When I found out my wife was cheating, instead of falling apart, I saw an opportunity. I never imagined that my plan to profit from her affair would lead me to question the true cost of freedom.
It wasn’t hard to figure out that Claire was cheating on me. The late-night texts, sudden work trips, and secretive phone calls were all obvious signs. But I didn’t confront her, and to be honest, I didn’t even feel much. After years of marriage, I was numb.
Divorce, though, terrified me. Financially, it would destroy me. I depended on Claire’s big salary to cover our life—rent, insurance, groceries, everything. So, I gritted my teeth and pretended everything was fine.
One day, while doing laundry, I found a crumpled credit card receipt in her jeans pocket. It was from a fancy restaurant, and the name on it was Alex M—.
“Oh, no way,” I muttered to myself in the empty laundry room. Suddenly, everything clicked. I knew who Alex was. He was a friend of Claire’s father, someone I’d met a few times at family gatherings.
I remembered Alex well. He was rich, a bit soft around the edges, and he always looked at Claire like she was the best thing on earth. At the time, I thought he was just being nice. Now? Now I knew better.
I sat down on the cold tile floor, clutching the receipt, and started laughing. But it wasn’t a happy laugh. It was the kind of laugh you’d hear from someone who’s just hit rock bottom.
“Tom?” Claire’s voice called down from upstairs. “Everything okay?”
I quickly shoved the receipt into my pocket. “Yeah, just… stubbed my toe,” I lied.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. My mind kept racing, thinking about Alex, Claire, and the sudden influx of cash in our lives. The new car she bought me for my birthday now made sense.
The next morning, after Claire left for “work,” I dug through her old phone. She’d always been careless with her passcode—4673, our anniversary. How ironic.
What I found made my stomach turn. There were old messages to Alex, filled with hearts and kisses. She’d texted her friends, gushing about how amazing he was. But then, I found something unexpected.
“I still love Tom,” she had written to one friend. “But we needed the money. Alex… he’s just a means to an end. Is that terrible?”
Her friend replied quickly, “Girl, you gotta do what you gotta do. But be careful. This could blow up in your face.”
I snorted. If only she knew.
Scrolling through more messages between Claire and Alex, it was clear that Alex was head over heels, while Claire was just stringing him along.
“I wish you’d leave him,” Alex wrote. “We could be so happy together.”
Claire’s reply was vague. “You know it’s complicated, Alex. Let’s just enjoy what we have.”
I set the phone down, my mind spinning. A crazy, brilliant idea started to form. Why not use this to my advantage?
I saved Alex’s number in my phone and waited, planning my next move.
A week later, I made the call. My heart pounded as I listened to the phone ring.
“Hello?” Alex’s voice was deep and confident.
I took a deep breath. “Alex? This is Tom, Claire’s husband.”
The silence on the other end was deafening. I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head.
Finally, he spoke. “Tom. What can I do for you?”
I got straight to the point. “I know about you and Claire. I know you’ve been paying our bills. I’m willing to walk away, file for divorce, and let you have her. But I need something from you.”
“And what’s that?” His voice was guarded now.
“Fifty thousand dollars. To start over.”
Another long pause. I could hear him breathing.
“Why would I give you money?” he asked, finally.
I laughed, a bitter, short laugh. “Because if I leave her and break her heart, she’ll finally be yours. I just need a fresh start. Think of it as… an investment in your future happiness.”
“You’d do that? Just walk away?” He sounded shocked.
“Alex, I checked out of this marriage a long time ago. I’m just looking for a way out that doesn’t leave me broke.”
He was quiet for so long I thought he’d hung up. Then, “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t think too long,” I warned. “Offer expires in 48 hours.”
I hung up before he could respond. My hands were shaking as I put the phone down. I’d done it. Now all I could do was wait.
The next two days were the longest of my life. Every time my phone buzzed, I jumped, expecting it to be Alex. But it was always someone else—a spam call, a text from my mom. Never Alex.
Claire noticed something was off. “You okay, honey?” she asked over dinner. “You seem distracted.”
I forced a smile. “Just work stuff. Nothing to worry about.”
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Once, that gesture had been comforting. Now, it made my skin crawl. I pulled away, pretending I needed to refill my water glass.
As the 48-hour mark approached, I started to panic. What if Alex called my bluff? What if he told Claire? What if…
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
“Hello?” I answered, my voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s done,” Alex said. “Check your account.”
I fumbled for my laptop, logging into my bank account with shaking fingers. And there it was: $50,000. Just like that.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Just… take care of her, okay?” I added, almost pleading.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. That Claire was using him just like she’d used me. Instead, I just said, “Goodbye, Alex,” and hung up.
I sat there for a long time, staring at the computer screen. $50,000. My ticket to freedom. My chance at a new life.
I heard Claire’s car pull into the driveway. It was time.
I was sitting on the couch when she walked in. A folder of divorce papers was on the coffee table in front of me.
“Tom?” Her voice was shaky. “What’s going on?”
I looked up at her, really looked at her for the first time in months. She was still beautiful, but I felt nothing.
“It’s over, Claire,” I said calmly. “I know about Alex.”
Her face went white. “Tom, I can explain…”
I held up a hand. “Don’t bother. I don’t want explanations. I want a divorce.”
She stood up, took a few steps away, and then collapsed into the armchair across from me. “But… what about money? The apartment? Our life?”
I smiled, and for the first time in years, it was genuine. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.”
As I walked out of that apartment for the last time, a duffel bag slung over my shoulder, I felt lighter than I had in years. Claire was sobbing behind me, begging me to stay, to talk. But I was done talking.
I checked into a cheap motel that night, lying on the lumpy bed and staring at the water-stained ceiling. My phone kept buzzing—Claire, Alex, Claire again. I ignored them all.
In the morning, I’d start looking for a new place to live, a new job, a new life. But for now, I just lay there, feeling the weight of the past few years slowly lift off my chest.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, my phone buzzed one more time. Against my better judgment, I checked it.
It was from Claire: “I’m sorry. I really did love you.”
I stared at the message for a long time before typing out a reply: “I know. But sometimes love isn’t enough.” I hit send and then turned off my phone. Tomorrow was a new day, and for the first time in years, I was actually looking forward to it.
What would you have done?
