The Trap is Sprung
… IT EXPLODE PINK INK EVERYWHERE?!”
I couldn’t help the slow, wicked smile that spread across my freshly painted lips. I leaned against the kitchen counter, admiring my flawless manicure, and took a deep breath before answering.
“I didn’t make it do anything, Max,” I replied smoothly. “I just ordered the premium karma package online. Does it clash with your tie?”
The detail Max didn’t know was simple: I knew everything.
For the past six months, my husband had been carrying on a secret affair with the bride-to-be, my “old college friend,” Elise. I had uncovered their disgusting little secret weeks ago after finding a string of deleted emails on our shared iPad.
The original plan was brilliant in its simplicity. The beautifully wrapped “wedding gift” sitting on the entryway table wasn’t a set of crystal champagne flutes. It was a bound portfolio containing every single screenshot, hotel receipt, and text message between the two of them. My goal had been to slip it quietly onto the gift table, knowing the groom, a notoriously thorough accountant, would open it the next morning.
But Max had always been paranoid.
When Elise inevitably panicked and called him this morning—likely realizing I had RSVP’d ‘Yes’ while he declined—Max must have put two and two together. He assumed the giant silver box on the table was the smoking gun. He rushed out, stole my car to beat me to the venue, and clearly tried to rip open the box on the highway to destroy the evidence.
What Max didn’t know was that I had anticipated his cowardice.
The Decoy
The box he stole was a decoy. I had purchased a high-grade, spring-loaded glitter and dye bomb designed for package thieves. The real evidence had already been delivered to the groom’s suite via a certified overnight courier, marked “Urgent: Open Before Vows.”
“My suit is ruined! The leather seats are ruined! I look like a radioactive flamingo!” Max shrieked through the speakerphone, the sound of honking cars echoing in the background. “Elise is going to kill me! I have to get to the church to stop her from opening the real gift!”
“Oh, honey,” I cooed, dropping my voice to a whisper. “You’re far too late for that. The groom received his package at 10:00 AM. And knowing David, he’s probably reading his bride’s texts to the entire wedding party right about now.”
Dead silence hung on the line, save for the ragged sound of Max’s breathing.
“As for the car,” I continued cheerfully, “it’s under my name, but I’ll be billing you for the detailing. Or the replacement. Whichever costs more. The kids and I are going to get pizza. Have a beautiful wedding, Max.”
I hung up, blocked his number, and turned to the stairs.
“Kids!” I called out, my mood lighter than it had been in months. “Change of plans! Grab your coats, we’re going to the arcade!”
