Jack never took sick days — not even when his mother passed away. So when he stayed home one morning claiming to be ill, I knew something was wrong. But nothing prepared me for what awaited me on our front porch: a life-sized statue of Jack, eerily pale and flawless like porcelain.
Pale and visibly shaken, Jack dragged the statue inside without saying a word. Later, our son Noah handed me a chilling note he’d found tucked beneath the sculpture. It was from a woman named Sally:
“I’m returning the statue I made, believing you loved me. You owe me $10,000… or your wife sees every message.”
I dropped the kids off at school, then broke down in tears in a parking lot. Desperate, I called the first female divorce attorney I could find. In her office, I showed her the note.
“This woman sculpted my husband,” I whispered. “And now she’s blackmailing him.”