The Game a Mistress Played (And Won) After 22 Years and 9 Kids
The Price of Paradise: His Brazilian “Love” Affair
Cancun. A paradise of sun-kissed beaches and turquoise waters now tainted by the sting of his betrayal.
The seductive photos of his mistress at our Cancun timeshare were a confirmation of my worst fears — of what I’d long suspected. Each photo was a gut punch, a cold fist twisting within me.
His mistress, wearing little more than a coy smile and thong, posed provocatively for him. It felt taunting — as though her smirk was meant for me. A cruel mockery to the memories of family vacations we’d cherished.
In one of the pictures, she held the same parrot our children had held for family photos. In another, she was laughing with a woman by the pool — whether friends or lovers was hard to tell. Their eyes were tired and heavy, like they’d had one too many nights out drinking. Their smiles felt empty, their eyes lacking the telltale lines of joy.
Twenty-two years. Nine children. A lifetime of memories and shared dreams, reduced to a slideshow of his deceit. His mistress was young, tall, and curvy in all the right places. But it was easy to see through her facade — I could have saved him the money and heartache — my middle-aged husband wasn’t her type.
