“Get to the kitchen, now!” the man barked at his wife. Little did he know how this would end.
“Katie, have you seen my navy tie?” came his voice from the bedroom where David was getting ready for work.
Katherine stood by the stove, stirring porridge. Seven years of marriage, and every morning was the same. He rushed off to the office chasing money and success; she juggled the stove, saucepans, and washing machine.
“Check the second shelf in the wardrobe!” she called back.
“Nothing there! Katie, are you sure?”
She sighed, wiped her hands, and headed to the bedroom. In the pocket of his jacket from yesterday, her fingers brushed against something colda key. An ordinary flat key, but not one she recognised.
“David, wheres this from?” she asked, holding it out.
For a split second, surprise flickered across his face. Then he snapped back, shouting, “Get back to the kitchen! Stop rummaging through my things! Its a work keyfor the storage room.”
He had no idea what was coming.
Over breakfast, David tapped away at his phone, smilingeven chuckling once or twice.
“Whos messaging you?” Katherine asked carefully.
“Colleagues. Discussing a project,” he muttered, eyes glued to the screen.
But shed glimpsed the screenno documents, just hearts and emojis.
“Ill be late tonight. A presentation, then dinner with clients. Dont wait up.”
“Dinner on a Saturday?”
“Business doesnt stop for weekends, love.”
He pecked her cheek and left, the scent of expensive cologne lingering behind.
Katherine cleared the table, sipping cold coffee. Seven years ago, shed graduated with honours in economics, worked at a bank, built a career. But after the wedding
“Why bother with work?” David had insisted. “Ill take care of everything. Focus on home. Well have kids soon”
Years passed. No children. Instead, she knew every supermarket cashier by face and every soap opera plot by heart.
But this morning, something inside her shifted. A strangers key. Flirty texts. New cologne. “Work meetings” on weekends.
She opened her laptop and searched: “Horizon Business Centre vacancies.” Thats where David worked, on the seventh floor, at Progress Ltd.
A few clicks laterthere it was. “Clean Office Ltd” needed evening cleaners for Horizon. Perfect. Staff left; cleaners arrived. But some stayed late
She dialled the number. “Hello, Im calling about the cleaner position at Horizon”
The next day, Katherine sat across from Nina, the supervisor.
“Any experience?”
“Seven years at home. Daily.”
“Why Horizon? Weve got sites closer.”
“The hours suit me. And Im divorcing. Evenings, my ex has our child. I need the work.”
Nina gave a sympathetic nod. “Understood. Youre in. What name should I put?”
“Valerie Peterson,” Katherine replied without hesitation.
Three days later, Katherine Davies became Valerie Petersonthe new cleaner at Horizon. She got a uniform, supplies, and brief instructions:
“Stay invisible. No chatting, no lingering. Quick, quiet, thorough. Your floorseventh. IT firm Progress Ltd. Note the office with D.A. Davies on the door.”
“Could I take the seventh? Heard its light. Im still learning.”
“Fine. One girl quitsaid it was tough. Manage your time.”
That evening, Katherine stood outside Davids office, mop in hand. Dark outside, past eight. Work hours over, but voices murmured inside.
Her plan was working.
Two weeks as a cleaner revealed everything. His “late nights” had nothing to do with work. He wasnt chasing projectshe was chasing Alice Kramer, a young marketer from his team.
The key in his pocket didnt open a storage room. It opened Alices flat in a new-build.
“Dave, Im tired of hiding,” Alice whined one evening as Katherine mopped nearby. “When do we go public?”
“Soon, love,” David whispered. “Lawyers say we must do this right. Rush it, and I lose half the flat.”
Katherine clenched her teeth. Not just a cheata schemer, leaving her with nothing.
Worse came days earlier. Her mop knocked over a stack of papers. Gathering them, she spotted odd margin notes. Her old skills kicked inthese werent just reports. They were internal financial data.
A work phone lay nearby. A message flashed from “Irene S.”
The office was empty. She opened the chat.
“Dave, need the Northern report. Usual payment.”
“Irene, new price. Full package£50k.”
“Fine. Fast. Presentations Tuesday.”
Katherines hands went cold. Irene Somersdeputy director at Vector, their biggest rival. Her husband was selling company secrets
She photographed everything. At home, the truth sank in. The damage ran into hundreds of thousands.
“How was work?” she asked that night, serving dinner.
“Steady. Big new projecthuge potential,” David mumbled, glued to his phone.
“Potential”the one youve already sold, she thought.
At first, she planned to hand evidence to management and file for divorce. Then she reconsidered. He deserved a public fall.
Progress Ltds quarterly party was coming. David prepped for weeksnew suit, speech, practised smile.
“Dave, whatll you tell them about me?” Alice asked the day before.
“Nothing. Soon were togetherno more secrets.”
“What if your wife shows?”
“She wont. Too shy for these things. Not her crowd.”
Katherine smirked. Hed no idea his “shy” wife had been there all alongwatching.
On the day, she arrived as usual. But her bag held a sleek black dress, not a uniform. And a folder of proof.
At 7 p.m., as glasses clinked in the conference room, she changed in the staff loo. Touched up her makeup, smoothed her hair.
Through the glass, she saw David in his new suit, laughing with Alice. Beside them, CEO Paul Richardson held a mic.
Perfect timing.
“Excuse me, a moment?” Katherine said, stepping in.
Conversations died. David spun around, eyes wide.
“Im Katherine Davies. His wife,” she announced. “For two weeks, Ive worked here as Valerie Petersona cleaner.”
“What are you doing?!” he hissed, storming toward her.
“Gathering evidence, darling. Of your cheating and more.” Her voice was calm, clear.
Silence stretched like a wire.
“Paul,” she turned to the CEO, “your employees been selling confidential data to Vector. Heres his messages with Irene Somers.”
She handed over printouts.
“Lies! Shes bitter over our affair!” David shouted.
“Bank transfers. Photos of documents from his officeall documented,” she added evenly.
Pauls face darkened as he scanned the pages.
“One more thing.” She pulled another folder. “Security footage. His office wasnt just for work.”
When the screen showed Alice kissing David, she shrieked and fled.
“David Davies, youre fired,” Paul declared. “And facing legal action. Security!”
As guards led David out, silence fell. Paul approached Katherine.
“Thank you. Weve hunted this leak for months.”
“I just wanted to know who my husband really was. Got more than I bargained for.”
“You studied economics?”
“Yes, but havent worked in years.”
Paul studied her. “Weve an openingSecurity Analyst. Someone who sees what others miss. Interested?”
Katherine smiled faintly. “Gladly.”
A month later, her life transformed. She was Progress Ltds new security specialist, earning triple Davids old salary.
He vanished from her world. After the scandal, agencies blacklisted him.
In court, Katherine stood tall. David, slumped in a wrinkled shirt, sat silent. Alice had ghosted him post-scandal.
“Per the settlement,” the judge read, “the marital home splits equally. Marriage dissolved.”
Two months on, Katherine celebrated her new flata cosy two-bed in a nice area, bought after selling her share.
Work thrilled her. She designed a cyber-security system that foiled industrial espionage attempts.
Six months in, new IT director Andrew Walker joineddivorced, raising a school-aged son. They often collaborated. He treated her with respect.
“Katie, any good schools nearby for my lad?” he asked once.
“Sure. Ill show you after workwe can walk?”
Friendship bloomedhonest, warm, no pressure. Both knew pain. Both valued support.
A year passed. One evening, Katherine spotted David by the tube station. He was washing cars. Thin, hunched, in faded clothes.
“Katie How are you?” he mumbled.
“Good. You?”
“Struggling. Everything
