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?

The Price of Betrayal

The car sped down the highway. I opened the window to let the night wind dry the cold sweat from my forehead. My mind was clearer than ever. The pain had passed, giving way to a cold, precise calculation. I picked up the phone and dialed the number of my faithful assistant, Carla.

“It’s me, Elizabeth.”

“Yes, Mrs. Grant, I’m listening. How was the anniversary party? Was Mr. Grant surprised?”

“Immensely,” I laughed bitterly. “But we’ll talk about that later. Now listen carefully to my instructions and execute them immediately.”

“Yes, tell me. I’m listening.” Carla’s voice turned serious when she noticed the strangeness in my tone.

“First, contact the bank immediately and request the blocking of all supplementary credit cards in the names of Ethan Grant, Eleanor Grant, and Jessica Grant. The reason is a request from the primary card holder. Do it right now. Block all of them.”

“But isn’t Mr. Grant on a business trip? No he’s…” Carla was about to ask more but stopped herself.

“Don’t ask questions. Block them immediately.”

“Yes, I’m doing it right now.”

“Second,” I continued in a firm voice, “Call the administration of the residential community and ask them to cut off all internet and cable TV services. At the same time, contact the electricity and water companies and request a temporary suspension of service because the owners will be away for a long time. Cut the power and water.”

“But Mrs. Eleanor and Jessica are still in the house.”

“No, it’s not their house anymore. That house is in my name. It is a premarital separate property. What I want to do with it is my right. You just follow my orders.”

“Yes, ma’am. Understood.”

“Third, immediately draft a statement to withdraw funding for the research project ‘Application of American Folklore in Modern Life’ by Dr. Ethan Grant. The reason is a breach of the contractual clause regarding the ethics of the principal investigator. Send this statement to the dean’s office at Boston University and a copy to Ethan tomorrow morning.”

“Mrs. Grant, that’s very serious. If we withdraw funding suddenly Mr. Grant could be sanctioned, even fired.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” I said clearly. “He used my money to support his mistress at the university itself, publicly humiliating me. I’m going to take away everything I’ve given him.”

There was a silence of a few seconds on the other end of the line, and then Carla’s voice sounded full of determination. “Understood, Mrs. Grant. I will execute it immediately. Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you Carla. Oh, one more thing.”

“Tell me.”

“Contact Mass General Hospital and cancel the appointment for Mrs. Eleanor Grant’s kidney transplant next week. Tell them the family has been unable to raise the funds. Request the withdrawal of her file.”

This time Carla was truly shocked. “Mrs. Grant, that’s a matter of life and death. Mrs. Eleanor has been waiting for that kidney every day.”

I gripped the steering wheel, my eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.

“I know. But they trampled on my kindness. They said I only used money to buy affection. Well then, I’ll show them that without my money they can’t even keep their lives. Do it.”

“Yes, I will.”

I hung up. I threw the phone onto the passenger seat. A feeling of satisfaction mixed with bitterness washed over me. I never thought I would become so ruthless, but they themselves had forced me to become this person. I remembered Eleanor’s words: “My family though poor has principles and values.”

Principles and values. A mother-in-law who defends her son’s infidelity, a sister-in-law who insults her sister-in-law, and an entire family that gangs up on the woman who has supported them. I laughed at those principles.

The car entered the luxury complex of Millennium Tower. I didn’t go back to the house in Brooklyn; that place was now contaminated by the breath of traitors. I had a penthouse here that I had bought secretly two years ago, intending to use it as a quiet refuge when I was tired. Now it would be my fortress, the place where I would start my new life.

I parked in the garage and went up the private elevator, watching the numbers on the panel rise to the 50th floor. I knew the real battle had just begun. Tonight would be a very long night for them. When their credit cards were declined, when the house went dark from the power cut, when their last hope for life was extinguished, they would understand the price of betrayal.

I opened the apartment door, turned on all the lights. The luxurious quiet and immaculate space welcomed me. I poured myself a glass of red wine, went out onto the balcony and looked out over the sparkling city. Tomorrow the storm would break, and I, Elizabeth Grant, would be the one directing it.