Behind the Reward

One night, I rolled over in bed and caught Karl watching a livestream on his phone, earbuds in.

On the screen, a woman was playfully wagging a fake furry tail attached to her butt. Karl didn't think twice before dropping five "spaceship" gifts, each worth 1,314 dollars.

***

He was glued to his phone, so he didn't even notice I was awake.

I turned back around and went to sleep. The next morning, while he was in the bathroom, I picked up his charging phone.

I knew his password. It was his birthday.

I opened up that livestream app and checked his spending. Since early last year, he had blown nearly 400,000 dollars on it. Started with a few hundred here and there, then it snowballed into thousands. His spending was completely off the rails.

I even found out the Hermès bag Karl gave me for my last birthday was a knockoff. He only spent 29.9 dollars on it.

And the Legos he bought for our kids? Fakes.

When a cousin's kid called out the fake Legos, our kids got all worked up, defending Karl, convinced he could do no wrong.

I would never forget how angry they looked. They wouldn't let anyone badmouth their dad.

I had always trusted Karl, too.

His top contributions went to three streamers: Lonely Bunny, Divorced Hottie, and College Sweetheart.

He was the second highest spender on Lonely Bunny and even changed his username to Crazy for Bunny.

Karl dropped the most cash on Lonely Bunny, about 250,000 dollars. She had the biggest following. The other two were just part-timers.

Just last night, he had blown nearly 10,000 dollars, leaving his account with just 23 cents.

Lately, Karl had been coming up with all kinds of excuses to spend money: a scratch on the car, his boss' wedding, visiting sick colleagues. You name it, he used it.

Money poured out like water. It all went to these cam girls.

I'd learned that when you caught a man lying, it was never just about one thing.

I scrolled through Karl's WhatsApp, took a deep breath, and switched accounts. Bingo. The jerk had a second account.

I skimmed through the account, shocked to my core.

There weren't many contacts, but there were the three cam girls. He'd labeled them "Darling No.1," "Darling No.2," and "Darling No.3."

Each time Karl hit a spending threshold, one of them would send him some racy photos and videos.

From his chats with Lonely Bunny, I could tell he was desperate to meet her face to face.

Lonely Bunny: [I wanna see you too, babe. But my agency's got rules. I can only meet the top donor each quarter.]

Karl replied: [Then wait for me. I'll be your top donor one day, babe.]

Karl was in a group chat called "Car Talk" with his cronies. I'd even shared meals with some of them.

Their chats were just perving on women and bitching about their wives.

Karl called me "maid" in those chats.

Just hours ago, he was complaining about me: [I'm tired of the maid at home. She's always sour-faced and dresses like a nun.]

[I work my ass off all day, and she can't even cheer me up when I get home.]

He even posted a GIF with my face slapped on a dog wagging its tail.

The whole group was piling on. Their comments were so disgusting.

Karl's last message in the group was: [Guys, I'm flat broke. What the fuck do I do? My ladies are counting on me. The maid is so tight-fisted. I'm worried she'll start getting suspicious if I keep this up.]

The water stopped running in the bathroom. I knew Karl was about done and would be out any second.

Just at this moment, new news came.

Just then, Tucker popped up in the group chat: [I've got a way for you to make some quick cash. Your maid is kinda hot. Take some racy photos and videos of her, and I'll buy them. Or you could use her pics to take out some loans. Making money both ways, huh.] He added a smirking emoji.

I froze for a second. Tucker Watson was Karl's buddy. We'd had dinner together tons of times. He always played nice, even tutored my kids last winter break.

Now, I wondered if Karl would sink low enough to follow Tucker's sleazy advice.

I switched back to his main account and cleared my tracks.

Karl walked out, glanced at me, and mumbled, "Morning, babe."

Then he plunked down on the bed, face glued to his phone like he'd just ticked a box.

I clasped my shaking hands and went to the kitchen.

While the waffles were baking, I leaned against the wall, my mind going blank.

Suddenly, my daughter Rosalie came over, gently pulled my hands apart, and asked, "Mom, you seem upset. What's up?"

I shook my head, bent down, and ruffled her hair. "All good, sweetie. You've got finals today. Knock 'em dead, okay?"

Shawn chimed in from the side, "I need some cheering on too, Mom."

I laughed and ruffled his hair, "You got it, champ."

The kids ran off, happy as clams. They were the twins, about to finish elementary school.

At breakfast, we all seemed like the picture of happiness.

Karl had the kids in stitches with his jokes.

I asked Karl, "How's the oatmeal?"

He frowned but finished his bowl. "It's good."

What he didn't know was that I'd slipped a few drops of dish soap into it.

He grabbed his briefcase and pumped his fist at the door with a grin. "Let's crush it, honey. Here's to our happier tomorrow."

Watching him leave, I couldn't help thinking, "Man, he's a good actor."

I was not sure if tomorrow would be any happier, but I knew it wouldn't be with him around.