But the worst part — they weren’t just photos.

Below each album were comments. Men discussing my body. Writing what else they wanted to see. Offering money for videos. I wanted to scream, but a suffocated sob stuck in my throat.

Then my eyes fell on another tab. I didn’t want to open it. But I did. There were other women. The same kind of photos. The same conversations.

My husband was part of a network. He had done this to multiple women. And he was making enormous amounts of money from it.