My Husband Claimed He Was On A Business Trip. I Found Him At The Hospital With My Pregnant Best Friend. Little Does He Know, I Just Cut Him Off From Every Penny He Ever Stole. What Should I Do Next?

Chapter 15: The Secret Wardrobe

My steps felt heavy but firm as I entered the master bedroom of that house. An intense scent of Jo Malone’s English Pear and Freesia perfume—the same one I used to wear—invaded my nostrils. Apparently, Lauren did not just want to steal my husband; she wanted to be me.

The room was messy, with clothes strewn over chairs and makeup remnants on the vanity. In a corner, a large teak wood wardrobe stood imposing. I opened it abruptly. A row of designer handbags greeted my eyes: a Hermès Birkin, a Chanel classic flap, a Louis Vuitton Neverfull—bags whose prices were equivalent to that of a small car, perfectly lined up.

My heart sank as I recognized a gray Dior saddle bag. It was the bag I had been looking for last month at my home. Richard told me it might have gotten lost in the storage room. Well, it turned out the bag was here, being used by his mistress.

“Damn you,” I muttered under my breath.

I pulled out the bags one by one, throwing them on the floor as if they were garbage.

“Hector!” I shouted.

Hector rushed in.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Load all these bags. They are my property. Take them to my car. Do not mix them with the junk we are throwing in the yard.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

Once the wardrobe was empty, my eyes fell on a small metal safe hidden at the bottom, covered by a pile of blankets. A digital safe. I knelt in front of it, my heart pounded. What was Richard hiding here?

I tried to guess the combination. Richard’s date of birth: error. Lauren’s date of birth: I checked her HR data on my phone. Lauren had applied for a job at my office once. I entered the date: error. Our wedding date: error.

I paused for a moment, trying to think like Richard. Richard was narcissistic but also sentimental in his own strange way, or maybe he was just stupid. My hand reached out, and I pressed six digits: the date they started dating. I remembered that date because I had seen it in a small tattoo on Richard’s wrist that he got last month. He said it was just art.

Beep, beep. Click. The indicator light turned green. The safe door opened slowly.

Chapter 16: The Black Ledger

I held my breath. My eyes widened at its contents. It was not just money. Inside the safe were bundles of cash, perhaps about $10,000, but that was not what made my blood boil. On top of the cash were two small books, one dark green and one maroon: a secret marriage certificate.

My hands trembled as I picked up the documents. I opened them. A photo of Richard and Lauren side by side against a blue background, smiling broadly. The date of their wedding was listed as two years ago. Two years. A tear fell without permission, landing right on Richard’s face in the photo. Two years of sleeping next to a traitor. Two years of financing his second wife’s life without knowing it.

Beneath the certificate, I found a small black notebook: a ledger. I opened it. It contained Richard’s neat handwriting.

January 2023: Cash withdrawal, Havenwood project 2, $500 deposited into Lauren’s account. Purchase necklace. March 2023: Overcharge on catering supplier office, $800. Down payment on car for Lauren’s sister. June 2023: Sale of Sarah’s diamond ring, supposedly lost, $10,000 for vacation in Ibiza.

My breath caught. My chest tightened painfully. My grandmother’s ring, lost a year ago. Richard said I probably dropped it while washing my hands at a mall; he even feigned panic while helping me look for it. It turned out he had stolen it. He sold my family’s heirloom to fund a vacation for this prostitute.

The rage burning inside me turned into a deathly cold. I no longer felt sadness; I felt disgust. I took my phone and photographed every page of the notebook, the secret marriage certificate, and the bundles of cash. This was not just proof of infidelity; it was proof of a crime: embezzlement, theft, and falsification of financial reports.

“You will not just be ruined, Richard,” I whispered to the black notebook.

“You will rot in prison.”

I emptied the contents of the safe, putting the money, documents, and some gold jewelry that was there into my work briefcase.

Chapter 17: Evicted

When I left the room, the living room was already completely empty. Hector and his team worked incredibly fast. The sofa, the television, the dining table—everything had been taken out. The house was now just an echo of bare walls.

“Everything is cleared, ma’am,” Hector reported.

I nodded.

“Good. Now change all the locks. Chain the gate with the biggest chain you can find. Put a sign at the entrance for urgent sale.”

“Understood, ma’am. And Lauren’s things in the yard?”

I walked to the porch. On the green lawn, a mountain of trash was now piled up, consisting of Lauren’s clothes, shoes, plastic furniture, and cosmetics. Neighbors began to gather behind their fences, whispering and pointing.

I looked at the pile.

“Leave it there. If it rains, let it get wet. If any junk collector wants to take it, go ahead. It is my last act of charity for Lauren.”

Meanwhile, at Our Lady’s Hospital, Richard was sitting in a cafeteria chair with a sour face. In front of him was only a glass of water. His stomach was growling, but the stress had taken his appetite. The administration staff had just called him again.

“Final notice: pay the $500 deposit before noon, or Lauren will have to vacate the VIP room.”

“Damn it! Why were none of the cards working?”

Richard ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had tried calling the office, but his secretary told him, “I am sorry, Mr. Miller, the HR system is down. We cannot process any advances, and Mrs. Hayes is unreachable.”

Richard knew it was strange, but he refused to believe Sarah was behind all of this. In his eyes, Sarah was a naive, madly in love wife. Sarah would not be capable of this.

“Love?” Lauren’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Richard turned. Lauren had come down to the cafeteria, pushing her IV stand with difficulty. She was frowning.

“What is taking so long? You said you were going to get money! The doctor says I need a medication to support the pregnancy that costs $100. I have to buy it now!”

Richard swallowed hard. $100. In his wallet, he only had $10 left after getting gas.

“Lauren, be patient. I am trying. My friends are not answering their phones,” Richard excused himself.

“Trying? What? You are just sitting there doing nothing!” Lauren began to raise her voice.

“You said you were rich! You said your wife was just a cash cow! Where is the proof? You cannot even buy medicine for your own child!”

Chapter 18: The Rolex Sale

Those words slapped Richard’s ego. He looked at the Rolex Submariner on his wrist. It was authentic, a birthday gift from Sarah last year. Its price was around $10,000. Richard gritted his teeth.

“I have no other choice. Wait here, do not move,” Richard ordered Lauren.

Richard rushed out of the hospital. He remembered a secondhand luxury watch shop on a nearby street. He quickened his pace under the scorching sun. Sweat soaked his dress shirt. Arriving at the shop, Richard immediately took off the watch.

“I want to sell this, quick. I need cash,” Richard told the owner, a middle-aged man with glasses.

The man examined the watch with a magnifying glass.

“Hmm, Rolex Submariner. Authentic. Still in good condition. Do you have the box and papers, sir?”

Richard shook his head.

“I do not have them with me. They are back in New York. I am selling it as is.”

The man smiled sideways; he knew Richard’s position was weak.

“Well, without papers, the price drops a lot, sir. It could be stolen, you know.”

“I am not a thief! I am a businessman!” Richard shouted, offended.

“It is my watch!”

“Yes, sir, I believe you, but rules are rules. Without papers, I can only offer you $2,000.”

“What?” Richard’s eyes widened.

“Are you crazy? Its secondhand value is at least $8,000!”

“That is if it were complete, sir. Without papers, this is the offer. Take it or leave it.”

Richard clenched his fists. $2,000 was an insult, but he needed that money right now—for the hospital deposit, for Lauren’s medicine, for food, and for gas back to New York.

“Fine. $2,000. Give it to me now,” Richard said in a hoarse voice, holding back his rage.

Ten minutes later, Richard left the shop with a feeling of emptiness. His wrist felt light without the luxurious watch. The last symbol of his status was gone. He only had $2,000 in his pocket—an amount he would normally spend on a single dinner with clients using Sarah’s money.