
Year after year, he promised that we would go, but life always seemed to get in the way—work obligations, family matters, and an endless parade of excuses.
“I’m sorry, Darling,” he would say. “It’s just that something came up at the office, and I have to attend to it.”
But then, when Tom forgot our 10th wedding anniversary, something inside me snapped.
“I have to leave town for the week,” he said while shaving. “It’s for work. We’re prospecting new clients.”
I had hoped that Tom would have told me to pack my bags and get ready to celebrate our romantic milestone—yet, it slipped his mind entirely.
Enough was enough.
I wasn’t about to be a footnote in my own love story.
So, I called my best friend, Jenny.
“We’re going away for my wedding anniversary!” I said as she answered the call.
“What?” she asked, surprised by my words, I could hear her slurping on her usual smoothie.
“Tom would hate that!”
I explained to her that Tom had to be on a business trip and that I was tired of being alone.
“Pack your bags, Jen,” I told her.
I went straight to my closet and began to pack my bags. I needed this. I needed a moment to myself. I got onto my laptop and booked a hotel. This weekend was going to be a weekend to heal, laugh, and forget the sting of neglect.
The hotel Tom had often raved about was our first stop.
As we stepped into the lobby—a place he described right down to the gilded frames on the walls—my heart raced with anticipation and a twinge of sadness.
I was happy to be here with my best friend, sure. But being with Tom would have made it so much better, with memories that would have lasted a lifetime.
“Let’s check-in and leave our bags,” Jenny said. “And then get some fish and chips from that place you’ve been talking about for the past hour.”
And then I heard it.
Tom’s laugh.
I looked up, across the room, and there he was. My husband, standing across the lobby with his arm wrapped around a woman who was decidedly not me.
The scene was like a punch to the gut. There he was, living our dream with someone else.
My first instinct was to storm across the lobby and confront them. But anger gave way to a colder, sharper strategy.
Ten years of marriage for this? This was Tom’s important business trip?
Sure.
I pulled out my phone and started filming them discreetly, capturing their intimate laughs, their shared glances—all the things that should have been mine.
“Are you okay, Eliza?” Jenny asked me, oblivious to the scene I had just witnessed.
“Look,” I said, pointing at Tom.
Jenny clasped her hands to her mouth and gasped.
Feeling emboldened, I approached the reception desk.
“I’m Mrs. Cooper,” I said. “You’ll see my husband checked in as Tom Cooper? It’s our anniversary weekend, and I wanted to surprise my husband.”
The woman behind the counter bought it. She beamed at me and told me there would be complimentary couple massages if I could prove we were married.
And then, she gave me the key to his room.
I went in and filmed everything—their clothes strewn about, the champagne on ice, the unmistakable aura of a romantic getaway.
With Jenny’s encouragement, I took to the streets of Bellport. We showed the footage to anyone willing to watch it.
“What do you think of a man who promises a romantic weekend to his wife and then takes his mistress instead?” I asked the locals.
Jenny filmed all their reactions while I spoke. People were shocked, and hurt on my behalf; some were even empathetic.
And as I met more people, it turned out that people didn’t just disapprove of Tom—they shared their stories of betrayal, connecting with my own pain.
Jenny and I went back to our room and ordered room service while she whizzed away on her laptop, turning our footage into a short film.
Forgotten Promises: A Bellport Betrayal.
Then, we uploaded it online—tagging Tom on Facebook.
It went viral overnight. And as the support began to pour in, so did the outrage towards Tom.
When Tom saw the video, he called me, furious.
“Eliza!” he barked. “Take it down! This isn’t fair!”
“It’s too late, Tom,” I replied coolly. “It’s out there now, and it’s the truth.”
Tom went on, airing his grievances through the phone.
“Why doesn’t he just come and find you?” Jenny asked. “We’re in the same hotel.”
I didn’t understand that either. But Tom seemed perfectly fine spending time with his mistress. I knew she was there with him—probably comforting him while he was distressed by my actions.
“I don’t know,” I replied to Jenny.
I cut the call, and Jenny and I took to the streets, ready to eat our feelings away in ice cream.
As we were walking, out of the blue, a travel company reached out to me. They had seen our short film and offered me a job in creating “Truthful Travelogues.”
“You’ll just have to do exactly what you did for your short film,” a woman named Natasha told me. “We’ll send you a laptop so that you can edit on there, too.”
Suddenly, I was more than just another scorned wife who had to suffer in silence and wait to be acknowledged by her husband. Now, I was a storyteller, weaving narratives of authenticity in beautiful locales.
And on the other hand—Tom’s life began to crumble. His professional image soured as colleagues and clients questioned his integrity.
That trip he took to Bellport, meant to be hidden away like a secret, became his public undoing.
His car was even egged by some of the kids who lived on our street—something that he deserved.
Shortly after I returned home, I packed all my belongings and moved in with Jenny. She was single and my constant support—there was nobody else I wanted to reinvent myself with.
Looking back, the trip to Bellport was nothing like I had imagined it would be. Initially, I had wanted it to be a romantic escape with my husband, but then it had turned into a girls’ weekend.
Only for it to become an unraveling of my marriage.
Even now, I’m not completely sure that my actions were the greatest, but at the same time—I needed to do it. I needed to expose Tom for the liar that he was.
And in the end, I needed to empower myself again. I couldn’t keep living in the shadow of Tom’s job and deceit.
Now, I have to try and rebuild my life as a newly single woman ready to get what she deserves.
What would you have done?
Dolores Catania mentioned that she needs to start using Ozempic again because she thinks she’s gained about 20 pounds over the summer. She said she’s going to get back on it quickly.
Dolores Catania is about to get her next Ozempic dose. She told Page Six at the MTV Video Music Awards that she’s taking her shot the next day and mentioned she’s overdue for it but hasn’t stopped using it.


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Dolores Catania, 53, said she gained a few pounds this summer because of her travels. She visited South Africa for conservation work and Lisbon, Portugal for fun.
She mentioned that she’s probably 20 pounds heavier now and needs to start using Ozempic again right away.

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Dolores Catania supports her decision to use Ozempic for weight loss, saying that many celebrities do the same, whether openly or privately.
She feels good using it and mentioned that she’s researched it thoroughly and spoken to many doctors, none of whom have said it’s bad for her. She also shared that her boyfriend, Paul Connell, has had great results with Ozempic. He lost 50 pounds and no longer needs blood pressure medication.

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Dolores Catania was one of the first celebrities to openly say she uses Ozempic for weight loss, but she told Page Six in April 2023 that she does it for medical reasons.
She explained that she’s dealing with menopause, thyroid issues, and inflammation, which make it hard for her to lose weight. Despite working out and eating well, she was still gaining weight due to these issues.
While Catania has had good results with Ozempic, some people have warned about possible side effects.

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Sharon Osbourne has said she’s lost too much weight from using Ozempic and now struggles to gain weight back.
Recently, Lottie Moss, Kate Moss’s younger sister, had to go to the hospital after getting very dehydrated and having a seizure because she took too much of the drug.
A recent study also found that Ozempic has been connected to 162 deaths in the US.
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