My Husband Called Me A “Money-printing Machine” While Dining With His Mistress. I Canceled His Credit Cards And His Mother’s Life-saving Surgery In One Hour. Was I Too Cruel?
Confronting the Cheaters
I held my breath and pressed myself against the grease-stained wall, trying to hear every word. I needed to know who this woman was and to what extent my husband, the scholar and model husband, had been corrupted. The darkness of the kitchen corner seemed to swallow me, but it was that same darkness that helped me see the true face of the man I had once revered.
A clumsy and cruel play was about to end. I hid behind the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the main dining area of the pub. The narrow gap barely let my gaze through, but it was enough to capture the entire scene inside.
Under the yellowish light of an old filament bulb, Ethan was sitting on one of those familiar blue plastic chairs. But he wasn’t alone. On his lap was a slender young woman with long loose black hair. She wore a white uniform shirt and an excessively short skirt, and she was snuggled against my husband’s chest.
The hands I used to hold every night, the hands I had cared for every scratch, were now stroking another woman’s bare back. I felt a tightness in my chest, as if someone were strangling me. The blood rushed to my head, but the rationality of a businesswoman seasoned in a thousand battles forced me to remain calm. I couldn’t break down now. I had to see, I had to hear everything.
“Ethan,” the girl’s voice was syrupy and cloying like sugar, but in my ears it sounded as rancid as rotten fish. “The tuition deadline is almost here, and my mother back home is very sick. I don’t know how I’m going to manage. I think I’ll have to defer the semester.”
Ethan hugged her tighter. His voice was filled with a compassion and tenderness that he hadn’t shown me in a long time.
“You silly girl. With me here, why are you worried about money? You just focus on studying. I’ll take care of your mother’s illness and the tuition. You are a talent, you are my muse. I won’t let you be tainted by the dust of the world.”
“But where will you get the money? I heard your wife controls the finances very strictly. Does she know you’re helping me?”
At the mention of me, Ethan’s voice suddenly changed. There was no more tenderness, but a surprising resentment and contempt.
“Don’t mention that bitter old woman, you’re killing the mood. What does she know besides money and more money? All day with her head buried in account books calculating profits and losses. She’s such a materialistic, dry person. Every time she opens her mouth, it’s to talk about projects and contracts. Next to her, I feel as suffocated as in a prison.”
I bit my lip until it bled. Bitter old woman. Materialistic. Dry. That materialistic money bought the medicine for your mother, the car you drive, the house you live in, and even the doctoral degree you hold. Those dry account books are the only thing that has kept your family from starving and being despised by the world.
The girl let out a giggle with a slightly triumphant tone.
“Well, she seems very capable to me. Besides, she takes very good care of your family. I heard she even funds scholarships for our university. In fact, I’m receiving a scholarship from her company.”
Her words were like a lightning bolt that shot through my mind. A scholarship from my company. I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a better look at the girl’s face under the dim light. Her oval face and large innocent eyes began to look familiar.
Laura. It was Laura Pierce, the senior literature student for whom I myself had signed the decision to grant the scholarship for merit and financial hardship, valued at $15,000 at the beginning of the year. I remembered it clearly because in her file she had written a moving story about her humble family background but her great determination.
When I presented her with the award, she took my hand with teary eyes and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Grant. You are the benefactor of my life. I will follow your example to become a successful woman.”
It turned out she was following my example by stealing my husband. She was using my own money to dress up, go shopping, and then use that false appearance of innocence to seduce her benefactor’s husband. The audacity of this situation far exceeded my imagination.
Ethan let out a scornful laugh, stroking Laura’s hair.
“Her money is also my money. Do you think she’s so brilliant? Without my moral support, without me handling internal and external relations, how could she earn money so easily? She’s just a money printing machine. But you, Laura, you are the soul, the true love of my life. You are pure, kind. You understand poetry, music, art. You understand the concerns of an intellectual like me. When she comes home she only smells of money, of expensive cloying perfumes. It makes me nauseous just smelling it.”
Nauseous. Those two words echoed in my head. The expensive perfume I wear is because you once said it was elegant. For whom do I work myself to death to earn money?
I looked at the gift box in my hand. The gleaming Patek Philippe seemed to mock me. My sincerity, my 10 years of love, were now being compared by the man I shared my life with to a gold-digging student, and trampled on without mercy.
The anger inside me didn’t erupt like a blazing fire but turned cold and sharp as ice. I felt pity for myself and disgust for the two of them acting out their romantic farce inside. All the affection, all the respect I felt for Ethan had completely vanished in that instant.
Crashing the Party
I took a deep breath, swallowing my tears. The Elizabeth of before, the naive student who believed in a cottage and two hearts, was dead. Now standing here was Elizabeth Grant, the CEO of the Anchor Group. I would not allow anyone to trample on my pride.
I gently placed the gift box on the dusty kitchen counter; I no longer needed it. I fixed my hair, smoothed my dress. I would go in there not to make a jealous scene like a common woman, but to teach them a lesson about the price of betrayal.
I strode forward and gave the wooden door a hard kick. The sharp thunderous sound shattered the intimate atmosphere inside. The noise made the adulterous couple jump. Laura let out a choked cry and pushed Ethan away in a hurry while clumsily fixing the collar of her unbuttoned shirt. Ethan, for his part, had a face as pale as a ghost, his eyes wide staring at the door as if he had seen a phantom.
I stood there in the doorway, my shadow casting long across the old tiled floor. My gaze was icy, scanning the two of them who trembled like rats in a sewer caught in a spotlight.
“Elizabeth,” Ethan’s voice trembled, stuttering, unable to form words. “What… what are you doing here?”
I didn’t answer immediately. I walked in calmly. The sound of my heels against the tiles was regular and firm like a judge’s gavel about to deliver a sentence. I went straight to the plastic table. I pulled out a chair opposite them and sat down, crossing my legs with the same elegance and confidence as if I were in the boardroom.
“Are you very surprised?”
I forced a smile, a smile I knew was more terrifying than crying.
“Isn’t today our 10th wedding anniversary? I came to reminisce and look what I find, a most entertaining play.”
Laura had already recognized me. Her face was livid without a drop of blood. She quickly bowed her head, wringing her hands, and timidly hid behind Ethan.
“Mrs. Grant… I’m sorry…”
“Shut up.”
My voice was a whisper, but with enough authority to silence her.
“I haven’t given you permission to speak.”
I turned to Ethan, the man whose tie I had lovingly knotted that very morning before he went to work. Now seeing his disheveled appearance, sweating profusely with fear, I only felt a profound contempt for his cowardice.
“What were you saying a moment ago?” I tilted my head, pretending to think. “Old, bitter, materialistic, dry? Who only understands money?”
“Ethan, for the last 10 years this old woman has supported your entire family, from food and shelter to your false honor. You say ‘My money makes you nauseous.’ But you still accept it punctually every month. The car you drive, the suits you wear, even the underwear you have on… is there anything that wasn’t bought with my nauseating money?”
Ethan, after the initial panic, seemed to regain some composure. The wounded pride of someone who considers himself an intellectual was awakened. He jumped up, adjusted his clothes, trying to regain his usual air of dignity.
“Don’t think that just because you have money you can come here and lecture me,” Ethan growled, his face flushed. “Were you spying on me? Did you hire someone to follow me? I knew it, living with you is like being in a prison. You never respect my privacy.”
I burst out laughing, a bitter laugh that echoed in the empty room.
“Privacy? You call having an affair with a student and using your wife’s money to support your mistress privacy? Ethan, you’re a doctor, you’re a university professor, and your logic is worse than a three-year-old’s. I don’t need to spy on you. The heavens have eyes. My dear, I came here to give you a surprise, but the surprise you’ve given me is too big, I can’t swallow it.”
I directed my gaze to Laura, who was still cowering behind Ethan.
“And you, Laura Pierce. Brilliant student, a model of overcoming adversity,” I emphasized each word. “You receive my scholarship, you accept my sponsorship, and you repay me by sleeping with my husband. Is that the morality you’ve learned in life?”
Laura suddenly raised her head, her eyes full of tears, a look that would make any man want to protect her but that only disgusted me.
“Mrs. Grant, don’t insult me. Professor Grant and I are together for true love. We have a spiritual connection. I don’t need your money. I love him for who he is.”
“What great true love.” I clapped sarcastically. “You don’t need money? And who was just complaining about poverty, asking for tuition money, who was asking for money to treat her mother back home? Do you take me for a fool? If Ethan were a DoorDash driver, a starving construction worker, would you have a spiritual connection with him? Or did you just notice his professor title and the shiny Mercedes he drives?”
Ethan, seeing his little mistress cornered, stepped in to protect her, glaring at me furiously.
“Shut up! Don’t come here judging Laura with your crass vulgar attitude. She is a thousand times purer and holier than you. Look at yourself, always talking about money. Have you ever stopped to understand what I need, what I think? Laura gives me inspiration. She makes me feel like a real man, not like a kept man, which is how I feel next to you.”
“Kept man?” I stood up to face Ethan directly. I wasn’t as tall as him, but my aura at that moment made him take a step back.
“So you finally admit you’re a kept man? Very well. If you’re so sick of this suffocating life, so sick of this wife who smells of money, then let’s free each other.”
I looked him straight in the eye, declaring each word firmly.
“I will file for divorce tomorrow. You and your true love get ready to enjoy a life without the smell of money. Let’s see if your noble souls can be eaten.”
