The next morning, as I come down for breakfast, I open the newspaper—and right there, on the front page, is a photo of Giselle and that idiot Nathan holding hands. My appetite vanishes instantly, and I glare at them with nothing but hatred.

I start reading the article, and the moment it mentions how my wife “gave me a taste of my own medicine” after years of infidelity with my assistant, I let out a frustrated growl.

“They're having a field day with everything that went down last ...