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 Fall of David Anderson

The words “You may leave now” were spoken softly but with brutal finality, slamming shut every door of hope for David. Two large security guards stepped forward, gesturing for him to exit.

David looked around at the pitying and mocking gazes of his competitors. He felt a profound, gut-wrenching humiliation, as if he had been stripped naked in public. He wanted to scream, to lunge at me, but his feet felt like they were encased in lead.

Stepping out of the Lamson Group skyscraper, the golden afternoon sun hit my eyes, making me squint. The wind whipped around me, blowing stray hairs across my face and carrying away the frustrations of the past few days.

I took a deep breath, savoring the sweet taste of freedom and victory. My phone buzzed. It was a bank alert. A large sum had just been deposited into my personal account: my consulting fee from Mr. Lamson plus a handsome bonus for helping his corporation eliminate a risky partner.

I looked at the long string of numbers and smiled. This was the first clean money I had earned since stepping out of David’s shadow. It wasn’t an allowance he gave me or the token salary for my figurehead CFO role. This was the result of my own intellect and grit. The feeling of holding money I had earned myself was empowering.

The Private Investigator

Instead of going home, I drove to a quiet cafe tucked away in a small alley. I had an important appointment. Seated in a corner booth, I dialed the private investigator I had hired right after that fateful party. He answered quickly.

“Miss Miller, I was just about to call you. I have some very interesting news.”

“Go on, I’m listening,” I said, stirring my lemonade, feeling strangely calm. “About that girl, Lisa.”

The investigator’s voice was laced with a cynical humor.

“Her profile is beautiful, like a painting. Studied abroad in Germany, from a respectable family, works in real estate. But you know, around here, anything that looks too perfect is usually fake. I did some digging and found some fascinating things.”

I tightened my grip on the spoon, my instincts telling me I was about to uncover something horrifying.

“What exactly?”

“She’s no exchange student. That diploma of hers can be bought on the street for a couple hundred bucks. She used to work as a hostess at some bars downtown, then disappeared for a while before re-emerging with this prim and proper persona. But this is the most important part,” he lowered his voice, “I got the hair samples from the baby and your husband just as you asked. The DNA results are pending, but based on my experience, you should prepare for a major drama. It seems you’re not the only victim here.”

“What do you mean?” I pressed.

“There’s a professional operation, a kind of high-end honey trap. They target wealthy men who are desperate for a male heir, create perfect scenarios, and lure them in. This Lisa has all the markings of a pro. I’ll send you the detailed file and the DNA results in two days.”

I hung up, staring out the window. A sense of dread mixed with a hunter’s thrill ran down my spine. It turned out the story of the precious male heir was built on a foundation of filth.