I knew my husband was cheating on me, and I met his mistress. Instead of getting angry, I did this…

Yvonne Marsh. She appeared first as a LinkedIn connection, second degree, mutual contact in finance, a senior analyst at a private equity firm in Chicago. Her photograph was professional, serious, and dark-haired. She looked, I thought with a strange detachment, like someone I might have been friends with in another version of this story.

Her firm had contracted with G. Harmon Consultancy eighteen months ago—an engagement worth just under four hundred thousand dollars. A number large enough to matter. It explained the new cologne, the morning gym visits, and the unmentioned trips. Yvonne Marsh was a key to something larger—I knew instinctively.