The Betrayed Wife's Billion-Dollar Revenge

After his first affair, Adam James developed a sudden, violent case of mysophobia. He took no fewer than eight showers a day.

By the ninth, he would scrub until his skin turned raw and bright red, nearly flaying himself alive.

I had rushed over then, wrapping my arms around him.

"Stop washing," I pleaded. "I forgive you. Isn't that enough?"

Adam dropped the showerhead and fell to his knees. He slapped his own face, over and over, the sound echoing off the tiles.

"I'm a fucking bastard," he sobbed. "I've wronged you, Layla."

Tonight, Adam took me to a banquet hosted by a business partner.