1 Caught In The Act

The day I found out my wife was cheating, I wasn't prepared. I had not been suspecting for weeks, the s-x wasn't stale (at least not to me) we weren't going through a rough patch, nothing of the sort. That very morning she had come out of the shower and pressed her naked body against me. I had to change my suit, shirt and tie afterwards and I was late for a meeting with my publisher but it was totally worth it. That's why when I walked into my home that afternoon, 3 hours earlier than normal, hoping to continue from where we left off in the morning, I didn't expect to see my wife f-----g someone else on the porch. My porch.

My first instinct was to pick a knife off the kitchen cabinet. I almost did. If I had, I would have killed one or both of them I wasn't sure who I wanted to kill more. The one I loved who had broken my trust or the object of her adulterous desires. Then I saw his face, and the hand reaching to pull out a knife stopped in its tracks.

It wasn't my brother or boss or best friend. It was hers. Her best friend, the guy who had always been there. They were friends before I met her. Friends while we dated. Friends when we got married and she asked me to make him one of my groomsmen. Friends till now. At first I was uncomfortable with how close they were.

She told me he was like a brother to her. Then he got a girlfriend, a hot one, who he eventually married and I never saw him in that light again. Till now of course, in the harsh light of reality. He had always been around it could have been going on for years. If it had, that would make me a fool. I was hurt, betrayed, angry, but I was not a fool. Killing one or both of them right now in a fit of rage would be illogical, foolish. They were still at it on the porch oblivious to me for the half hour I stood in my own kitchen watching my wife betray me. Then I left.

At first, I was unsure what to do. I'm not a gangster or military man, nor did I know any, so getting him killed or beaten to within an inch of his life was out of the question. I am an author. A rather successful one. My last book sold around 3 million copies each in 6 continents, that is how I was able to afford the mansion in Bugolobi with a big compound and tennis court on the grounds-that my stay at home by choice wife had converted to a love nest.

I'm not physically intimidating either. I couldn't beat him up myself. The only tool I had, the only weapon I had was my mind. I drove back to the office. I knew the gateman would report that I had been home. She called just as I walked into my office. She sounded nervous. I told her that I had forgotten my USB drive on the mantelpiece and I had picked it up, used the guest bathroom and returned to the office. That I had called out her name but she didn't respond so I figured she was sleeping and since I wasn't staying long I decided not to disturb. She believed me. She had to.

I sat in my office silently. The

emptiness scared me to death. I had rented the office space in Naguru to handle the business side of the literary world and to have a zone. A place away from home where I could come up with ideas. I needed an idea badly that night. I got a few.

I went home that night, kissed my wife, made love to her and slept like a baby. She was surprised by how energetic the lovemaking was, I told her I had come up with a plot for my new book. I never showed my work till I was done so she didn't press me.....

The next day I went to see my best friend and lawyer. I asked him about divorces and how they affected finances and assets. He walked me through matrimonial actions. Essentially, if I divorced her, my wife would get as much as half to keep her in the lifestyle to which she had become accustomed while married to me.

He asked if everything was ok, I told him it was research for a new book. The protagonist was in a messy divorce and needed to figure out a legal way to leave his wife with nothing. He was intrigued.

He called me the next day. He'd found a way. It was complicated but it could work. The rules only apply to property or funds acquired during marriage. If the protagonist found a way to transfer it all to some trusted third party before the proceedings begun then there would be nothing for the Court to give her. He could always get it back afterwards. I mulled it around in my head for almost a month. I called him and told him what I had come up with. He said I was a bloody genius then made a few changes so it would be perfectly legal. I asked him to draft a sample for me and charge me for the work. He didn't want to till I pointed out that the book might make millions. What are friends for?

By now, our circle of friends was abuzz with the news that a new novel was in the works. Our circle of friends which included my wife's lover and his wife who fortunately for me was a die-hard fan. Whenever we were at an event together, she would ask how the book was coming along, at first I would hedge and refuse to divulge any information then I began to feed her tidbits. Enough to make her look forward to our next meeting.

Six months after I caught my wife shagging her best friend, I bought my wife the new iPhone. It was customary. A new phone here, a new car there, diamonds and pearls every other month. This was different. I had installed Google Latitude on the device and connected it to mine before handing it to her. I now knew everywhere the phone went and she was like a teenager with her phone, she never put it down.

For the next few months, I watched my wife diligently, electronically. Every Wednesday, she spent the afternoon at her lover's house. Convenient. He ran a small web design firm out of his home. His wife was the money in the family.

Some of the time, late on Fridays, she'd drive into odd addresses on the outskirts of Kampala, Mukono and Entebbe predominantly. I had them checked out, Hotels.

The first time I left for the weekend, she stayed home. I told her my story was based in the UK and I needed to be in the vicinity for inspiration. She tried to talk me out of it but drove me to the airport. I waited 15mins after passing airport security then got a Taxi to take me to Sheraton in Kampala. Her phone was in the house all weekend but he could have come over for all I knew. The business class ticket had cost me a lot, the first of many.

I started to 'visit the UK' (my house) every other week. Sometimes I would actually go for a day and take enough pictures for and return to the Sheraton hotel. It wasn't till the 7th weekend that I made my move.....