My Husband Mocked Me For Being “Naive” While Having An Affair In My Own Garden. He Didn’t Realize I Was Listening From The Shadows. Should I Tell Him About The “Gift” I Left In His Underwear Before The Party?

Setting the Trap

The plan was laid out step by step. They would never imagine that in a single afternoon, the wife they despised had completely transformed. The storm was just beginning, and the eye of the hurricane would be the family party I was about to direct.

Once the decision was made, I didn’t allow myself another second of weakness. The first thing I had to do was erase all traces of disarray. I picked up the pieces of the broken watering can and wiped the water from the floor.

I went out into the garden and collected Ethan’s crumpled shirt, Chloe’s dress, and their underwear scattered on the lawn. Holding those things in my hands, I no longer felt disgust but a strange calm.

I put everything in the washing machine, washed it, dried it, and folded it neatly, placing it in Ethan’s closet as if nothing had happened. I had to act to play the role of a wife who knows nothing. Only then could I make those two completely lower their guard and fall step by step into the trap I had set for them.

That evening, Ethan came home from work with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. He smiled, handing me the flowers:

“For you, my love. I closed a big deal today. I have my solid homefront to thank for it.”

If it had been the Olivia of yesterday, I would probably have cried with joy. But now, looking at that beautiful bouquet, it only seemed fake and ridiculous to me. I accepted the flowers, forcing a happy smile:

“Thank you, honey. You’ve worked so hard. Go wash up and come to dinner; I’ve made all your favorite dishes.”

Dinner proceeded in an atmosphere that to an outsider would seem incredibly warm. I constantly served Ethan food, asked him about his work. He also acted like an exemplary husband, telling me funny stories from the office, looking at me from time to time with a falsely affectionate gaze.

Watching him act only made me feel pity. Was he trying to compensate for his guilt with these empty gestures? Did he think a bouquet of flowers and a few sweet words could erase his disgusting betrayal?

During dinner, I delicately brought up the subject:

“Honey, your work has been going so well lately. I’m so happy for you. How about we throw a little party at home this weekend? We can invite our parents and some close relatives to celebrate. We haven’t had a get-together in a long time. It could be to celebrate your promotion and also a chance for me to officially get to know your family better. Ever since we got married, I haven’t really had the chance.”

Hearing me, Ethan’s eyes lit up. The idea seemed to please him. A family party would be the perfect opportunity for him to show off as a successful man with a happy family and a doting wife. It would dispel any rumors and reinforce his perfect image.

“What a great idea, my love! I was just thinking about telling you the same thing. Let’s do it. You take care of everything; you have my full support,” he said, patting my hand.

I smiled a victorious smile. The fish had taken the bait.

“Great, I’ll call your mom tomorrow to discuss the details with her. She’s older, she has experience. I’m sure she’ll give me good advice,” I said, deliberately elevating my mother-in-law’s role.

I knew that for Ethan, his mother was number one. Winning her over was the key to having complete control over everything.

The next morning, I called my mother-in-law. I laid out my idea for the party, of course with a very humble and solicitous tone:

“Mom, it’s Olivia. Ethan and I were thinking of having a little party at home this weekend to celebrate his promotion. I’m calling to ask for your opinion. Who do you think we should invite, and the menu? I’m young, I don’t have experience. I need you to guide me.”

My mother-in-law, a woman who always liked to exert her authority and put on airs, hearing me, she was flattered. She cleared her throat and began to lecture:

“Well, it’s good that you’re thinking this way. You should have done this a long time ago. Let’s see, you have to invite all the aunts and uncles from the paternal side, and the maternal side too. No one can be left out. And your great-uncle from Florida…”

She went on reciting an endless list, exactly the relatives I knew were the most critical and gossipy. I just nodded, pretending to listen attentively, taking notes.

“And as for the menu,” she continued, “it has to be something grand. We need a raw bar with oysters and shrimp, prime rib, a proper catered affair to impress everyone. Money is no object; tell Ethan to take care of it.”

I listened to her and inwardly laughed. She wanted a lavish banquet to show off, but she wanted her son to pay for it. And Ethan’s money, wasn’t it also my money?

“Yes, Mom. I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t worry, I’ll prepare everything perfectly,” I replied, my voice still sweet as honey.

But I didn’t stop at planning the party. I had to take another important step: get closer to Chloe. I needed to have her under control so she wouldn’t suspect anything or ruin my plan.

That afternoon, I went to the farmer’s market at the time I knew Chloe usually went. I ran into her by chance at the vegetable stall.

“Hey Chloe, you’re here too?” I greeted her with a big smile.

Seeing me, she was a little startled, but she quickly composed herself.

“Hi, Olivia. Yeah, just grabbing something for dinner.”

“What a coincidence, me too. Are you eating alone?”

“Yes, it’s a bit boring alone,” Chloe sighed, looking lonely.

“Well, come over for dinner tonight. I cooked a lot of good food,” I offered.

Chloe hesitated a bit, but then she nodded. That night, she came for dinner. I deliberately prepared her favorite dishes, treated her with great affection.

During dinner, I told her about my plans for the weekend party.

“It’s a shame it’s just family and older folks that day. It wouldn’t be right to invite you; otherwise, we could have chatted,” I said, feigning regret.

Chloe just smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m glad you’re having a party.”

She had no idea that although she wasn’t invited, she would be one of the main attractions.

After dinner, I even packed some fruit for her to take home. Before she left, I hugged her and patted her on the back.

“If you feel lonely, come see me, okay? That’s what friends are for.”

Chloe was moved, her eyes watery. “You’re so good to me, Olivia. Thank you so much.”

Watching her walk away, I gave a faint smile. Good, you’ll see just how good I can be. My play was perfectly set. The two traitors were in the palm of my hand, intoxicated by the false sweetness I offered them. They didn’t know that a deadly trap was slowly closing in around them.

The following days, I lived with two faces. At home, I was the exemplary wife and daughter-in-law, busy preparing for the big family party. I went to the most exclusive grocery stores, personally selecting the freshest ingredients: lobsters, fresh shrimp, the best cuts of beef. I bought everything without hesitation.

Ethan, seeing my expenses, seemed a little concerned. But when I told him it was so he and his parents would look good in front of the family, he nodded with satisfaction. He even gave me his credit card, telling me:

“Buy the best, don’t hold back.”

I took the card feeling only contempt. He was willing to spend a fortune on an ostentatious party to polish his image, not knowing that this very party would be the grave of his honor.

I not only prepared the food, I also decorated the house meticulously. I placed a vase of fragrant lilies in the living room, changed the curtains, cleaned every corner until it shone. I wanted my stage to be perfect.

Meanwhile, I maintained my friendship with Chloe. I texted her often, asking how she was, and occasionally I would casually complain:

“Preparing for this party is exhausting. I have to take care of everything from A to Z with no help from anyone.”

Chloe, hearing this, was sympathetic and comforted me. She didn’t know that my fake exhaustion was part of the plan to make her think I was too busy to pay attention to other things.

And then came the crucial moment. It was a Thursday afternoon, two days before the party. I knew that by habit, that was the day Chloe would hang her underwear out to dry on her balcony. She lived alone, so she was quite careless; her balcony directly faced my backyard, very easy to observe. I had been studying her routine all week.

As for Ethan, I knew he always had a spare set of underwear hidden in the bottom drawer of his dresser, just in case he had a rendezvous somewhere and it wasn’t convenient for him to come home. It took me quite a while to discover that secret.

I waited until around noon when the sun was high, making sure the clothes were dry. Under the pretext of pruning the plants, I went out into the garden. The garden was no longer my peaceful haven; it was a crime scene, an obsession. But today I went out with a completely different mindset. There was no more pain, only a cold determination.

I looked up at Chloe’s balcony. As expected, her seductive black lace lingerie set was hanging on the line, swaying in the wind like a provocation. Calmly, I went to the utility shed and took out a very long clothes-retrieving pole. My heart beat a little faster, not out of fear, but out of excitement.

I went back to the garden, positioned myself in a hidden corner where the neighborhood security cameras couldn’t reach me. Carefully, I used the pole to skillfully unhook Chloe’s set. Everything went better than I expected.

With the proof of betrayal in my hands, I went straight to the downstairs powder room. I put on rubber gloves and opened the bottle of itching powder. The characteristic smell hit my nose, making me sneeze, but I didn’t stop.

I meticulously sprinkled a thick layer of powder on the inside of Chloe’s bra and panties, especially in the most sensitive areas. I did it carefully, with a steady hand, like an artist completing their masterpiece. Every particle of powder clung to the lace, looking like a lethal decoration.

Finished with Chloe’s clothes, I stealthily went up to the master bedroom. Ethan hadn’t come home from work yet. I opened the bottom drawer and took out his secret underwear. I did the same, not missing a single millimeter. Contemplating my two creations, I smiled with satisfaction. The irritating gift was ready.

The last step was to return everything to its place. I used the pole again to carefully hang Chloe’s set back on the line. It looked exactly the same as before, with no sign of having undergone a terrible treatment.

As for Ethan’s set, I put it back in the drawer, as neat as if no one had touched it. I took off the gloves, washed my hands thoroughly with soap several times, erasing any trace.

Everything was done. That afternoon, from time to time I glanced towards Chloe’s balcony, waiting. Around 4:00 in the afternoon, I saw her come out to collect her laundry. She took her underwear without the slightest suspicion and brought it inside.

I felt an indescribable satisfaction. The trap was set, the poison applied. Now I just had to wait for the prey to fall. I imagined the scene to come, the pain and agony those two were about to suffer, and I didn’t feel a shred of guilt.

You reap what you sow, and this storm would not only be irritating but also incredibly humiliating. I wondered if they would have the strength to endure it, or if they would expose themselves in front of everyone. The best act of the play was yet to come.

After completing the preparation, my mood became strangely calm. I no longer felt anger or pain; instead, there was a cold anticipation, like a hunter who has set a trap and patiently waits for their prey to fall.

Friday, the day before the party, passed slowly. I spent the whole day on the final preparations. I called the caterer to confirm the delivery time. I personally prepared some elaborate desserts, the ones Ethan used to love. I did everything mechanically. My mind was no longer there; it was flying towards the next day, towards that fateful party.

Ethan came home quite early, looking tired but also excited. He hugged me, inhaling the aroma of freshly baked pastries coming from the kitchen.

“Wow, you’re up early today, my love,” he said, his voice sleepy.

Wait, that was the next morning. Ethan came home Friday night looking tired. He said:

“What a diligent wife I have. How are the preparations going?”

“Almost everything is ready, honey. Tomorrow is just the cooking,” I replied in my usual soft voice.

He didn’t notice anything strange about me. In his eyes, I was still the good, docile wife dedicated to the kitchen.

That night, I began the most important task: sending the invitations. Of course, they were not ordinary invitations. I had drafted a formal text message and sent it to each person on the list my mother-in-law had given me.

Dear aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. We would like to invite you to celebrate with us this weekend at our home. We’ve had a small success at work and want to share it with the family over an intimate meal.

I sent the message to all of Ethan’s relatives, both paternal and maternal. I didn’t leave anyone out, especially the figures of authority and weight in the family, like the eldest uncle or the great-aunt. I knew that the more important people were present, the greater Ethan’s humiliation would be.

But my main goal was not just that. I needed a more special audience. I searched my contacts for Chloe’s parents’ number. I had gotten it once when she left her phone at my house under the pretext of being her best friend. I saved the number just in case, and now was the time.

I drafted another message with a kind and respectful tone:

Good afternoon. This is Olivia, a good friend of Chloe’s here in the city. This weekend I’m hosting a small party at my house. I know you don’t often come up, so I’m taking this opportunity to invite you to come, and while you’re at it, surprise Chloe. She’s been a bit lonely lately and would surely love to see you. Don’t worry about travel or accommodation expenses; it’s all on me.

I knew that with such a sincere and attractive invitation, they would hardly refuse. A free trip to the city and a party at a luxury house was a unique opportunity. And as I predicted, just 15 minutes later, Chloe’s mother called me back, her voice full of joy, thanking me profusely and accepting immediately.

I hung up the phone with a satisfied smile. My stage now had all the important actors: the traitor’s family, the mistress’s family, and a large gathering of relatives would be the most impartial judges.

I didn’t just invite the family; I also accidentally dropped information about the party to a couple of journalist friends. I only hinted that this weekend there was a big party at my house to celebrate my husband’s promotion and that important business figures would be attending. With the press’s nose for news, I knew they wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to get exclusive stories or new connections.

That night, I lay in bed next to Ethan, who was sleeping soundly. He had no idea that the woman beside him had woven a web from which neither he nor his little mistress could escape.

I couldn’t sleep. In my head, I visualized the next day’s scene. I imagined my mother-in-law’s face when she saw her golden boy humiliated. I imagined Chloe’s parents’ faces when they discovered that their good, obedient daughter was the other woman destroying a family. And I imagined the faces of Ethan and Chloe when the physical pain and moral humiliation hit them at the same time.

Thinking about it, I felt no glee, but an icy void. I once loved this man; I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. But he himself had destroyed it all. I didn’t want this war, but once it started, I had to be the victor.

Tomorrow it would all be over. Either I would reclaim my honor, or I would sink with them to the bottom of ignominy. But I was confident that divine justice existed; those who do wrong sooner or later pay for it.