I sold my parents’ house and car to fund my husband Jake’s dream farm. I believed in him — until one morning, I accidentally took his phone instead of mine.
At the bus stop, a call came in. A woman’s voice: “Hey baby… did she leave already? I waited all night.”
My stomach dropped.
I didn’t go to the bank. I found a coffee shop and read through his messages. There she was: Alex. I realized the farm, the promises, the love — they weren’t mine alone.
I returned Jake’s phone without a word and watched him grab it like nothing happened. No guilt. Just more lies about “meetings.”
I followed him. He went to a small house. She greeted him with a kiss.
I waited until he left, then knocked.
Alex, shocked, let me in after I told her, “I’m Jake’s wife.”
She thought she was the only one. Turns out, she had sold her shares to help him, too.
He played us both — told her I was crazy, told me she didn’t exist.
We decided to play along.
I told Jake the money would arrive in three days. Alex promised her share too. Then we arranged to meet him at a restaurant.
Jake walked in, kissed Alex, and fed her more lies. That’s when I appeared behind him.
“Hi, honey.”
He froze.
“You’re not getting a cent,” I said. “You left your phone at home. Big mistake.”
We walked out, leaving Jake speechless and humiliated. Two women who gave too much… and finally took something back.