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I Was Babysitting Her Kids While She Slept With My Husband — But Her Secret Became My Best Revenge
People always said I was “too nice.” That I gave too much. That I was the kind of woman who forgave even when she shouldn’t.
They were right.
I used to believe that if you were good, good things would come back to you. That love, once given, would last forever.

But all that changed after the wedding. That warmth Jack used to show me? It disappeared like a dream you can’t remember. These days, he barely looked at me. Always lying on the couch, glued to his phone like it was more interesting than the woman who’d married him.
We used to go on evening walks. He used to hold my hand. He used to ask, “Wanna grab dinner tonight, Marie?”

Now? Nothing.
That night, I stood by the door with my coat on. I stared at him. Waiting. Hoping.
He didn’t even glance up.
I tried anyway. “Jack, do you remember when we used to talk about taking a little weekend trip together?”

He sighed, eyes locked on his screen. “Why are you bringing this up again, Marie? I have work tomorrow.”
My voice cracked. “We don’t even eat together anymore.”
Jack just shrugged. “We’re in the same house. What more do you want?”
I turned away without another word. I didn’t cry, though. Not yet.

Then my phone buzzed.
It was Linda — my sister.
“Marie!” she shouted into the phone like we were in a stadium. “Hey, can you come babysit tonight? Please, please, please? You’re my angel!”
I sighed. “Linda… I just watched the kids three nights ago. I stayed until midnight.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic! You know I don’t have a husband anymore. I need time to rebuild. Before I end up old and dry like a raisin!”
She laughed like it was funny. “Come on! You’ve got Jack. I’ve got nothing!”
I glanced at Jack — still on the couch, scrolling.
“Fine. Thirty minutes.”

“Knew you’d say yes! You’re the best!” She hung up before I could change my mind.
I grabbed my bag and said, “I’m heading to Linda’s again. Her kids need someone.”
Jack yawned. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
At Linda’s

The house was quiet when I arrived. The kids were already asleep. I sat on the couch with a cup of lukewarm tea, staring at the clock. Two in the morning. No text. No call.

Seven hours, Linda. What kind of “meeting” lasts that long?

I checked on the kids. Billy snored softly under his dinosaur blanket. Cindy had her thumb in her mouth, hugging her raggedy stuffed monkey.

I love those kids. Truly. But that’s when my chest tightened.

My inhaler!

I grabbed my coat pocket. Empty. I tore through my purse. Found an old one — nearly dead.

No, not now. Please, not now…

I staggered outside, trying to breathe.

That’s when I saw Gloria, the sweet old neighbor, watering her plants in the dark.

“Marie?” she asked, lowering her watering can. “You alright, dear?”

“Gloria… asthma… meds at home… can you watch the kids?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she said, already peeling off her gloves. “Go. I’ve got them.”

I nodded, heart racing, lungs screaming. My house was only twenty minutes away. I just had to get there.

When I arrived, I noticed something strange. The bedroom light was on.

And… Linda’s car was in the driveway.

My heart dropped.

No. No. No…

Inside, the house was quiet — except for laughter. A man’s voice. A woman’s.

From my bathroom.

I walked up the stairs. Every step heavier than the last. My eyes caught something—Jack’s shirt, Linda’s bracelet—tossed along the staircase like forgotten trash.

I burst through the bathroom door.

Jack was in the tub, bubbles up to his chest. Linda sat beside him, swirling a wine glass with a strawberry on the rim.

They stared at me like I was the intruder.

“Marie?” Linda’s smile vanished. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the kids!”

“With the kids?” My voice was shaking. “I trusted you. You’re my sister. How could you?”

Jack raised his glass like it was a joke. “Guess I picked the wrong sister.”

I couldn’t breathe. I stumbled into the bedroom, grabbed my inhaler, collapsed to the floor.

Red rose petals covered the bed.

They planned this.

And right then — in that moment — sweet, kind Marie… died.

Someone else was born in her place. A woman ready to make them both pay.

The Secret I’d Been Holding

At sunrise, I returned to Linda’s. Gloria was snoring softly in a chair, blanket around her legs. I slipped inside. Cindy and Billy were still dreaming.

And Tommy — Linda’s youngest — lay fast asleep, hugging a dino pillow.

People always joked, “Tommy doesn’t look like Linda’s ex. Doesn’t really look like Linda either.”

But I knew the truth.

I sat beside Tommy and ran my fingers through his blond hair. Then, gently, I plucked one single strand and tucked it into a plastic bag.

“I’m sorry, sweet boy,” I whispered. “This is bigger than you.”

I knelt by Gloria and shook her gently.

“Marie?” she murmured.

“My husband…” I sobbed. “With my sister…”

Her hands were so soft as she cupped my face.

“Oh, honey. You don’t deserve this. Never did.”

“I want revenge,” I whispered. “I want them to feel what I feel.”

Gloria nodded slowly. “Then don’t forgive. Let it burn.”

Two Weeks Later

The DNA results came in a plain white envelope. I didn’t open it right away. I sat with it beside a cold muffin until I finally tore it open.

Seventy percent match.

Not a full match. But close enough.

Close enough to crack their perfect little world in two.

A few nights earlier, Jack had stood at the door with his suitcase.

“I’m moving in with Linda.”

I’d smiled. “Good luck, honey. This isn’t over.”

Time for the Final Act

That evening, I pulled up to their new house. It looked like a magazine ad—pretty porch lights, fresh flowers.

Fake. Just like them.

I knocked. Linda answered in a silk robe. Her lipstick was still wet.

“Marie?” she hissed. “What are you doing here?”

I smiled sweetly. “Is my husband home?”

Jack walked in, beer in hand. He looked nervous.

I sat on their white sofa like I owned it.

“We need to talk,” I said.

Linda rolled her eyes. “Ignore her. She’s lost it.”

I held up the envelope.

“Jack. Ever wonder who Tommy’s real father is?”

He froze. “Don’t drag the kid into this.”

“Read it.”

Linda lunged. “Don’t you dare—!”

Jack opened it. His lips moved slowly.

“Seventy percent? What does that mean? He’s mine?”

“Is he, Linda?” I asked.

Jack’s voice rose. “Linda! Is he my son?!”

Linda’s face hardened. “No. He’s not yours.”

Jack’s jaw dropped.

“Then whose is he?!”

She laughed — but it was cold. “Your brother’s. Rick. Mr. Perfect. He knocked me up, then paid me to keep it quiet.”

Jack’s face twisted. “You used me. You used everyone.”

Linda smirked. “So what? Rick gives me money, gifts, spa days. He doesn’t want his wife to find out. So I keep quiet.”

“You disgust me,” Jack whispered.

I stood up.

“Looks like you picked the wrong sister, Jack.”

Then I turned and called, “Kids? Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Cindy and Tommy peeked around the corner. I knelt down.

“Come on, sweethearts. Grab your coats.”

Tommy tugged my sleeve. “But… what about Mom?”

I smiled gently. “Mom and Uncle Jack need to yell at each other. Let’s leave them to it.”

Linda’s screeching followed us out the door. Jack shouted something back. The house might’ve looked perfect, but it was crumbling inside.

Outside, the sun was warm. The air smelled like freedom.

Two small hands grabbed mine.

“Chocolate or strawberry?” I asked.

“Both!” they shouted.

Perfect.

I wanted something sweet that day.

Because revenge had never tasted so good.