Chlóe’s husband, Darren, showed up at their house that evening — just as I knew he would. I was already parked down the street, watching the chaos unfold.
The moment he stepped inside, he found the candlelit table I had set — printed screenshots of every transfer, every filthy message, all neatly laid out like a romantic dinner gone r0tten. Ethan’s shirt — the one I packed for his “business trip” — was balled up beside their love notes.
Through the open window, I heard Chlóe scream. Darren yelled Ethan’s name so loud it echoed down the block.
Within an hour, Ethan was blowing up my phone. I didn’t answer. Instead, I sent one final message:
“You drained our future — now watch yours collapse.”
I’d already emptied our joint account, changed the locks, and handed divorce papers to my lawyer. Ethan lost two families in one night.
Lesson:
Betrayal cuts deep — but never forget: the one they underestimated the most always hits the hardest.
