Natalie’s upscale penthouse was solely in her name. She handed her husband a housekeeper’s key fob, which he never passed on—yet someone unlocked their door seventeen times. Suspicious, she hid a camera and spied remotely from afar. She witnessed a strange woman sneaking in, drinking her wine, wearing her clothes, and ridiculing her coldly. Silent and calm, she gathered every damning clip. At her lavish birthday party, before all his acquaintances, she broadcast the footage publicly. She didn’t merely expose his affair—she masterfully orchestrated his crushing ruin.