My Wife Texted: “My Ex Just Ended His Relationship. He Asked Me To Be There.” Then I Withdrew…

My Wife Texted: “My Ex Just Ended His Relationship. He Asked Me To Be There.” Then I Withdrew…
Adrenaline is a funny thing. In a fight, it makes you swing hard. In my line of work, it makes you type fast. I didn't panic. I didn't throw the phone across the room. I had maybe fifteen seconds before she walked out that door, towel-dried and smelling like the lavender body wash she only used on special occasions.
Fifteen seconds is an eternity if you know shortcuts.
I didn't just want to read her texts; I wanted to own the device. I tapped into her settings, navigated to the developer options I’d secretly enabled months ago "to fix a glitch," and turned on USB debugging. Then I quickly installed a localized parent-child monitoring packet—a nasty little piece of code I’d written for a freelance client who wanted to track his teenagers. It hid itself as a "System UI" update. It gave me everything: GPS, keystrokes, camera access, and microphone activation.
I locked the screen and placed the phone back on the counter, exactly two inches from the edge, just as I’d found it.
The bathroom door swung open. A cloud of steam rolled out, followed by Kena. She was wrapped in a white towel, her skin flushed, looking more vibrant than she had in our presence for years. She spotted me drinking my coffee and offered a tight, practiced smile.
"Morning, babe," she said, breezing past me to grab her phone. She checked the screen instantly. I watched her shoulders relax when she saw it was still locked. "Did you sleep okay? You were tossing and turning."
"Work dreams," I lied. "Server migration gone wrong."
"Sounds thrilling." She was already texting, her thumbs flying across the glass. "Hey, I completely forgot to tell you, but the team is doing a strategy brunch this morning. Last-minute crisis with the Peterson account. I might be late coming home."
"On a Sunday?" I asked, keeping my voice level.


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