At first, I didn’t think much of it when I noticed my daughter-in-law, Kate, sneaking off into the woods. She always claimed she was foraging for mushrooms, but after weeks of these evening disappearances, returning empty-handed each time, I knew something wasn’t right.
In my forty years working in the corporate world, climbing the ranks from junior analyst to senior management consultant, one thing I’d learned was to trust my instincts. And something about Kate’s behavior raised alarms. Yet, following her into those woods that evening? That decision now weighs heavier on me than any business deal I ever made.
But before I get to that day, let me tell you a little about my life.
My wife, Fiona, and I met in college. We married young and built our life together through a series of struggles and triumphs. Like any marriage, we faced our share of storms, the worst hitting in 1989. At the time, I was working seventy-hour weeks, barely seeing Fiona or our son, Leonard. The distance between us grew until it felt like we were strangers living under the same roof.
I hadn’t realized how far we’d drifted until the night Fiona packed her bags.
“I can’t do this anymore, Misael,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “You’re chasing promotions, and I’m raising our son alone.”
Instead of walking out the door, she suggested marriage counseling. Fiona’s wisdom and patience saved our marriage that year. Dr. Williams, our counselor, helped us rebuild, and I learned that no success mattered if you didn’t have family to share it with. But that’s a story for another time.
Leonard, our son, was the kind of kid every parent dreams of—smart, kind, hardworking. He made parenting seem easy. Straight As, varsity baseball captain, well-liked by everyone. He even got into a prestigious university, and we couldn’t have been prouder. But graduating during a recession took its toll on him. Despite his business degree, he ended up in a low-paying job, barely managing his student loans.
That’s where Kate came in. I remember the Sunday morning Leonard told us he planned to propose to her.
It was a crystal-clear memory—Fiona was making her famous blueberry pancakes, the smell of coffee filling the kitchen.
“Mom, Dad,” Leonard said, fidgeting with his napkin. “I need to tell you something.”
“What is it, son?” Fiona asked, her attention still on the pancakes.
“I’m going to ask Kate to marry me,” Leonard announced.
Fiona nearly dropped the spatula. We’d only met Kate twice, and something about her seemed off. Leonard’s sudden decision felt rash.
“Son,” I said carefully, “eight months isn’t very long to know someone.”
Leonard’s expression hardened. “Dad, I love her. When you know, you know.”
“But honey,” Fiona added, “remember what happened with Jamie? You thought she was ‘the one’ too.”
Leonard’s frustration mounted. “This is different. Kate is different.”
“How so?” I pressed. “She dodges questions about her family, never talks about her past—”
“Because her past was difficult!” Leonard snapped, slamming his fist on the table. “You don’t know what she’s been through!”
We couldn’t convince him otherwise. So, we gave our blessing, even though my gut told me otherwise. They got married last spring and moved in with us to save money.
At first, Kate was a dream daughter-in-law—helping with chores, bringing Fiona flowers, even organizing our cluttered garage. But it didn’t last. Her behavior began to shift.
It started with small irritations. She’d snap at Leonard over trivial things, like wet towels on the bathroom floor, or grow impatient when Fiona suggested recipes. We assumed it was stress—Kate had lost her job and was struggling to find work. Leonard was convinced her frustrations stemmed from that.
“She’s just under a lot of pressure,” he’d tell us. “It’s not easy right now.”
But then came the odd disappearances. She’d leave the house at strange hours, always with a new excuse.
“I’m meeting Miley for coffee,” she’d say one day.
“Jenny needs help with her dog,” the next.
When Leonard expressed interest in meeting these friends, Kate always had a reason to avoid it. “Miley’s going through a bad breakup. She doesn’t want to meet anyone right now,” or “Jenny’s too shy for new people.”
This went on for weeks, with Kate constantly on her phone, taking calls in hushed tones and slipping away into the woods in the evenings. She claimed to be foraging for mushrooms, but it was Fiona who raised the alarm.
“She’s gone into the woods again,” Fiona said one night, pacing the kitchen. “Third time this week.”
“Maybe she really is foraging,” I replied, though even I didn’t believe it anymore.
“Mushrooms at night? Come on, Misael! She’s probably cheating on Leonard,” Fiona insisted.
I tried to calm her down. “Where’s the proof?” I asked.
“I don’t have any,” she admitted, tears filling her eyes. “But something’s not right. Leonard deserves better.”
Fiona’s words haunted me for days. The thought of Kate betraying our son gnawed at me. So, one evening, when Kate grabbed her basket and slipped out the door again, I decided to follow her.
The forest path was tricky in the dark, but I knew the woods well after decades of living nearby. Kate moved swiftly, confidently. She didn’t hesitate once.
Finally, she reached an old, abandoned hunting cabin. I remembered it belonged to a neighbor who’d passed away years ago. Kate slipped inside, and I crept closer, peeking through a grimy window.
What I saw shook me to my core.
Kate stood in front of a cracked mirror, pulling out a suit, a short wig, and a fake mustache from her basket. As she dressed, her entire appearance transformed. When she finished, I barely recognized her. She looked like a completely different person, even changing the way she moved.
I hid as she left the cabin, following her from a distance. She made her way to a nearby café, where she sat down across from an older man in a suit. They laughed together, their body language familiar and comfortable. My heart sank when I saw him kiss her hand before they parted ways.
I couldn’t believe it. Kate had been living a double life.
Later that night, when Kate returned home, she found the three of us—Fiona, Leonard, and myself—waiting in the living room.
“Kate,” Leonard’s voice cracked. “Are you cheating on me?”
Her eyes widened in shock. “What are you talking about?”
“I followed you,” I said quietly. “I saw the cabin, the disguise, the man at the café.”
Kate’s face drained of color. “It’s not what you think,” she stammered.
Leonard stood up. “Then explain.”
Kate took a deep breath. “That man… he’s wealthy. He thinks I’m someone else—a man named Karl. He promised me property in his will if I kept having dinner with him. I did it for us, Leonard. I never cheated. It was for our future!”
Leonard’s face twisted with hurt and disbelief. “You lied to me, to all of us. You manipulated a man for money and deceived your husband. This isn’t the woman I married.”
Tears streamed down Kate’s face as she begged for forgiveness, but Leonard was resolute. “We’re done,” he said, turning to walk upstairs. “I want a divorce.”
As I watched Kate sob in the doorway, I couldn’t help but wonder—had I done the right thing? Was it my fault Leonard’s marriage was falling apart?
I still don’t have the answers, but one thing is clear: my gut had been right about Kate all along. But now, I wonder if some truths are better left undiscovered.
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