My Boyfriend Slept With Every Woman I Trusted—Until I Introduced Him to the One Friend Who Carried a Secret That Would Change His Life – Part 2

“Madison,” she said softly. “Hey,” I replied, trying to figure out if I should just turn around and leave. “Can we talk just for a minute?” I looked at the guy she was with. He smiled and said, “I’ll wait in the car.” before kissing her cheek and walking away. Seemed like a nice guy. Jessica and I stood there in the freezer aisle and I waited for her to speak.

“I know you probably hate me,” she started. “And you have every right to, but I need you to know that I wasn’t lying.” “Derek did sleep with me and I know that doesn’t make it okay. I still made the choice to do it, but he’s not who you think he is, Madison. He told me you guys were on a break. He said you’d been fighting constantly and were basically over.

We weren’t on a break,” I said quietly. “I know that now.” After you cut me off, I felt terrible. I tried to reach out to Dererick to figure out how to fix things and he told me to leave him alone and stop trying to break you two up. That’s when I realized he’d played me. He’d played both of us. I felt tears building up but refused to let them fall in the middle of a Safeway.

Has he done it to anyone else? Jessica asked. Since me? I nodded. At least one other that I know of. Probably more. Jessica looked at me with this mix of pity and frustration. Madison, you need to leave him. He’s never going to change. Guys like that don’t change. I know, I whispered. And I did know. But knowing and doing are two different things.

We exchanged numbers again before parting ways. She made me promise to call her if I ever needed anything. I didn’t plan on calling her, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d said about Dererick lying to her, telling her we were on a break. Had he told Amber the same thing? Had he told all of them the same thing? I started paying attention to Dererick’s phone.

Not in an obvious way, but just noticing things. How he’d tilted away from me when texting. How he’d suddenly get up and leave the room to take certain calls. How he’d started using a passcode that I didn’t know. One night in March, he fell asleep on my couch after we’d been drinking wine and watching movies.

His phone was on the coffee table and I grabbed it before I could talk myself out of it. I didn’t know his passcode, but I tried a few obvious ones. His birthday, my birthday, nothing. Then I tried the date we started dating and it unlocked. My hands were shaking as I opened his messages.

There were so many, so so many girls from his work, girls from his gym, random girls from dating apps. Yeah, he was still on dating apps. But what made me feel physically ill was seeing names I recognized. Riley, Brooklyn, Kayla, all of them. He’d slept with all of them. And there were messages with someone named Haley that were recent. like from that day.

They were planning to meet up that weekend while I was supposed to be at a work conference in Seattle. I took screenshots of everything and sent them to my own phone. Then I put his phone back exactly where it was and went to my bedroom. I didn’t sleep that night. I just lay there staring at the ceiling, feeling like my entire life had been a lie.

The next morning, Dererick left for work like nothing was wrong. He kissed me goodbye and told me he’d miss me while I was in Seattle. I smiled and said I’d miss him, too. But I wasn’t going to Seattle. I’d never planned to go to Seattle. I’d made up the conference to test him, to see if he’d make plans with someone else. and he had. I called in sick to work.

Then I called Jessica. “I need your help,” I said when she answered. “We met at a coffee shop an hour later.” I showed her the screenshots. I told her everything, and I finally finally admitted that I needed to leave him. I’ll help you however I can, Jessica said. Do you want me to come with you when you get your stuff from his place? Eventually, I said, “But first, I want to make sure he can’t do this to anyone else.

” Jessica raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” Here’s where the story takes a turn. I didn’t just want to break up with Dererick and move on. I wanted him to face consequences. I wanted him to understand that actions have repercussions and I wanted to protect other women from going through what I’d been through.

I’m going to ruin him, I said simply. Jessica looked concerned. Madison, I get that you’re angry, but not like that, I interrupted. I’m not going to do anything illegal or crazy. I’m just going to make sure everyone knows who he really is. I started with social media. I created a post detailing everything, the cheating, the lying, the manipulation.

I didn’t name names of the other women to protect them, but I was very clear about Dererick’s behavior. I tagged him in it and posted it to my Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. Within an hour, the post had been shared hundreds of times. Women I didn’t even know were commenting with their own stories about Derek. Apparently, I wasn’t his first long-term girlfriend he cheated on.

There was an ex from college who’d gone through something similar. Another ex from his early 20s. The post went viral in our local community. Dererick’s phone was blowing up. He called me 17 times in a row. I didn’t answer. Then I emailed his boss at the tech company where he worked. I didn’t say anything inflammatory. I just shared that Dererick had been using company resources and time to meet women from dating apps and conduct affairs and included screenshots showing him messaging women during work hours from his work computer. Yes, he’d been dumb

enough to mention that in texts. His company had a pretty strict policy about personal conduct, especially anything that could be considered harassment or inappropriate workplace behavior. They launched an investigation, but I wasn’t done. I reached out to every single woman whose name I’d found in his phone.

I sent them all the screenshots showing that he’d been talking to multiple women at once, lying to all of them. Some didn’t respond, some thanked me. A few told me their own horror stories about him. One of them was Haley, the girl he was supposed to meet up with that weekend. She’d had no idea he had a girlfriend.

When I told her, she was furious at him, not me. She said he’d been telling her for months that he was single and looking for something serious. Haley and I actually became friends after that. She was cool. Worked in marketing like me. We got coffee a few times and bonded over what a disaster Derrick was. But Dererick didn’t go down quietly.

He made his own social media posts, calling me a crazy ex-girlfriend who was obsessed and spreading lies. He tried to turn mutual acquaintances against me. He showed up at my apartment multiple times, begging me to take him down, saying I was ruining his life. “You ruined your own life,” I told him through my locked door. “He left, threatening voicemails.

He tried to get me fired from my job by calling my boss and saying I was harassing him. Thankfully, my boss was a woman who’d heard similar stories before and didn’t buy his act. Eventually, Dererick’s company put him on administrative leave while they investigated. His social life was destroyed.

All our mutual friends had taken my side once they saw the evidence. And word had spread enough in Portland’s tech scene that he was basically blacklisted from the industry. He ended up moving back to Los Angeles to stay with his parents and start over. I heard through the grapevine that he’d gotten a job at some startup down there. I thought that was the end of it.

I thought I’d gotten my revenge, exposed him for who he was, and could finally move on with my life. But then about 3 months after Dererick left Portland, I got a message from a number I didn’t recognize. Hi Madison, my name is Christina. I know this is going to sound weird, but I’m Dererick’s new girlfriend. I live in LA.

I found your social media posts about him, and I need to know, is everything you said true? My heart sank. He was doing it again already. I called Christina immediately. We talked for over 2 hours. I sent her all the screenshots I still had saved. I told her everything. She cried. She thanked me.

She said she’d been dating him for 6 weeks and already had a weird feeling something was off. Christina broke up with him that day and she did something I hadn’t even thought to do. She created a whole website about him. She called it, “Is Derek Morrison your boyfriend?” A warning. The website detailed Dererick’s pattern of behavior, included testimonials from me and several other women, and came up as the first result when you Googled his name.

It was brutal. It was perfect. Christina and I became long-distance friends after that. She was fierce in a way I wished I’d been earlier. She made sure Dererick couldn’t easily victimize anyone else. Or so we thought, because 6 months later, I got another message. This time from a girl named Nicole in Denver.

Dererick had moved to Colorado and was up to his old tricks. Nicole had found the website before getting too involved with him. But she had a friend, Madison. Yes, another Madison, which was weird, who’d already slept with him and was now ghosting her. This pattern continued. Every few months, I’d hear from a new woman in a new city.

Dererick kept moving, kept starting over, kept finding new victims. The website helped, but it couldn’t stop everyone. Some women didn’t think to Google him. Some didn’t believe the warnings. Some thought they’d be different, that they could change him. It was exhausting and depressing. I’d exposed him, ruined his reputation, done everything I could think of, and he was still out there hurting people.

That’s when I started to feel like maybe revenge wasn’t as satisfying as I’d hoped. Sure, I’d gotten him fired and run out of Portland, but so what? He’d just moved and started over. He was like a cockroach, impossible to fully get rid of. I went to therapy. I talked about Derek, about my own choices in staying with him, about the revenge and whether it had really helped.

My therapist helped me understand that I’d been looking for external validation and justice when what I really needed was to heal internally and forgive myself. It helped. I started to feel better. I dated a little bit, though nothing serious. I reconnected with old friends, including Jessica, who’d been incredibly supportive through everything.

I got a promotion at work. Life was actually pretty good. Then about a year after Dererick had left Portland, I met Vanessa at a party. Vanessa was loud, funny, and completely unapologetic about who she was. She worked as a bartender at a club downtown and had the best stories. We hit it off immediately and made plans to hang out the following week.

Over drinks, we got on the topic of terrible ex-boyfriends. I told her about Derek. She listened intently, asked questions, and then said something that caught me off guard. Want to know something crazy? I think I might have given your ex an STD. I nearly spit out my drink. What? She laughed. Okay, so I have this theory that Dererick and I hooked up about two years ago.

You said he’s tall, works in tech, has a tattoo of a compass on his shoulder. Oh my god, that’s him. Yeah, we matched on Tinder and hooked up a few times. He told me he was single. Then one day, he just ghosted me. But here’s the kicker. I found out a few weeks later that I had gorrhea.

I texted him to let him know he should get tested and he blocked me. He gave you gorrhea. I was stunned or I gave it to him. Either way, one of us was patient zero in that situation. I got treated obviously, but I have no idea if he ever did. For all I know, he’s out there spreading it around. And that’s when the idea hit me. The actual revenge that would mean something.

Vanessa, I said slowly. Do you still have gorrhea? She laughed. What? No. I got that cleared up like 2 years ago. Why? Damn, I said mostly to myself. Why would you? Oh my god. Vanessa’s eyes went wide. Madison, are you thinking what I think you’re thinking? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I said innocently.

You want to give Derek an STD as revenge? I would never do that, I said. But my mind was racing. Could I? Should I? Was that completely insane? That’s so messed up, Vanessa said. But she was grinning. Also kind of genius. also completely crazy. Also, I kind of love it. It’s just a thought. I said, I’m not actually going to do anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Here’s the thing. I’m not a vengeful person by nature. The social media posts and the email to his work had felt justified because I was just telling the truth. But actively giving someone an STD, that was different. That was potentially illegal. That was definitely unethical, but it would also be poetic justice, wouldn’t it? Dererick had been spreading emotional disease for years, infecting women’s lives with his lies and manipulation.

Maybe he deserved to deal with an actual infection for once. I told myself I wasn’t going to do anything. I went home that night and tried to forget about the conversation, but then I got another message, this time from a girl named Emma in Austin, Texas. Dererick had moved again. Emma had found the website, but too late. He’d already cheated on her with three different women and given her chlamyia.

I had to call my previous partners and tell them to get tested. Emma wrote, “It was humiliating, and Dererick won’t even respond to my messages. I don’t know if he got treated or if he’s out there giving it to other people.” That’s when I snapped. I called Vanessa. Do you know anyone who currently has gorrhea? She was quiet for a second.

Then, “Are you serious right now?” “Dead serious, Madison, I cannot be an accessory to whatever you’re planning.” “You’re right. Forget I asked.” Another pause then. But hypothetically, if I did know someone, what would you want me to do? Introduce her to Derek. Let nature take its course. Vanessa sighed deeply. You know this is crazy, right? Like absolutely batshit crazy. I know.

And probably illegal, probably. And definitely makes you as bad as him. That gave me pause. Was I as bad as Dererick if I did this? Was I stooping to his level? Or was this just karma finally catching up to him? Maybe I admitted, but I don’t care anymore. He’s out there hurting people. Vanessa, he gave Emma chlamyia and didn’t even tell her.

He’s a walking biohazard. Someone needs to stop him. And that someone is you? Self-appointed STD vigilante. When you say it like that, it sounds bad. Vanessa laughed despite herself. Because it is bad, Madison. Look, I get it. I really do. But this isn’t going to make you feel better. Trust me, she was probably right.

But I was beyond rational thought at this point. I’d spent 2 years of my life with Derek. I’d lost friends. I’d lost time. I’d lost part of myself to his manipulation. and he was still out there doing the same things to other women, facing no real consequences. Just think about it, I said to Vanessa. That’s all I’m asking. You’re insane, she said. But she didn’t say no.

We hung up and I sat with my thoughts for a long time. Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to cross this line? The answer I decided was no. It was too far, too risky, too wrong. But then 2 weeks later, Vanessa called me. Okay, so don’t get mad. She started. That’s never a good way to start a conversation.

I said, “I have a friend. Well, a friend of a friend. Her name is Tiffany and she might have gorrhea currently, like right now. My heart started racing. Vanessa, listen, before you get all excited, she’s going to get treated. She just found out a few days ago and has a doctor’s appointment next week. But I mentioned your situation, not any details, just that you had a toxic ex.

And she said something interesting. What did she say? She said her ex gave her gorrhea and then ghosted her when she tried to tell him. And she’s been thinking about how unfair it is that guys like that face no consequences. So I told her hypothetically, what if there was a way to make a guy like your ex face consequences? Vanessa, what did you do? Nothing. I just planted a seed.

Tiffany’s the one who said she’d be interested in meeting your ex before getting treated. You know, karma and all that. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. So, you’re saying this girl, Tiffany, would be willing to knowingly sleep with Derek while she has gorrhea? I’m saying she’s open to a conversation. But Madison, you need to think really carefully about this.

Once you cross this line, you can’t uncross it. She was right. This was a point of no return. If I went through with this, I was no longer the victim. I was the villain or maybe the anti-hero. I honestly didn’t know anymore. Let me meet her, I said. I just want to talk to her. Vanessa set up a meeting for that weekend.

The three of us met at a quiet bar on the east side of town. Tiffany was not what I expected. She was a school teacher in her early 30s, dressed conservatively with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. She looked like someone who’d never done anything morally questionable in her life. So, Vanessa tells me you have a toxic ex who needs to be taught a lesson.

Tiffany said after we’d ordered drinks, I gave her the full story. Everything. The cheating, the lying, the manipulation, the STD he’d given Emma. When I finished, Tiffany nodded slowly. My ex gave me gorrhea and then blocked my number, she said quietly. I felt so violated, not just physically, but emotionally. He knew he had it and didn’t tell me.

I had to call my sister and tell her to get tested because we’d shared drinks a few times. It was mortifying. I’m so sorry, I said sincerely. The thing is, Tiffany continued. I’m not a vengeful person. I teach second grade. I believe in kindness and forgiveness and all that, but some people don’t deserve forgiveness.

Some people deserve to understand what it feels like to be on the receiving end of their own cruelty. So, you’d really do this? I asked. You’d really sleep with Derek before I get treated? Yeah, I think I would. Not because I want to hurt him necessarily, but because he should know what it’s like. He should have to deal with the doctor’s appointments, the antibiotics, the embarrassment of calling past partners.

He should face at least one real consequence for his actions. It felt surreal to be sitting there plotting this, like I was in a movie or a fever dream. But it was real and it was happening, and I had to decide if I was really going to go through with it. “Okay,” I said, “Finally, let’s do it.” The plan was simple. I still had access to Dererick’s social media.

He’d never blocked me because he thought I’d moved on. I could see that he was back in Portland for work, staying for a few weeks. He’d posted about it on his Instagram. Vanessa created a fake Tinder profile for Tiffany using photos that were flattering but not reverse image searchable. We crafted a bio that would appeal to Dererick’s type.

New to Portland, love hiking, craft beer, and intelligent conversation. Not here for games. Then Vanessa swiped right on Derrick’s profile. It took less than 12 hours for him to match and message her. His opening line was painfully predictable. Hey, beautiful. What brings you to Portland? Tiffany played it perfectly.