Smells Like Betrayal: Exposing My Wife and Her Rich Lover

My wife, Chloe, had another man's scent on her.

It wasn’t sweat, and it certainly wasn’t alcohol or cigarettes. It was a bold, aggressive woody fragrance.

Expensive, sophisticated, with an underlying, seductive warmth.

I don't wear cologne.

As an interior designer who spends his days surrounded by drywall dust and paint fumes, I usually smell like sweat and construction materials.

To me, cologne is an unnecessary luxury.

My wife never used it either.

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"You're back?"

Chloe walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a plush bath towel. Water droplets slid down the smooth curve of her calf.