I was sitting on the couch, Eric’s laptop balanced on my lap, scrolling through an online store, searching for a warm jacket for our son. Winter was coming fast, and he’d already outgrown last year’s coat. I was about to check out when a notification popped up in the corner of the screen.

“$800 transfer successful – Claire R.”

I frowned. Claire. My best friend. Why was Eric sending her money?

A chill ran down my spine as I clicked into our joint account, my hands suddenly trembling over the keyboard. A long list of transactions stared back at me. Hundreds of dollars. Sometimes over a thousand. All sent to Claire.

Every. Single. Month.

For seven months.

I felt my heart hammer against my ribs as I checked the details. All from our joint account. Not just Eric’s money—mine too. Money meant for our family. Money meant for our son.

The betrayal alone would have been enough to break me, but it wasn’t just the money. I knew Eric was lying to me, but I had to see how deep it went.

I opened his messages.

There they were. Lines and lines of texts between them.

Claire: “I wish I was your wife instead. I hate asking, but Jake cut my allowance again.”

Eric: “I love you. I want you to have everything you need. I’ll take care of you.”

I stared at the screen, my vision blurring. This wasn’t just an affair. It wasn’t just a fling. He was supporting her. My best friend. With our money.

A rush of rage hit me so hard I thought I might actually throw up. But I swallowed it down. Screaming wouldn’t help me. Accusations wouldn’t fix this.

I needed payback. And I needed it to hurt.

For the next two days, I pretended everything was normal. I kissed Eric goodbye in the mornings, answered Claire’s calls with the same enthusiasm as always, and even let her vent about Jake—her husband.

Jake.

I knew he had a temper, but not towards Claire. No, his anger had always been directed at anyone who disrespected their marriage. He adored her, worshipped the ground she walked on. I knew that because she never stopped bragging about it.

I decided he should know the truth.

I sent him a message. “Claire has a special surprise for you tomorrow. We’ll have a BBQ at our place, her secret recipe, your favorite. She would love it if you could be home early from work! Don’t tell her I mentioned it.”

Then, I went to work on Eric.

He was terrible with finances. He had no clue how to manage money, which was why I handled our bills. But he also had no idea that I had a separate, private account. Over the next two days, I transferred everything. Every last cent that was mine.

Then, I drained the joint account too. Not all of it—just enough to leave Eric scrambling but not enough to make him suspicious until it was too late.

On the morning of my plan, I kissed him extra hard before he left for work.

“I love you,” he murmured.

I smiled sweetly. “I love you too.”

Liar.

That evening, I told Eric I was heading out for a work event. I knew exactly where he’d be—at our place, with Claire, as usual.

At exactly 6:00 PM, I parked my car down the street from our house and waited.

Right on cue, Jake’s truck pulled up. He stepped out, still in his work clothes, looking exhausted but excited. My stomach twisted with anticipation.

He walked up to the door. Knocked once.

And then—

The door swung open, and there stood Claire. Wearing nothing but a silk robe.

Her eyes widened when she saw her husband.

Jake’s gaze flicked past her and straight into the house. His entire body tensed, fists clenching at his sides. Then—Eric appeared behind her, shirtless, a drink in his hand.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then Jake lost it.

I didn’t stay to watch the full explosion, but from what I heard later, it was magnificent. Screaming, things breaking, Claire crying, Eric stammering. Neighbors peeking out from their windows.

I drove away, feeling lighter than I had in months.

When I got home through the back door, I poured myself a glass of wine and waited. It didn’t take long.

Eric stormed in, his face red with anger.

“You set me up!” he roared. “You told Jake to come to our place?!”

I took a sip of my wine. “Did I?”

He stared at me, chest rising and falling as he processed it. Then his eyes narrowed.

“I saw the account, Lily,” he spat. “You emptied it!”

I set my glass down. “Actually, I only took what was mine. You were the one sending our money to Claire. I just corrected the balance.”

His face went pale.

“But don’t worry,” I said, standing up. “I left enough for you to figure out rent next month.”

His jaw clenched. “You can’t just take everything and leave me with nothing!”

I stepped closer, my voice calm. “Actually, I can. And I did.” I grabbed my bag and walked to the door. “I’d suggest calling Claire for help, but I’m guessing Jake won’t be paying her bills anymore.”

And with that, I walked out.

The divorce was swift. I had everything documented—his bank transfers, his messages to Claire, and even statements showing how much of our money went to her. The judge had zero sympathy for him.

Eric lost a lot. But Claire lost more.

Jake left her, and since she had no job and no secret savings, she was stuck struggling.

As for me?

I got full custody of my son. A fresh start. And every time I think back to that night—Claire in her silk robe, Jake’s face twisting in betrayal, and Eric standing there like an idiot—I smile.

Because they thought they could play me.

They thought I would cry and beg.

Instead, I let them destroy themselves.

And I walked away with everything.

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