After years of trying to hold my marriage together, I thought catching my husband with another woman was rock bottom. But nothing could have prepared me for the way he rubbed his mistress in my face or for the unexpected ally who would set things right.
Let me rewind. I’ve been married to Logan for five years. Like any marriage, we had our fair share of challenges, but I never expected it to come to this. In the beginning, everything seemed fine. We were genuinely in it together, but as time went on, infertility became a massive issue. My mental health took a hit, and I felt like I was failing him. Instead of supporting me, Logan began to focus more on himself. He bought a fast car, started hitting the gym, and seemed more interested in “finding himself” than helping me through my struggles.
Then one night, after a difficult week, my best friend Lola convinced me to go out and clear my head. We ended up at a cozy jazz club downtown, the kind where the music was just right for conversation. Everything was going well until Lola went silent. I turned to follow her gaze and, there, sitting at a table, was Logan with a young woman draped over his shoulder. She was giggling while he whispered into her ear.
I froze. My worst fears were confirmed. It was him. I stormed over to their table, and without thinking, I blurted out, “Logan, are you serious right now?”
Logan looked up, surprised for a moment, before a smirk spread across his face. “Well, finally,” he said, not even apologetic. The woman, Brenda, smiled smugly at me.
“Look, Natasha,” Logan said, leaning back in his chair, “it’s better you know now. I’m in love with someone else. We’re done.”
Just like that, no remorse, no hesitation. I wanted to scream, to slap him, but instead, I just stood there, completely numb. Lola quickly guided me out of the club and to her apartment where I broke down.
The next morning, after barely any sleep, I decided to confront Logan. Maybe, just maybe, he’d come to his senses. But when I arrived home, I was greeted with the sight of my belongings scattered all over the front lawn. Clothes, books, photo frames—everything tossed out like garbage. And there he was, standing on the porch with Brenda by his side, smug as ever.
“I don’t need to remind you,” Logan sneered, “but this house belongs to my grandfather. You have no claim to it. Get your stuff and leave. Now.”
I stood frozen, unable to speak. He was kicking me out, and the worst part? He looked pleased to do it. I gathered my things, trying to keep my emotions in check. Brenda stayed on the porch, watching me pack, and her smug smile only made it worse.
“I can’t wait to redecorate this place,” she said with a sigh. “It’s so outdated and ugly.”
People in a jazz club | Source: Gemini
I pushed my hurt aside as best I could and started packing my car. But just as I was about to leave, a car pulled up behind me. Mr. Duncan, Logan’s grandfather, stepped out of a sleek black BMW. He looked around, taking in the scene: my belongings on the lawn, Brenda on the porch, and Logan nowhere to be found.
“What the hell is going on here?” he boomed as he approached. Brenda called for Logan, and when he appeared, Mr. Duncan’s anger was unmistakable.
“Logan, what have you done?” Mr. Duncan’s voice was thick with fury. “You’ve kicked my favorite granddaughter-in-law out of the house and are living with this… woman?”
Logan tried to defend himself, but Mr. Duncan wasn’t having it. “Let me remind you,” he said, his voice rising. “This house belongs to me. I let you live here because you were starting a family. But now you’re disrespecting your wife? Consider yourself out. Effective immediately.”
Logan’s face went pale. “What are you saying?” he stammered.
“I’m saying Natasha will stay, and you will leave,” Mr. Duncan said, cutting him off. “You think you can disrespect your wife and make our family look bad? Not on my watch.”
As Logan and Brenda left, Mr. Duncan turned to me with a tender look in his eyes. “I came here to offer help with IVF,” he said. “But instead, I find this disaster. You don’t deserve any of this.” He shook his head in frustration. “This house is yours now. I’ll make it official. And this is my apology for not raising a better grandson.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. Mr. Duncan had always treated me like family, and now he was giving me the home I thought I’d lost. He promised to take care of the paperwork, and in the days that followed, everything was sorted. Logan was cut off from the family’s fortune.
Word got around quickly. Brenda didn’t stick around once she realized the money was gone, and Logan, without the financial support he’d taken for granted, was left scrambling. He came crawling back just a week later, looking disheveled and desperate.
“I made a mistake,” he said, no apology in his voice. “Can you call my grandfather? He’ll listen to you.”
But there was no remorse. He regretted losing the money, not me. I couldn’t help but smile as I slammed the door in his face. “Nope,” I said. “You made your bed, lie in it.”
The satisfaction was overwhelming as I heard him yell from the other side. Maybe I’ll feel bad for him later, but at that moment, I felt nothing but triumph. He had it coming.
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