We had been married 10 years when I discovered my beautiful wife was a spy. The broken seal of tape I’d put across the locked cabinet door had given her away. She hadn’t discovered the package yet, but that’s only because I kept moving it around. I knew I had to get it safely out of the house. All would be lost if she found it.
First, I hid the Violette Fluorite Necklace inside my tackle box. Then I tucked it away in the bookshelf behind all six volumes of "The Complete History of Detroit Muscle Cars." Finally, it rested underneath the Cohibas in my humidor. All of my sneaking around was exhausting. Then I had a brilliant idea that changed everything.
"Darling, we need to talk," I said. "I know what you’ve been looking for, but it’s time that I finally revealed my secret." Out came the necklace. Her expression was worth all the undercover effort.
She loved it and wondered how I’d kept it secret for so long. "A master spy never reveals his methods," I told her. "Happy Anniversary." Mission accomplished. But I knew I’d have to stay one step ahead if I was going to surprise her again next year.