Month: October 2024

When my grandmother left me $50,000, I thought it was the fresh start my husband Jason and I needed after years of heartbreak and infertility struggles. But little did I know, his mother Sharon had her eyes on my

“It finally happened,” I said softly, still trying to wrap my mind around the moment.

Jason looked up from his phone, half-interested. “What did?”

I held the letter close to my chest. It was a simple piece of paper, but it carried so much weight. “The money came through. Grandma’s inheritance—fifty thousand dollars. We could finally start looking for a house.”

Jason blinked, setting his phone down on the arm of the couch. “Oh, wow. That’s great.”

We’d been married for five years, and they hadn’t been easy years. Infertility had tested us—rounds of treatments, countless doctors, and the endless emotional rollercoaster of hope and heartbreak. It was hard not to feel like everything we wanted was always slipping just out of reach.

But now, with the inheritance, it felt like we could finally move forward. We could leave behind the constant disappointment and start fresh.

The next morning, I made the mistake of mentioning the inheritance while we were visiting Sharon, my mother-in-law.

“Fifty thousand?” Sharon repeated, her eyes lighting up in a way that made my skin crawl. “Well, isn’t that something! What a blessing.”

“It really is,” I said cautiously. “We’ve been wanting to buy a house for so long, and this will help us finally get there.”

“Oh, a house, sure.” Sharon smiled, but there was something sly in her expression. “That’s wonderful, honey. But, you know…” She trailed off, smoothing a strand of her over-bleached hair behind her ear. “Jason and I were just talking the other day. I’ve been thinking about getting a little facelift. You know, tighten things up a bit.”

I forced a smile, hoping to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. “Oh? You’ve been saying that for years.”

She gave me a knowing smile. “Well, it feels like the right time now. And I deserve it, don’t I?”

“You look great, Sharon,” I said politely, hoping that would end it.

That evening, Jason was unusually quiet, his face buried in his phone. I could tell something was weighing on him, but I didn’t want to push. He’d always had trouble standing up to his mother, and I knew these conversations about her facelift were probably stressing him out.

Later, I walked past the living room and overheard him on the phone, his voice low and careful.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll handle it.”

A few days later, I found Sharon sprawled on our couch, flipping through a glossy magazine filled with photos of women who didn’t look a day over thirty.

“Hey, Sharon,” I greeted her, forcing a smile.

She barely glanced up. “Oh, hi, sweetheart. Just doing a little research. It’s about time I did something for myself.”

I glanced at the headline on the page she was reading: “The Best Facelift Clinics Near You.”

I nodded slowly, fighting the uneasy feeling settling in my stomach. “Jason’s okay with this?”

“Oh, Jason thinks it’s a great idea!” she said, grinning.

My chest tightened. Something was definitely off.

That night, Jason came into the kitchen while I was washing dishes, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Guess what?” he said, leaning on the counter.

“What?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“Mom booked her facelift! Next week.”

I froze, my hands still in the warm water. “You’re serious?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yep. She’s really excited.”

“You didn’t think to discuss this with me first?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Jason gave me an annoyed look. “It’s not like we’re paying for it.”

I felt a wave of relief, but it was short-lived. Something told me it wasn’t that simple.

A few days later, as I was going through some papers at the dining table, I saw it: the bank statement.

My hands trembled as I scanned the page.

A $10,000 withdrawal.

From my inheritance account.

Jason walked in just as I set the paper down, my hands shaking with anger.

“You took ten thousand dollars?” I asked, my voice dangerously low.

Jason looked at me like I was overreacting. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” I repeated, my voice rising. “That was for our house, Jason!”

He shrugged. “It’s just a little help for Mom. She needed it.”

“She needed it?” I could hardly believe my ears. “What about us? What about our plans? You didn’t even ask me!”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. It’s just money.”

I stared at him, stunned by how casually he dismissed my dreams.

That night, after Jason went to bed, I sat alone in the living room, fuming. He thought he could take my money, brush it off, and get away with it.

But he was wrong.

This wasn’t over.

An idea sparked—a mischievous, deliciously wicked plan. If Sharon wanted to look young so badly, I would make sure she got all the attention she craved.

I created a fake Instagram account that night, complete with a profile photo of a glowing, fresh-faced woman who could pass as an influencer in the beauty world. I named her “Kendra” and filled the bio with hashtags like #YouthfulGlow, #MomGoals, and #AgelessStyle.

I tagged Jason in a couple of the posts—just subtle enough to get his attention but not so much that he would suspect anything. I imagined the way he’d glance at his phone, confused by the notifications, and maybe even think I’d finally come around to supporting his mom’s obsession.

Once the profile had a handful of posts and some traction, it was time to go in for the kill. I sent Sharon a private message, pretending to be Kendra.

“Hi, Sharon! I heard from Jason that you’re thinking about a facelift 💕 I’d love to connect you with a clinic offering exclusive discounts this month. They have a ‘Bring a Friend’ special where you get 20% off if you refer someone! 😘 #MommyMakeover”

It didn’t take long for her to bite. Within an hour, she responded.

“Sounds amazing!! Tell me more about the discount.”

I grinned. Hook, line, and sinker.

I fed her more nonsense, going on about the “VIP experience” and “limited-time offers,” all while stifling the urge to laugh out loud. The best part? She ate up every word, thrilled by the idea that she was getting something exclusive.

With everything in place, it was time to move on to the grand finale—the send-off party.

The day of Sharon’s “transformation” arrived, and I threw myself into preparing for the event. I turned our living room into a shrine of ridiculousness.

I printed huge posters with Sharon’s face edited onto airbrushed models—women with exaggerated cheekbones, enormous lips, and impossibly smooth skin. Beneath the images, I added captions like, “From Mom to Model!” and “Finally Ready for the Spotlight!”

Guests began to arrive, drawn by the promise of an afternoon of celebration. Jason greeted everyone, grinning like a proud son. He had no idea what was coming.

Eventually, he strolled into the living room, taking in the decorations for the first time. His face darkened as he studied the posters. The moment the absurdity hit him—his mother’s photos plastered everywhere, her name tied to all these over-the-top beauty jokes—I saw the panic spread across his features.

“You… You can’t be serious,” he whispered.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” I said, savoring his discomfort.

Just then, Sharon made her grand entrance. She walked into the room, expecting applause and excitement. But as soon as her eyes landed on the posters—her face grotesquely altered, plastered on every wall—her smile froze.

The room went silent for a moment. Then came the awkward chuckles. A few guests tried to stifle their laughter, but it was no use. The absurdity was too much to contain.

Jason’s friends were the first to crack, teasing him mercilessly. “Man, you really went all out for your mom, huh? Helping her live her best life!”

“Dude, those posters! I mean, wow… You must be so proud.”

Jason’s face flushed a deep red as he struggled to control his growing embarrassment.

Meanwhile, Sharon stood frozen, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“This is outrageous!” she finally shrieked. “Jason, do something!“

But Jason was paralyzed, caught between the humiliation and the realization that I had played him and his mother perfectly.

After the party guests trickled out, the house fell into an awkward silence. Jason sat on the edge of the couch, head in his hands. Sharon stormed out without a word, her face still twisted with fury.

Jason looked up at me, his voice low. “Why would you do that?”

I folded my arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Because you thought you could take my money, lie to me, and get away with it. This was never just about the money, Jason. It was about trust.”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking more defeated than I’d ever seen him. “I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“It’s too late for sorry,” I said firmly. “You broke something that can’t be fixed.”

The next morning, I called a lawyer. By the end of the week, the divorce papers were filed.

I took back what was left of my inheritance and started fresh, without Jason or Sharon dragging me down.

Recent photos of Pierce Brosnan’s stepson sparked a wave of reactions online. Users expressed concern, calling his situation “sad” as they commented on his shocking appearance. See the images that have everyone talking.

Christopher Brosnan, the stepson of legendary actor Pierce Brosnan, has had a complicated journey. After the death of his mother, Pierce did his best to be there for him but ultimately had to make the difficult decision to cut Christopher off.

Now, 20 years later, recent street photos of the actor’s stepson have surfaced, sparking reactions from social media users. See the astonishing images that caused some to leave critical comments for the iconic star’s stepson.

Pierce’s Complex Family Life

Pierce is a beloved Hollywood actor known for his charming roles, most famously his portrayal of the suave spy James Bond. But, beyond the glitz and glamour of the film industry, the actor has faced significant challenges in his personal life, particularly when it came to his family.

The actor’s first wife, Cassandra Harris, played a pivotal role in shaping his family life. When the couple married in 1980, she already had two children, Charlotte and Christopher, from her previous marriage to British producer Dermot Harris.

The couple went on to welcome their son, Sean Brosnan, in 1984. After the father of his wife’s children passed away in 1986, Pierce adopted both children, solidifying his bond with them and creating a blended family that seemed close-knit and loving.

Tragedy struck the family in 1991 when Cassandra lost her battle with ovarian cancer, a devastating event that left a lasting impact on all of them. A widowed father, the celebrity was tasked with raising their children while balancing his acting career.

“I don’t look at the cup as half full, believe me,” the Hollywood star said following his wife’s passing. The pain resurfaced years later in 2013 when his daughter Charlotte also succumbed to the same illness, bringing back painful memories for Pierce.

Pierce openly shared his grief during this difficult time, saying, “On June 28 at 2 p.m., my darling daughter Charlotte Emily passed on to eternal life, having succumbed to ovarian cancer.”

Despite the overwhelming heartbreak, the actor found love again, and in 2001, he married Keely Shaye Smith, a television personality who later became a renowned environmental activist and documentarian.

The couple welcomed two sons, Dylan and Paris, expanding the family further. Pierce cherished his role as a father and acknowledged the complexities of raising boys.

“I know what it’s like to bring up sons, and it can be a very arduous road. My fatherly instincts are purely my own. They relate back to no one because there was no one,” he shared. Sadly, one of his sons ended up being estranged.

The Estranged Son – Christopher’s Journey and Struggles

Through their mourning of Cassandra, the Brosnan family became closer than ever. “You just feel more deeply now. You hug more deeply, you love more deeply,” Pierce said.

The actor ensured he spent time with his sons, playing with them, taking them to the beach, or inviting friends over for swimming parties. But, he knew that their grief would linger for a while.

As the family navigated their grief, the celebrity became acutely aware of the emotional weight his children carried. So he kept an eye on them, allowing them to see him weep, and showed them that even though he was

He admitted, “I can see the pain in Christopher’s eyes, the absence in his heart for his mother.” For a time, the star’s stepson tried to follow in his stepfather’s footsteps, pursuing a career in film and enrolling in a screenwriting course at UCLA.

He even worked on some of Pierce’s films, such as “GoldenEye” and “Tomorrow Never Dies.” But, despite his early promise, Christopher struggled with addiction, which eventually led to the actor cutting him off.

Pierce had always been open about the challenges addiction brought to his family, especially for his stepson. He explained that addiction appeared to have genetic roots, noting that both Charlotte and Christopher’s biological

While Charlotte eventually found her way to recovery, her brother’s path was much harder. Pierce expressed his deep concern over his stepson’s struggles, saying that Christopher was “still very lost. Shockingly so.”

The situation came to a head when Pierce had to make the difficult decision to distance himself from his son. “It’s painful because you shut down. You never completely cut them off, but I have to cut Christopher off. I had to say ‘Go. Get busy living, or get busy dying,'” he elaborated.

Although the decision pained him, Pierce revealed it was necessary due to Christopher’s ongoing battle with addiction. “For all his waywardness and addiction, I adore Christopher and just want him well and healthy,” he confessed. Despite cutting him off, the actor’s love for his stepson remained evident.

In 2022, despite their strained relationship, Pierce took to Instagram on Father’s Day to express his love for all of his sons, including Christopher. His caption read, “My love forever to you dear sons, Paris, Dylan, Sean, and Christopher, thank you deeply for your love ❤️ on this Father’s Day.”

His public message demonstrated that even though Christopher had faced challenges, Pierce had never truly stopped caring for him. In later years and recent ones, the celebrity’s estranged stepson was seen out and about and criticized.

Netizens React to Seeing Christopher Now

Christopher was eventually spotted in 2019, and the sighting led to speculation about how he had been living after years of estrangement.

In June 2024, Christopher reappeared in public once again, sparking a reaction on social media. His appearance left fans buzzing, with many commenting on how the star’s stepson looked after so many years away from the spotlight.

“You tricked me!” Instead of celebrating our newborn twin daughters, my husband lashed out and accused me of cheating on him. With venomous words and a cruel exit, Mark shattered our family. Now, I’m going to make him pay the price for abandoning us.

I lay in the sterile white hospital bed, my heart full though my body ached. I was exhausted, but it all felt worthwhile as I stared down at the beautiful twin girls pressed to each of my sides.

The babies cooed softly and tears of joy spilled down my face. After years of infertility and a long, difficult pregnancy, I was finally a mom. It was the best feeling in the world!

I reached for my phone and typed a message to Mark, my husband: They’re here. Two beautiful girls. Can’t wait for you to meet them.

I hit send, a contented smile creeping across my face as I imagined his excitement.

This was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of our lives, and I never could’ve imagined how swiftly it would turn into the worst.

A while later, the door clicked open, and there he was. But instead of joy, Mark’s expression was unreadable — stony, like a man called into a meeting he didn’t want to attend.

“Hey,” I said softly, mustering a smile. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

Mark finally looked at the twins, his jaw tightening. Disappointment flickered across his face before his lips curled in disgust.

“What the hell is this?” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

Confusion welled inside me, pressing heavily against my ribs. “What do you mean? They’re our daughters! What’s going on with you, Mark?”

His gaze turned sharp.

I could see the anger simmering beneath the surface, ready to explode. And when it did, it was like a dam breaking.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on: you tricked me!” he snarled. “You didn’t tell me you were having girls!”

I blinked, stunned. “What does it matter? They’re healthy. They’re perfect!”

I reached for his hand, desperate to tether him to this moment. But he yanked it away, disgust etched across his face like a bad tattoo.

“It matters a lot! This isn’t what I wanted, Lindsey! I thought we were having boys!” His voice rose, bouncing off the cold walls, and I felt every syllable slice through me. “This whole family was supposed to carry on my name!”

My heart sank. “You’re serious? You’re angry because… they’re girls?”

“Darn right, I am!” He stepped back like the sight of the babies physically repelled him. “Everyone knows only boys can carry on a legacy! You… you cheated on me, didn’t you? These can’t be mine.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Air escaped my lungs as if he’d knocked it clean out of me.

“How could you even say that?” I whispered, tears blurring my vision. “You’re really accusing me of cheating because I had daughters?”

But he was already pacing toward the door, his hands clenching and unclenching in frustration.

“I’m not raising someone else’s kids,” he spat, his voice thick with finality. “I’m out.”

Before I could respond — before I could beg or scream or cry — he was gone. The door slammed shut behind him with a deafening thud. And just like that, everything I thought I knew unraveled.

I looked down at my daughters, cradled in my arms, their tiny faces serene.

“It’s okay, sweethearts,” I whispered, though my heart felt anything but okay.

And for the first time since they were born, I began to cry.

Mark disappeared. No calls. No messages. The only word I got of him was a rumor filtering through mutual friends that he was on vacation somewhere sunny, drinking cocktails with the same guys who toasted us at our wedding.

That’s right; he dumped me and went on vacation. It wasn’t just the betrayal. It was the ease with which he walked away, as though our life together had been a minor inconvenience.

But the worst was yet to come.

I was back at home, settling into a routine with the girls, when I got the first message from Mark’s mother, Sharon.

I was so relieved! Sharon was a stern woman, and I knew Mark would have to come around if his mother was on my side.

My fingers shook with anticipation as I played Sharon’s voicemail. Her voice dripped through my phone like venom.

“You ruined everything,” Sharon snarled. “Mark deserved sons, everyone knows that. How could you do this to him? To our family? How could you betray my son like this?”

I was so shocked, and I dropped my phone. Her words cut deeper than any insult. To them, I hadn’t just had daughters, but I had failed. And they wanted to punish me for it.

I stared down at my phone, trying to process this new avenue of attack.

I jumped when my phone started ringing. It was Sharon. I let it ring and watched as a new voicemail notification popped up after the ringing stopped.

Then the text messages started rolling in, each one more vicious than the last. Sharon called me every name under the sun as she lambasted me for cheating on Mark, for giving birth to daughters, for not being a good wife… it went on and on.

Mark’s entire family had turned against me. I was all alone.

I tried to keep it together, but the nursery became my sanctuary and prison at night. I’d sit in the rocking chair, holding my daughters close, whispering promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.

“I’ll keep you safe,” I murmured repeatedly, the words as much for me as for them. “We’ll be okay. Everything is going to turn out just fine, you’ll see.”

But there were nights I wasn’t so sure. Some nights, the weight of loneliness and fear pressed down so hard I thought I might break.

On one of those nights, I found myself weeping as I fed the girls. It all felt like too much to bear.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I sobbed. “It’s too hard. I can’t keep waiting…”

And that’s when it hit me. All this time, I’d been waiting for Mark to come around and to see sense, but he’d done nothing to make me believe that might happen. He hadn’t even called.

I looked down at my girls and knew it was time I stood up for them and myself.

A lawyer gave me the first glimmer of hope.

“With Mark’s abandonment,” she said, tapping a pen thoughtfully on her desk, “you have a strong case. Full custody. Child support. We’ll take care of visitation on your terms.”

Her words were a balm to my shattered spirit. Finally, I had some control and something to fight with. And I wasn’t going to stop there.

Mark wanted out? Fine. I was happy to divorce the jerk, but he wouldn’t get to walk away unscathed.

I created a new social media profile, one carefully curated to tell the story I wanted people to see.

Post after post showed my daughters’ milestones: tiny hands grasping for toys, gummy smiles, and their first giggles. Each photo was a slice of happiness, and in every caption, there was an undeniable truth: Mark wasn’t part of it.

Friends shared the posts, family members left comments, and soon, the updates spread like wildfire through our circle. Mark might have left, but I was building something beautiful without him.

The open house was my final act of defiance. I invited everyone. The only person not welcome was Mark. And just to twist the knife, I made sure the invite said so.

My house brimmed with warmth and laughter on the big day. The twins wore matching outfits with tiny bows perched on their soft heads. Guests gushed over how beautiful they were.

Then the door flew open, and there was Mark, furious and wild-eyed. The room fell silent.

“What the hell is this?” he barked. “You’ve turned everyone against me!”

I stood, my heart pounding but steady. “You abandoned us, Mark, because you didn’t want daughters. You made your choice.”

“You robbed me of my chance to pass down my family legacy!” He retorted, eyes blazing.

“You’re not welcome here,” I said, my voice calm and almost pitying. “We don’t want or need a man like you in our family. This is my life now.”

Friends closed ranks around me, their presence a silent but powerful force. Defeated and humiliated, Mark turned on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

Weeks later, Mark received the court papers detailing the child support, custody, and visitation arrangements. There was no escape. He’d still have to accept the responsibility of being a father, even if he was never going to be a dad to our girls.

Then came Sharon’s final message — an apology, maybe, or more bitter words. It didn’t matter. I deleted it without reading it.

I was done with their family and done with the past.

And as I rocked my daughters that night, the future stretched wide open before us: bright, untouchable, and ours alone.

Here’s another story: After a week away, I came home to the strange and unsettling sight of my kids sleeping on the cold hallway floor. Heart pounding, I searched for answers, only to find my husband missing and odd noises coming from the kids’ room. What I uncovered next left me furious — and ready for a fight! Click here to keep reading.

When Lisa’s husband, Tom, starts hounding her about getting a second job, she becomes suspicious of his reasoning. Finally, fed up with his nagging, Lisa gets a job. Once there, Lisa learns a horrible truth about her husband.

In our home, I’m the one who makes more money. It hadn’t been an issue before, but recently, my husband Tom has been pressuring me to take a second job.

“You don’t even leave the house to work, so you cannot possibly be as tired as I am at the end of the day,” Tom said.

“But you’re a mechanic, Tom,” I retaliated. “You run your own business. And you take three days off just because you have people to do the job.”

“Let’s just table this conversation,” he said dismissively.

And for a few weeks, we did table the conversation. I hoped that he wouldn’t bring it up again because I couldn’t understand why it was even a conversation.

“Are you struggling financially, Lisa?” my mother asked me when I told her about Tom’s suggestion over a mother-daughter pasta date.

“No, not at all,” I replied. “Look, we’re not difficult people, we’re not fancy, so our lives are easy to manage and sustain. It’s the fact that Tom was really pushing for this.”

“Do you think his business isn’t doing well?” she asked, sipping on her drink.

“That can’t be it,” I replied. “I’ve seen the number of cars that come in and out on a weekly basis. It’s enough to turn a profit. And he’s been employing new staff constantly. That’s also a good thing.”

“Then what is it?” my mother asked.

“I have no idea,” I said, adding more grated parmesan onto my pasta. “But I do know that I don’t have the time for a second job. I cook and clean in between sitting at my laptop. I do groceries during my lunch breaks, and I take the dogs to the vet or whatever during those times, too. I just can’t see it working out.”

“You have to tell him, darling,” my mother said. “You have to make it known that you cannot take on an added responsibility that’s going to leave your cup empty.”

Everything was fine until we decided that it would be better to sell my car and buy a new one.

“I told you, Lisa,” Tom said over dinner one night. “You need to get that second job.”

He cut into his steak, his knife grating against the fork.

“Why me?” I asked, incredulous. “I already work long hours, and my job is exhausting. I have to look at a screen the entire day and pay attention. By the end of the day, my eyes are sore and my brain is exhausted. And then I have to worry about dinner and laundry and everything else.”

“Your job is easy, Lisa,” he replied. “You’re trying to make it seem worse than it is. You work from home, remember? You don’t have to leave this house. And you don’t get as tired as I do because you’re not getting beneath cars every single day.”

I was stunned.

“Why don’t you get another job? You can do it on the days you have off!”

“Because, then, Lisa,” he said slowly, as if speaking to a child, “I’d miss bowling with my friends!”

He said it as if it was the most logical reason in the world.

Seriously? It was the stupidest reason in the world to me.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll look around.”

My husband looked as though Christmas had come early.

“Good,” he said. “That settles it.”

I watched as he picked up his plate and left it on the kitchen counter, not even trying to empty the rest of the food into the garbage.

If he wanted me to find a second job, I would. But I knew that he would hate what I had in mind.

The next day, as Tom left for work, he popped his head into my home office.

“Don’t forget to start looking for a job,” he said. “And try harder with my work overalls, Lisa. There are some grease stains that refuse to come out. It’s embarrassing.”

With that, he walked out.

“Goodbye to you, too,” I muttered as he walked away.

Then, I went onto the bowling alley website. It was the place that Tom and his friends played at. I had always wondered why they frequented the little place because it was dark and unwelcoming to me.

“Oh, come on, Lisa,” Jill said. “We both know that Tom and Marcus go for the waitresses in the short dresses.”

Marcus was Tom’s best friend, and Jill was his wife. Once, we had all been invited to the bowling alley for the venue’s anniversary, and after Jill and I saw the place, we never went back.

My plan was simple: get a job at the bowling alley for the night shifts and make my husband jealous enough to regret his suggestion.

On my first day at the bowling alley, a Wednesday, which was the weekly bowling night for Tom and his friends, I asked him if he was going bowling.

“Are you going to the bowling alley tonight? Do you want to have dinner at home before you go?” I asked casually, as I made some breakfast.

“Yeah, probably,” he said, not looking up from his phone. “Make some fish and chips or something like that.”

“Fine,” I said with a smile. “See you there!”

His eyes finally met mine, confusion flickering across his face, but he shrugged it off.

“Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for,” I said to myself as he walked out the door.

That evening, I arrived at the bowling alley in my new uniform: a tight, short dress that left little to the imagination. I couldn’t imagine that my husband would be fine with me wearing such a thing.

“I’m sorry about the uniform,” Ursula, the manager, said. “I’ve tried to make changes and even add stockings or leggings to it, but the owner is adamant that it stay like this.”

“That’s just a sick thought,” I said.

I tended the drink stall, occasionally leaning over to fry the miniature donuts that were quite popular among the teenagers bowling away.

I saw Tom arrive alone and start playing by himself. As the first hour went by and the teenagers began to leave to meet their curfews, the men began to get rowdy. As expected, the men began to hit on me.

Finally, my husband spotted me, his eyes darkening as he watched the attention.

“What the hell, Lisa?” Tom stormed over, eyes blazing. “What are you doing?”

“I’m working, Tom,” I said with a smirk. “You wanted me to get a second job, remember?”

“This isn’t what I meant!” he yelled.

“Well, I’m getting great tips,” I retorted.

My husband’s jaw clenched.

“Quit. Now,” he barked.

“We need the money,” I said, walking away to serve another table.

Tom went back to bowling, not wanting to cause a bigger scene. But I knew that the moment my shift was over, he would be back on the topic.

He kept glancing at me every few minutes.

About halfway through my shift, Ursula approached me.

“Is he bothering you too?” she asked, nodding toward Tom.

“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.

Ursula sighed a deep sigh.

“That man has seduced almost all the waitresses here. One even had his child two weeks ago. I heard that she’s after him for child support now. Apparently she did a paternity test to prove it and all.”

I knew that Ursula had no idea that I was married to Tom, so there wasn’t a need to lie or mask the truth. What she had just told me was a version of Tom that I didn’t know existed.

So, that’s why he wanted me to get a second job. He wanted me to pay for his child support.

I marched over to Tom, ignoring the eyes of the other patrons.

“You’re a disgusting human!” I screamed, slapping him hard across the face.

“What the hell, Lisa?” he yelled, holding his cheek.

“You’ve been involved with the waitresses here?! And one just had your baby?” I spat, tears streaming down my face.

Tom’s face went pale.

“I can explain,” he stammered.

“I don’t care,” I said. “I don’t want to hear it. You will pack your things and get out tonight. Tomorrow, I will file for divorce.”

I stormed out of the bowling alley, my heart shattered. Who was the man that I had married?

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

I Caught My Husband with His Mistress in a Hotel — This Is a Romantic Trip They Will Never Forget

When Eliza’s 10th wedding anniversary comes around, she hopes that Tom will take her away for a romantic getaway. But when he forgets about their anniversary and needs to work, she turns it into a girls’ weekend, only for her to see that Tom’s business trip is a rendezvous with his mistress.