How many nights had I prayed for a miracle while he was probably planning something with his secret lover? I didn’t go home that evening. Hidden in the parking lot, I waited, my phone ready to record the truth.
I knew his mistress would visit. Sure enough, the woman in the leather coat appeared, moving through the hospital with the confidence of someone who belonged there. This time, I quietly followed her, keeping just close enough to hear.
Their voices drifted through the ward’s partially open door. “Everything’s arranged,” she said, her tone businesslike. “Once you’re declared dead, the insurance money will be transferred offshore.
We can start our new life.”
Eric’s response was eager and delighted. “That’s awesome, Victoria. Dr.
Matthews came through perfectly. Cost me a fortune to get him to fake the diagnosis, but it was worth it. A few more days of this act, and we’re free.
Diana won’t suspect a thing. She’s already planning my funeral.”
“The mourning widow whose husband is very much alive!” Victoria chuckled softly. “You should have seen her face when she visited me today.
So concerned and so loving. It’s almost sad, poor thing!” Eric laughed. “She was always dumb,” Victoria replied, and I heard the smirk in her voice.
“But that’s what made her perfect for this. Once you’re ‘dead,’ she’ll get the insurance payout, and we’ll transfer it all before she knows what hit her. Then it’s just you and me, darling.”
The casual cruelty of their words cut deeper than any sharp blade.
Fifteen years of marriage reduced to a con job. Agony filled my eyes, but it wasn’t the time for tears. It was time for payback.
I recorded everything on my phone, my mind already forming a plan. They wanted to play games? Fine.
I could play games too. The next day, I made calls. Lots of calls.
To family, friends, coworkers — anyone who’d ever cared about Eric. My voice broke at just the right moments as I delivered the news: “His condition has worsened dramatically. The doctors say it’s time to say goodbye.
Please come today. He’d want you all here.”
By evening, Eric’s room was packed. His parents stood by his bed, his mother sobbing quietly into a handkerchief.
Colleagues murmured condolences. Friends from college shared memories of better days. Eric played his part, looking appropriately weak and grateful for the support, though I could see panic beginning to creep into his eyes as more people arrived.
I waited until the room was full before stepping forward. My hands weren’t shaking anymore. “Before we say our final goodbyes,” I announced, my eyes boring into Eric’s, “there’s something you all need to see.
My dear husband, bless his ‘dying’ soul, has been keeping a huge secret from all of us…”
Eric’s eyes widened. “Diana, what are you doing?”
I connected my laptop to the room’s TV screen. The footage began to play: Eric, very much alive, embracing his mistress, Victoria.
Then, the phone recording of their conversation about faking his death, bribing Dr. Matthews, and stealing the insurance money. The room erupted in chaos.
His mother’s sobs turned to screams of rage. “How could you do this to us? To your wife?”
His father had to be held back by two of Eric’s brothers.
Victoria chose that moment to arrive, stopping dead in the doorway as she realized their plan had crumbled to dust. November 27, 2024
December 03, 2024
November 27, 2024
The security arrived, followed by police. I watched as they led Eric away in handcuffs, his protests falling on deaf ears.
Dr. Matthews was also arrested, and his medical license was suspended pending investigation. Victoria tried to slip away but didn’t make it past the elevator.
I filed for divorce the very next day and returned to that bench outside the hospital, hoping to meet the thoughtful stranger who’d saved me from dealing with the biggest betrayal of my life. The same woman who’d warned me sat down beside me, this time with a small smile. “Thank you,” I said, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of endings and beginnings.
“You saved me from a different kind of grief.”
“I overheard them one night during my rounds. Couldn’t let them destroy your life. Sometimes the worst diseases aren’t the ones that kill you.
They’re the ones that silently grow in the hearts of those we love, feeding on our trust until there’s nothing left.”
I lost my husband, but not to cancer. I lost him to his greed and lies. But in losing him, I found something more valuable: my truth, my strength, and the knowledge that, sometimes, the kindness of strangers can save us from the cruelty of those we love most.
As I drove home that evening, my wedding ring sat in my pocket like a small, heavy reminder of everything I’d lost and everything I’d gained. The setting sun painted the sky in brilliant oranges and reds, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again. Sometimes, the end of one story is just the beginning of another.
Source: amomama
