My Husband Brought His Mistress To A Business Dinner To Humiliate His “Useless” Wife. He Didn’t Know I Speak Eight Languages Or That I’m The One Who Actually Owns Our Mansion. Am I Wrong For Letting Him Ruin Himself?

Justice Served

The audit lasted for three tense days. Under my direction, the team of professional auditors scrutinized every corner of Julian’s company’s accounting. I didn’t rely just on the numbers. I relied on my prodigious memory of the times Julian had revealed details in phone calls at home, of the times Chloe had brought documents for him to sign and I had glanced at them secretly.

I knew exactly where they hid the slush funds. I knew which shell companies they used for tax evasion. On the fourth day, in the afternoon, I called an emergency meeting with the company’s board of directors, including the non-family shareholders. Julian and Chloe were summoned to provide explanations.

I threw a thick dossier in the middle of the table.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the board, we have the results of the audit. The situation is much worse than we imagined.”

I projected eloquent charts and figures on the screen.

“First, CEO Julian Thorne and the head of accounting, Chloe’s accomplice, conspired to falsify more than 50 raw material purchase contracts with shell companies in the names of their relatives. The total amount diverted amounts to over $20 million in the last three years.”

A murmur of astonishment swept through the room. The shareholders turned to look at Julian with fury. He kept his head down, sweating profusely.

“Second,” I continued in a voice of steel, “Miss Chloe, as the CEO’s assistant, overstepped her authority to approve numerous personal expenses as if they were company expenses, from luxury travel and designer shopping to supporting a lover, all recorded as corporate expenses.”

I projected invoices from five-star hotels, receipts for Hermes bags, and photos of her vacations with the other man that I had compiled. Chloe shrieked, covering her face.

“Turn that off! You’re violating my privacy!”

“Privacy?” I laughed coldly. “When you use shareholder money for your games, you lose that right. This is embezzlement.”

I turned to the shareholders.

“As the representative of H&G, I declare that we will suspend all collaboration and cancel the contract if the current management is not removed and held legally accountable. We cannot allow our brand to be tarnished by fraudsters.”

Mr. Gaston, a major and highly respected shareholder, stood up and pointed at Julian.

“Julian, I trusted you! And you dare to do this to us? Do you take us for fools? I propose his immediate dismissal as CEO and that we sue him to recover the money.”

“Yes! Dismissal! To the courts!” The other shareholders supported him.

Julian crumbled. He slumped into his chair, his gaze lost. He looked at me, and in his eyes there was no longer anger or hatred, but absolute despair. He knew he was finished. He would not only lose the company, the house, and his wife, but he was also facing prison.

I gathered my documents, ready to leave. My work there was done. I had brought the truth to light. I had obtained justice for myself and for everyone he had deceived. As I walked past Julian, I stopped and said in a low voice:

“You see Julian, without me as your support, you are nothing but a failure. You broke your own plate of food. Don’t blame anyone but your own greed and stupidity.”

I walked out of the room leaving behind a chaos of shouts and accusations. The long corridor opened up before me, but this time at the end of the path shone the light of freedom and glory.

Ashes and Regret

Julian’s downfall was swifter than I imagined. Within 24 hours, the news of his company’s financial scandal flooded the business press. CEO embezzles company funds. Billion-dollar contract in jeopardy. The hidden face of a successful entrepreneur. Sensational headlines that sealed his reputation.

Sitting in my new office at the H&G headquarters, I savored a black coffee while reading the news. I felt an undeniable satisfaction, but more deeply, a great sense of relief. Justice had finally been served. My phone rang. It was Heather, Julian’s sister. I answered, not out of a desire to hear her insults, but out of curiosity to know how desperate the family was.

“Eleanor, are you happy now?” Heather’s voice was broken with sobs. “The police have taken Julian. My mother collapsed and is in the ER. You are a horrible person. You’ve destroyed my family.”

“Heather,” I replied calmly, “the one who signed false contracts was Julian. The ones who embezzled the money were Julian and Chloe. I only brought the truth to light. If your brother had done things right, no one could have hurt him. Instead of calling me to insult me, you should be looking for a good lawyer for him.”

“But they’ve seized the house and his bank accounts are frozen. Where are my mother and I supposed to live? Let us stay in the Greenwich house. After all, it’s your house too.”

Her audacity made me laugh. The day before they wanted to throw me out on the street, and now they were begging me for a roof over their heads.

“I’m sorry. I’ve already put that house up for sale. I don’t want to keep any memories of your miserable family. I’m giving you 24 hours to get out. After that, I’m changing the locks.”

I hung up and blocked her number. I no longer had any obligation to support those who had exploited me for 10 years.

That afternoon, I went with my lawyer to the house to supervise the handover. The scene was desolate. Furniture was strewn everywhere. Dolores was sitting on the floor by the entrance, crying and cursing the heavens. Heather was packing clothes into boxes while arguing with several creditors who were surrounding the gate.

Seeing me get out of a luxury car, Dolores lunged to attack me, but the bodyguard stopped her.

“Give me back my son, you wretch! Ever since you came into this family, it’s been nothing but bad luck!”

I looked at her coldly.

“The bad luck is that your son is incompetent and greedy. You spoiled him, tolerated all his vices, and now you blame me. The only one who has harmed him is you.”

I signaled to my lawyer to proceed. Piece by piece, the family’s belongings were brought out to the street. The sofa where Julian watched TV, the tea set Dolores used to show off to her friends—it all now lay in a pile like scrap. When the gate closed, I handed the keys to the real estate agent.

“Sell it as soon as possible, at any price.”

I turned and walked away, leaving behind the house that was once my personal hell without the slightest hint of nostalgia.

A month later, the trial was held. I was called as the primary witness. Julian, in the defendant’s box, looked like a ghost. He had lost a lot of weight. His hair had turned gray. He wore a prison uniform. His eyes sunken and lifeless.

When I entered the courtroom, a flash of belated regret shone in his eyes, but it was quickly smothered by humiliation. Chloe was there too, beside him. She no longer had her arrogant air, her face pale and makeup-free, her eyes swollen from crying.

The trial began. The evidence I provided was so overwhelming that Julian’s lawyer could barely defend him. Every act of embezzlement, tax evasion, and creation of slush funds was exposed. When it was my turn to testify, Julian’s lawyer tried to attack me, suggesting I had acted out of personal revenge.

“Mrs. Hayes, is it true that you were aware of these irregularities for some time but remained silent, waiting for the moment to get revenge on Mr. Thorne?”

I looked him straight in the eye and answered with a clear voice.

“I remained silent because I hoped my husband would come to his senses. I remained silent because I wanted to preserve my family. But when he and his mistress trampled on my honor, when they used embezzled money for their luxuries and planned to hide their assets, I had to speak up. It is not revenge. It is defending justice and the rights of honest shareholders.”

The courtroom murmured in approval. My firm words dismantled all the defense’s arguments. At the end of the trial, Julian was sentenced to 12 years in prison and ordered to return all the money. Chloe received 7 years for complicity and embezzlement. All of Julian’s assets were confiscated.

As they led him out of the courtroom, he passed by me. He stopped for a moment and mumbled.

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t look at him. I only replied in a low voice.

“You don’t owe me an apology. You owe it to yourself for not having lived a decent life.”

The police van drove away, taking the two people who had sown chaos in my life. I watched them go, feeling incredibly light. A dark chapter had closed forever.

After the trial, I threw myself into work. As a strategic adviser, I traveled constantly between Germany, Singapore, and the US. Long flights and intense meetings kept me busy, helping me to heal.

One rainy afternoon, I received a message from an unknown number.

“Eleanor, it’s Heather. I know I have no right to contact you, but my mother is dying in the hospital. She wants to see you one last time.”

I almost deleted the message, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. After all, she was my mother-in-law for 10 years. I asked the driver to take me to the hospital.

Dolores was in the ICU, connected to countless tubes. The stroke she suffered after losing the house and seeing her son in prison had devastated her. Heather at her side, thin and hollow-eyed, was feeding her a watery soup. Seeing me, she stood up, her head bowed.

“Eleanor, thank you for coming.”

I placed a fruit basket on the table and approached. Dolores opened her tired, glassy eyes. Seeing me, she tried to move her lips and tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks.

“Eleanor, I was wrong.” Her voice was a faint whisper. “Forgive Julian. Forgive me.”

She tried to reach for my hand but lacked the strength. I looked at the woman who was once arrogant and cruel, now bedridden and helpless. I felt a pang of compassion.

“Rest. Don’t speak,” I said softly.

I didn’t answer her request. I just gave a slight nod. Forgiveness? Perhaps I had already done it. Holding a grudge would only hurt me. I was letting them go, not because they deserved it, but because I deserve to be at peace.

I turned to Heather and took an envelope from my purse.

“Here, this is to help with the hospital expenses. Take care of her. I won’t be back.”

Heather took the envelope and burst into tears.

“Thank you, Eleanor. I’m so sorry. We were horrible to you.”

I left the room. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor faded behind me. Outside, the rain had stopped. The puddles reflected the street lights. I took a deep breath of the damp air, feeling my soul cleansed.