He thought I was a loose, immoral woman, but I had long seen through his secret, hidden for twenty years in a wooden crate. When the Coast Guard broke open the crate, what was exposed was not an Adulterer, but an entire undercover operation. Flirtatious text messages were codes, sleep talk signals. When the fishing village called me a shameless hussy, headquarters called: mission completed, congratulations on returning to the team.
