility
clinic after a late shift. Stepping into the dusky parking lot,
I froze when I spotted Amber perched on the hood
of my car, her arms folded, a determined glint in
her eyes. This was the first time I'd seen her
in person since her meltdown in Oakfield's cafe. I walked

(02:23:20):
forward cautiously. What are you doing here? I demanded, trying
to keep my voice level. She slid off the hood,
letting out a caustic laugh. So this is where you
ran off to, hiding behind fertility patients while you woosome
bar girl. The bitterness in her tone stung once that
voice had been full of love. I unlocked my car door.

(02:23:42):
I'm not discussing Linda with you. Amber's eyes flashed. So
it is her name, Linda. You replaced me so fast.
She spat the word as though it were a curse.
Unbelievable exasperation mingled with fury. Amber, you replaced me with Curtis.
Remember er, I discovered your affair. That's why we're here,

(02:24:03):
not because I wanted it. You started this for a moment,
she faltered. Curtis was a mistake, she murmured. I told
you I ended it. I keep telling you we can
fix us. I barked a laugh, loud in the quiet
lot us. We're done. I'm not interested. Her expression hardened,
tears brimming. You can't just throw me away, Our life,

(02:24:26):
our years together, don't they matter, a swirl of sadness
and anger churned. They did matter, I said, quietly, until
you destroyed them. It's over. Accept it? She glared tears spilling. Fine,
you want a war, You'll get it. I'll see you
in court. Then she spun on her heel and marched

(02:24:46):
to a black sedan parked a few spots over. I
watched her drive away, heart pounding a war. I already
had enough wars in Linda's absence. I felt a responsibility
to check on her grandmud well being. The older woman
was convalescing in a hospital under an assumed name, arranged
by the money I'd funneled for her medical care. She

(02:25:09):
had no other relatives around, so one afternoon I visited,
carrying a small bouquet of daisies. The nurse recognized me
from the admitting process. Oh, doctor Lockwood, you're the sponsor. Correct,
Miss Anders is stable, recovering well. I nodded, a bit anxious.
She knows me as Linda's friend. I want to make

(02:25:31):
sure she's comfortable. Linda's out of reach right now. The
nurse led me to the grandmother's room. The older woman
lay propped against pillows, breathing softly. She was awake, though
squinting at me. Brandon, dear, is that you? Her voice wavered.
We met once, very briefly during the chaotic hospital transfer.

(02:25:52):
I offered the daisies, placing them on the bedside table. Yes,
ma'am Linda, she's okay, but she's dealing with some big changes.
I'm here to make sure you have everything you need.
She patted the bed edge, beckoning me closer. Sit child.
Linda told me about you. She said you rescued her
from that awful bar and from those men. I sat,

(02:26:15):
feeling a pang. I just helped. She did most of
it herself, I said, gently, how are you feeling? She sighed,
a small smile, creasing her face better, thanks to the
good doctor's here. My granddaughter is a fighter, you know.
I just want her to be happy. Please watch over
her if you can. She's had such a hard life.

(02:26:38):
Emotion clogged my throat. I promise, I whispered. As soon
as she's done with some legal matters, she'll come see you.
The grandmother gently squeezed my hand. You're a good man, Brandon,
don't let the world ruin that. I nodded, swallowing a
wave of emotion. Later that evening, as I was finishing

(02:26:58):
leftover Chinese takeout in my loft, my phone buzzed with
an unknown number. I hoped it might be Linda. Instead
it was agent Harris, Doctor Lockwood, I have some updates
on the Ramirez case. Mind if we talk. I put
down my fork. Sure, what's new? His tone was confident.
We found substantial evidence from Ramirez's phone, lots of incriminating

(02:27:22):
texts about collecting from Linda, combined with the wire audio.
The US Attorney's office is pushing for a quick plea
deal or a trial. They don't think Ramirez can wiggle out.
Jackson might try to flip on Ramirez. Not sure yet. Regardless,
Linda's testimony is still valuable, but it might not be

(02:27:42):
as heavily needed. If the recordings are strong enough. Relief
bloomed in my chest. That's great, So she might not
have to endure a full court room grilling. Harris paused. Potentially,
the DA might want her to do a deposition or
appear at sentencing, but we'll see. Also, we're concluding that
Linda can be released from safe house custody soon, probably

(02:28:05):
in a couple of days, if all remains quiet, no
sign of goons trying to track her. My shoulders sagged
with relief. That's incredible, Thank you. He cleared his throat
She's asked about you a lot. I can't pass messages,
but I thought you'd like to know. A small smile
curved my lips at that. Thanks, Agent, let me know

(02:28:27):
how else I can help. Then we ended the call.
That night, I couldn't sleep. My mind circled around Linda
being free soon, freed not just from the bar, but
from that entire horrifying environment, freed from life threatening debts,
freed from the invisible shackles. Meanwhile, I was also nearing
my own freedom, my final severance from Amber. Hopefully, the

(02:28:51):
parallel was striking. We both had captors in different forms.
Hers used direct violence while mine used emotional betrayal, but
we each fought back, forging a path to something new.
Somewhere past midnight, I found myself at the window, gazing
at the dark oak Field Street. A small longing tugged

(02:29:11):
at me. For a moment, I let my mind wander,
if Flinda recovers from all this, if she can reclaim
normal life, might we have a chance at something more
than friendship? Weed grown close in a swirl of crisis.
But was their deeper compatibility the memory of her leaning
her head on my chest, trusting me in the face

(02:29:32):
of danger warmed me. Then I reminded myself she'd survived
severe trauma. I had no right to push anything romantic
too soon. Still, a quiet voice inside me murmured, she's
drawn to your kindness, you to her resilience. Maybe love
is possible. Eventually, I watched the street lamp's flicker, the

(02:29:52):
hush of night enveloping me. Despite the swirl of uncertainties,
Amber's legal war, Linda's healing, the upcoming trial, I felt
a flicker of hope, and that small flame was enough
to keep me standing forging forward. Three days after my
conversation with Agent Harris, I got the call i'd been
eagerly awaiting. Lindall was released from the FBI safe house.

(02:30:15):
She was free to resume her life, though under the
caution that she shouldn't travel alone to remote places for
a while, just in case. My heart soared hearing her
voice for the first time since the sting. She called
me from a phone number I didn't recognize. Brandon, She said,
a smile audible in her tone. I'm out at a
small hotel near downtown Oakfield. They gave me enough money

(02:30:39):
for a few nights. Will you come see me? Of course,
I breathed, adrenaline, spiking. My schedule at the clinic was
flexible that afternoon, so I hopped in my car. Immediately,
as I navigated through traffic, I realized my heart pounded
like a teenager on a first date. I tried to
calm down, telling myself Linda had been through she might

(02:31:01):
just need a friend or caredacre. Still, the blossoming excitement
was undeniable. The hotel was a modest chain establishment. I
found Linda's room number and knocked softly, anticipating her presence
on the other side. The door opened, revealing her wearing
a simple T shirt and jeans. She looked more relaxed

(02:31:21):
than I'd ever seen her, no overshadowing gloom, no forced hush.
Her eyes sparkled with relief. Without speaking, we embraced a gentle,
lingering hug that said more than words. I felt the
tension seep from my muscles, replaced by a warmth. After
a moment, she drew back, wiping tears. God, I missed you,

(02:31:42):
she murmured. I missed you too, I said quietly. We
stepped inside, letting the door close. Her room was tidy,
a single bed, some clothes, folded on a chair a
small table with the lamp. She'd set the daisies. I
gave her Grandma in a glass. Though they were wilting
a bit. My heart clenched at the sweet gesture. She

(02:32:04):
perched on the bed's edge, patting the spot next to her.
Tell me everything. How have you been? I eased down,
trying to gather my scattered thoughts, worried, mostly checking on
your grandma. She's stable, also dealing with the final divorce nonsense.
Linda nodded sympathetically, waiting for me to continue. It's been

(02:32:25):
a blur, but enough about me. How was the safe house?
She let out a dry laugh, boring mostly cooped up,
rethinking my life choices, grateful though knowing I'm actually safe
for once. She paused, fiddling with her shirt. Hem, you
really saved me, Brandon. That day at the bar feels

(02:32:46):
like forever ago. A hush settled. I dared to lay
a hand over hers. We saved each other. Maybe I
was drowning in my own heart break until I saw
someone who needed help more than I needed pity to
Tears glistened in her eyes, but a smile curved her lips. Well,
let's just say you are the best thing that happened

(02:33:07):
to me in that hell. Something about the quiet intimacy
of that room emboldened me, Linda, I began softly. I
know you're still processing everything, and I don't want to push,
but these feelings were dancing around. Do you want to
talk about them? She blinked, cheeks flushing feelings. She echoed,

(02:33:27):
you mean for each other. I exhaled, tension coiling in
my chest. I feel connected to you in a way
I can't ignore, But I don't want to complicate your healing.
You faced enough trauma. I'm willing to wait or just
be your friend if that's all you can handle. Her
lips parted, eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper, Brandon,

(02:33:48):
I care for you too. I'm not naive though I
have baggage. You have baggage, but maybe we can figure
it out together if we take it slow. If that's
all right. Relief and warm flooded me. Slow is perfect,
I assured her. Then, in a gentle move, I cupped
her cheek, leaning into place a soft kiss on her forehead.

(02:34:09):
She closed her eyes, letting a tear slip free. The
emotional weight was palpable. This wasn't just some fling. It
felt like two wounded souls forging a hopeful step forward.
We spent the afternoon discussing the practical steps Linda needed
to take. She had no stable job. The bar was
obviously out of the question. She'd been coerced and away,

(02:34:32):
so that place was a closed chapter. She had no
permanent home except for the single day she'd spent at
my place or the cheap motel arrangement from before, and
she still needed to ensure her grandmother's ongoing care. Do
you want to try finishing your ged or go back
to school, I asked. She'd mentioned once that she never

(02:34:52):
completed high schooldo to family chaos. She considered the idea,
nibbling her lip. I always dreamed of some in the
medical field. Ironically, maybe as a nurse or a care assistant,
if the hospital environment doesn't trigger me after what I've
been through, I nodded, seeing the spark in her, I
bet you'd be great, your compassionate, strong under pressure. We

(02:35:16):
can explore scholarships or adult education programs. I'll help. She
gave me a grateful smile. You're not worried about me
being a financial burden on you. I shook my head.
I'm secure enough, especially once the divorce is final. Money
matters less than seeing you safe and self sufficient. She
pressed her palm to my chest for a moment. Thank you,

(02:35:39):
But I want to stand on my own feet, not
just rely on you. That's important to me, My respect
for her sword. I get it. Let's figure out a plan,
something that doesn't trap you in debt or dependence. A
surprising turn of events came later that evening. Linda's phone
buzzed with the number she didn't recognize. She answered hesitantly,

(02:36:02):
then her face lit up with shock. Celeste, she whispered,
tears flooding her eyes. I watched, puzzled. After a short conversation,
Linda ended the call, breath shaking. That was my younger sister,
she said, hoarsely. We got separated in foster care ages ago.
We barely kept in touch. She heard from a friend.

(02:36:24):
I was in trouble, but apparently the news of the
bust leaked. She's driving through Oakfield wants to see me.
Is that okay? I was taken aback, but quickly said,
of course, that's amazing news. Linda sniffled, half laughing. She
was only eight when I got kicked to another home.
She's nineteen now, so I hardly know her anymore. But

(02:36:47):
maybe we can reconnect. My heart warmed at seeing Linda's
family Tyree emerge, a potential bright spot after so much darkness.
We arranged to meet Celeste at a cafe the next day.
Linda's still shaky, but hopeful. Meanwhile, Linda felt an urge
to see her grandma first. She'd been absent from the
older woman for weeks, aside from my visits, so we

(02:37:11):
decided that night to drive to the hospital. The staff
recognized her, giving sympathetic glances. Maybe they knew about her
ordeal from me or from the hush hush transfer arrangements.
In her grandma's room, Lynda teared up, instantly hugging the
frail figure in bed. The grandmother stroked Linda's hair. Baby,

(02:37:31):
you look so tired, she whispered. I was worried, sick.
Brandon told me, bits and pieces, Are you truly safe?
Linda nodded, tears dripping onto the bed sheets. Yes, Grandma,
the men who threatened us are in custody. The older
woman's eyes flicked to me. He's a good man. She
told Linda, I see how he cares for you. Don't

(02:37:54):
let fear push him away. Linda blushed, nodding, I won't, Grandma.
We're taking it slow. The grandmother gave a fond smile,
then motioned me closer, patting my hand. Look after her, Brandon,
you too deserve peace. The emotion swelled in my chest.
I'll do my best, I promised quietly. The next day,

(02:38:16):
Linda and I arrived at a small cafe, a bright
corner spot with pastel walls and potted plants. We chose
a booth near the window so Celeste could spot us easily.
Linda was fidgety, anxiously twisting her straw wrapper. What if
she hates me for abandoning her, she fretted. We were
kids and I was powerless, But maybe she blames me.

(02:38:39):
I squeezed her hand. All you can do is be honest.
Let her see who you are now. A few minutes later,
a slim young woman with dyed pink streaks in her
hair hesitantly stepped inside, scanning the cafe. Linda froze, that's her,
she whispered. Then Celeste's eyes landed on Linda, and they
both seemed stunned. Celeste approached, voice trembling Linda. Linda stood

(02:39:03):
and they stared for a heartbeat before hugging fiercely. Tears
welled up, Celeste, burying her face in Linda's shoulder. God,
I've missed you, she croaked. A pang of empathy tugged
at me. Another piece of Linda's life was returning to her.
I waited politely until they parted. Linda guided Celeste to
the booth, introducing me, voice thick with emotion, Celeste, this

(02:39:27):
is Brandon. He saved my life in more ways than one.
Celeste's eyes flicked to me a curious mixture of gratitude
and weariness. Thank you for helping my sister. I was
so scared when I heard rumors she was in trouble.
She sat twisting her sweatshirt hem nervously. The sisters talked
for an hour, recounting bits of childhood, the foster homes,

(02:39:50):
the chaos after their parents disappeared. Celeste had ended up
on the West Coast for a while, eventually turning eighteen
and leaving the system. She'd found a room a part
time job, but always felt she was missing pieces of
her life. Namely Linda. Linda confessed some details of the
bar fiasco and the criminals. Celeste's face crumpled. You had

(02:40:12):
to do that all alone. Why didn't you call me?
I might have found a way to help. Tears glimmered
in Linda's eyes. I didn't know how to contact you.
I was too ashamed and away that life. It was
forced on me, but I still felt dirty. She reached
for Celeste's hands. I'm sorry, Celeste shook her head fiercely.

(02:40:34):
Don't apologize. None of that is your fault. I'm just
sad you went through it. Then, Celeste smiled Riley. At
least we found each other now, Linda gave a teary laugh,
glancing at me. Ye we did. The sisters then shared
small anecdotes from their different paths. I listened, heart warmed

(02:40:54):
by their reconnection. It was a piece of Linda's puzzle
sliding back into place. May be a sign that she
could build a real support network. Over the following days,
Celeste stayed in Oakfield, bunking with Linda in her small
hotel room. They spent time exploring the city, talking about
everything from old TV shows they liked as kids to

(02:41:16):
bigger dreams, Linda wanting to pursue nursing, Celeste uncertain about
her future. I mostly let them have sister time, popping
in occasionally. They invited me out to dinner. Once or twice,
Celeste teased Linda, so, you and Brandon you're an item.
Linda flushed, laughing that it was new and complicated. But

(02:41:37):
I saw approval in Celeste's eyes, as though she recognized
the genuine care between us. One afternoon, Linda asked me
to join them for a small orchard visit on the
outskirts of Oakfield. The orchard had a scenic walking path
and a farm stand. I was a little uneasy. Public
outings still carried a faint risk if Ramires had unknown associates.

(02:42:00):
But with him behind bars, maybe it was safe. We
strolled among rows of apple trees, sunlight filtering down a
gentle breeze, carrying the sweet scent of ripening fruit. Celeste,
chewing on an apple sample from the stand, teased Linda,
he's all right, sis, not too shabby for an older guy.
She winked. Linda rolled her eyes, but I saw the

(02:42:23):
smile she tried to hide. I smirked, Glad to have
your seal of approval Celeste. That day, Linda seemed lighter,
as if a dark cloud had lifted. She'd laugh easily
with her sister, banter with me about orchard facts every
so often, though I'd notice a flicker of anxiety in
her eyes. Trauma doesn't vanish overnight, but the orchard trip

(02:42:46):
felt like a new beginning, a test of normalcy. All
the while Amber's demands and the divorce proceeded, Nicole told
me via phone that we had a hearing date soon.
She's threatening to bring up personal matters about your relationship
with a prostitute. Nichole's voice stripped contempt at Amber's tactic,
don't let it rattle you. My blood boiled. The idea

(02:43:09):
that Amber would brand Linda a prostitute to gain leverage
in a divorce stung me deeply. She's messing with the
wrong man. After what I've been through, I told Nichole,
Linda was coerced. She's a victim, not a prostitute. My
lawyer agreed, warning me that the judge might see Amber's
claims as petty attempts to deflect from her own adultery.

(02:43:31):
We'll be prepared, Nichole assured, me. I stormed around my
loft after that call, furious at Amber's cruelty. Linda found
me pacing when she dropped by that evening. I relayed
what Amber was plotting, trying to keep my anger level.
Linda's face fell, a hint of shame flickering in her eyes.
I'm sorry my past might hurt your case, she said quietly.

(02:43:55):
I grasped her shoulders gently. No, you didn't choose that life.
She can't twist it into a weapon. If the judge
wants the truth, we'll give it. You were trafficked. She
has no moral high ground. A tear slipped down Linda's cheek.
Thank you, she whispered, leaning into me. My arms closed
around her, A fierce protectiveness blooming inside. Let Amber do

(02:44:20):
her worst. I wouldn't abandon Linda or hide our connection.
Time edged toward the family court hearing, in which Amber
and I would finalize the divorce terms. Nikole prepared stacks
of evidence about Amber's affair with Curtis, text logs, hotel records,
et cetera. We also had proof I'd funded the entire
biotech start up before marriage, meaning it wasn't communal property.

(02:44:44):
Amber's lawyer however, insisted she'd been instrumental in marketing and networking,
demanding a cut of the enterprise's value. On top of that,
Amber planned to smear Linda's background. My gut turned each
time I thought about it. Linda assured me me she'd
stand by me if needed, but I wanted to spare
her the humiliation. Nicholl said it might not come to that.

(02:45:07):
Amber's accusations were tangential to the main issue of assets. Still,
I dreaded the possibility of Linda being dragged through the mud.
Linda and Celeste offered to accompany me to the court
house for moral support, but I told them to wait
until we saw if it was necessary. Linda's trauma was
still fresh. I didn't want her facing Amber venom unless

(02:45:29):
absolutely needed. A day before the hearing, Celeste announced she
was heading back west, needing to return to her job.
She and Linda tearfully said goodbye in the hotel hallway.
Keep in touch, Celeste insisted, I'll come back soon, or
maybe you'll come see me. Linda nodded, promising to call
or text daily. I could see the sisters forging the

(02:45:51):
bond that might anchor Linda's sense of family in a
stable way. Celeste hugged me somewhat shyly. Thanks for helping
my sister, She murmured, I was worried she'd never escape
that nightmare. You're good for her, I gave a soft smile.
She's good for me too, Safe travels Celeste. With that,

(02:46:11):
Celeste was gone, leaving Linda visibly downcast but grateful for
the reconnection. We spent that evening quietly in my loft,
Linda dozing on the couch while I skimmed the final
divorce paperwork. The hush felt comforting, a new kind of
domestic peace overshadowing my memories of the tension with Amber.
The hearing day dawned crisp and sunny. I arrived at

(02:46:34):
the County court House with Nicole by my side. In
the corridors, I spotted Amber with her attorney. She wore
a tailored black skirt suit, hair pulled back in a
severe bun. She looked sharp but tense. Our eyes locked briefly.
A flash of old familiarity pricked me, like once we
were a team, but that memory evaporated as she turned away.

(02:46:57):
Chin Hi. We filed into the small family court chamber
wooden benches, a single judge, a clerk, a couple of attorneys.
My heart pounded as the bailiff announced the case. The judge,
an older woman with silver hair, sat behind a wide
desk scanning the docket. I glanced at Nicoll, who gave

(02:47:17):
an encouraging nod. Amber's lawyer began with the speel My
client gave up significant earning potential to support doctor Lockwood's career,
managed social connections that enhanced his biotech business. Nicole rolled
her eyes discreetly. When it was our turn. Nicole calmly
presented our evidence of how I financed the entire start

(02:47:37):
up from personal funds, how Amber's involvement was minimal in
those early phases. Then she dropped the bomb of Amber's
adulterous relationship, providing text logs and photos. The judge's expression tightened,
flicking disapproval toward Amber. Amber's lawyer tried to pivot. But
doctor Lockwood has been openly associating with a prostitute or

(02:47:59):
true traffed individual. He invests personal funds in her, even
possibly cohabiting. This suggests Nicole cut in voice crisp objection,
your honor, the so called prostitute was a victim of
forced trafficking. This is documented in an ongoing federal case.
That matter has no direct bearing on the distribution of

(02:48:21):
marital assets or spousal support. Additionally, we questioned the relevance
of doctor Lockwood's post separation relationships. The judge raised a
brow gaze, flitting between me and Amber. Council, is there
any proof that doctor Lockwood's personal choices in danger miss
Lockwood's rights, diespousal support, adultery or not. Amber's lawyer floundered,

(02:48:44):
stammering about moral grounds, but the judge held up a hand.
This is a no false state for property division. In effect.
Adultery does factor in certain ways, but I see no
reason to explore doctor Lockwood's new acquaintances, especially if the
affair and separation have been established. She turned to Amber,
eyes narrowing, it's not wise to sling mud regarding a

(02:49:07):
traumatized trafficking victim that lacks relevance and compassion. A flush
crept across Amber's cheeks. My tension eased fractionally. Nichole gave
me a small triumphant smile, as if saying we got this.
The next hour was a tedious back and forth about finances.
Amber demanded partial ownership of my biotech shares. Nikole argued

(02:49:31):
the entire operation preceded the marriage, with minimal spousal input.
The judge seemed to lean in our favor, noting how
Amber's actual marketing job was at a different pharma company,
not my starbup. She might get a portion of the
marital homes equity, plus some compensation for any shared accounts,
but the bulk of my biotech enterprise not hers. At

(02:49:53):
one point, Amber Rose's voice trembling with frustration, claiming I'd
used our joint finances to relocate Nichole calmly countered that
I sold personal assets for that move, then put money
aside precisely because of her affair. The judge listened intently,
occasionally frowning at Amber's emotional outbursts. By midday, the judge

(02:50:14):
decided Amber was not entitled to spousal support, citing her
adultery as a factor, as well as the fact she
earned enough in her own marketing role. The marital house
would be sold, or she could buy me out at
fair market value. She'd receive a minor settlement from some
shared savings, but no chunk of my biotech stock. The

(02:50:35):
judge spoke in a measured tone, this is a fair arrangement,
considering all evidence. A wave of relief nearly buckled my knees.
That was it, my core livelihood, My company was safe
and I wouldn't be drained by spousal payments. The judge
ordered a final hearing in a few weeks to sign
the official divorce decree, but the terms were basically set.

(02:50:57):
Amber's face was stormy, tears bringing. She glanced at me
with a look that teetered between anger and heartbreak. For
a split second, I thought she might apologize or say something. Instead,
she spun on her heel, storming out behind her. Lawyer
Nichole padded my arm. Congratulations, you'll be fully free soon.

(02:51:18):
I inhaled, a mix of elation and sorrow, swirling. The
last vestiges of my marriage had just crumbled, but it
was time time to truly move on. I walked out
of the court house into bright sunshine that felt too
cheerful for the swirl in my chest. Nicholl had other
clients waiting, so we parted ways. I lingered by the steps,

(02:51:40):
scanning the crowd for any sign of Amber. She was gone,
presumably part of me almost wonted closure, some final hand
jake or goodbye. Another part recognized that no closure existed
with a cheater who tried to smear an innocent traffic
king serve. I am lady Truth, and I hope you

(02:52:00):
enjoyed that cheat. More stories to come, and I will
talk to you in the next one.

All Episodes

Episode Transcript

Popular Podcasts

Stuff You Should Know

CrimeLess: Hillbilly Heist

Dateline NBC

.css-15opob5{left:0;position:absolute;top:0.8rem;} All Episodes

.css-14f5ked{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:2;overflow:hidden;}IVF Doc Exposed Cheating Wife In Our Bedroom, Freed A Forced Bar Girl & Rebuilt His Life Completely

Episode Transcript

Popular Podcasts

.css-r6mb8g{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:1;overflow:hidden;}Stuff You Should Know

CrimeLess: Hillbilly Heist

Dateline NBC

All Episodes

IVF Doc Exposed Cheating Wife In Our Bedroom, Freed A Forced Bar Girl & Rebuilt His Life Completely

Stuff You Should Know