One evening, I came home to find our babysitter, Jenna, stepping out of the bathroom with wet hair. She apologized, explaining there’d been a milk spill and she’d showered while the kids napped. It struck me as odd, but I brushed it off.
Moments later, my husband, Mark, appeared unexpectedly. He claimed he’d come home early from work. I felt a twinge of unease—his story didn’t quite add up—but I said nothing.
The next day, my instincts wouldn’t let it go. I reviewed the nanny cam footage. It showed Mark returning home shortly after I’d left for work, chatting casually with Jenna. My heart sank.
