My Husband And His Mistress Mocked Me In German To My Face. They Called Me A “walking Atm” And Planned My Replacement. They Didn’t Realize I Understood Every Word. What Should My First Move Be?
The Violent End
Later, from the police report, I pictured the horrific scene that unfolded at Lisa’s luxury condo. David drove like a man possessed, speeding through the city, a demon of rage seeking to tear apart those who had deceived him.
He kicked down the apartment door to find Lisa calmly packing her designer handbags into a suitcase, clearly preparing to flee with her lover and their loot. Seeing David’s murderous expression, she dropped her lipstick.
“David, what are you doing here? You scared me,” she said, trying to play the part of the delicate frightened lover.
But he didn’t say a word. He grabbed her by the hair, dragged her into the living room, and slapped her so hard she fell onto the expensive Italian leather sofa, blood trickling from her mouth.
“You lying bitch! You passed off another man’s kid as mine!” he screamed, throwing the file in her face.
Lisa saw the photos, the DNA report, and knew the charade was over. Her fear vanished, replaced by the brazen, venomous face of a street-hardened con artist. She wiped the blood from her lip and stood up.
“Yeah, I lied. So what?” she sneered, her voice shrill. “Look at yourself. You’re stupid and impotent, a mama’s boy. If it wasn’t for your money, I wouldn’t have given you the time of day. I used your money to raise my child and support my real man. That’s the price you pay for your foolishness.”
David was speechless. He lunged at her, and they fought like wild animals, tearing at each other amidst the wreckage of the luxurious living room.
Just then, the door, already broken, swung open again. It was Eleanor. She had also received my package and had rushed over hoping it was all a lie. But the scene before her—her bloodied son wrestling on the floor with her precious daughter-in-law, hearing Lisa admit the grandson she cherished was a fraud—shattered her last hope.
“Stop it! My God, what has this family done to deserve this?” Eleanor shrieked, dropping her handbag.
The fighting stopped. Lisa, disheveled and defiant, looked at Eleanor.
“Oh, you’re here too? Take a good look at your grandson. You’re just as stupid as your son. So desperate for an heir you raised another man’s bastard. You all deserve this.”
The words were the final hammer blow to Eleanor’s fragile mind. She swayed, her hands clutching her head. Her entire life of scheming, of social climbing, of oppressing me for the sake of her family’s hollow legacy, all for this humiliating end.
Her eyes glazed over. In her desperate, broken mind, she saw an illusion, an escape. She crawled over to a teddy bear lying on the floor, clutched it to her chest, and began to rock it gently, a strange beatific smile spreading across her tormented face.
“My grandson, my precious heir,” she whispered. “Shh, Grandma’s here. Grandma will sing you a lullaby.”
And she began to sing a rambling, off-key tune, her voice cracking. David stood frozen, watching his mother descend into madness. Her insanity, tragically, was the only peace she could find.
The wail of sirens grew louder. The police and paramedics, called by neighbors, burst in. Lisa, ever the actress, immediately started crying, pointing to her bruises and accusing David of attempted murder. David didn’t defend himself. He just stood there empty as they put him in handcuffs.
As he was led away, he saw his mother, the iron-willed matriarch, strapped to a gurney, still clutching the teddy bear and muttering about her grandson.
