“I just didn’t want to burden you with the decision. I thought…”
“You thought wrong,” I cut him off. I stared at him as my eyes searched for some hint of remorse.
Some sign that he realized just how much damage he’d done. But all I saw was a man who thought he’d done the right thing, even if it meant betraying his partner. That’s when I knew.
If Mark couldn’t see the problem here, I would have to make him see it. And I would have to do it in a way he’d never forget. The next morning, I woke up with a clear head and a sharper resolve than I’d felt in years.
Mark had crossed a line, and if he thought a half-hearted apology and some empty promises would fix this, he had another thing coming. I started by gathering information. You see, revenge isn’t about anger.
It’s about strategy. And my strategy required precision. First, I paid a visit to the county records office.
It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for. I was there for Melissa’s new country house, purchased outright with our hard-earned savings. That was the first time I saw the property.
It was a small but picturesque house with a neatly fenced yard. I made a copy of every document I could find and left without a shred of guilt. Next, I scheduled a meeting with the bank manager.
It turns out that Mark had made one critical oversight: while he’d emptied the bulk of our savings, he hadn’t closed the account entirely. There were still a few hundred dollars left, and more importantly, my name was still attached to the account. Legally, I had just as much claim to the funds and the assets they’d been used to purchase, as he did.
With the bank’s information in hand, I moved on to the next phase of my plan. I hired a lawyer, but it wasn’t just any lawyer. It was the best one in town.
A sharp, no-nonsense woman named Linda who had a reputation for leaving no stone unturned. “Let me get this straight,” Linda said during our first meeting. “Your husband used joint funds to buy a house for his mother, without your knowledge or consent?”
“That’s right,” I replied.
Linda’s eyes gleamed. “Well, that’s a textbook breach of fiduciary duty in a marriage. We can work with this.”
Over the next few weeks, Linda and I built our case.
In states that follow equitable distribution laws, any asset purchased during a marriage, even if it’s in someone else’s name, can be considered marital property if joint funds were used. Mark had no idea that his “investment” had essentially tied Melissa’s precious house to our divorce proceedings. While I worked quietly behind the scenes, Mark went about his days as though nothing had happened.
I guess he believed the storm had passed, and I let him think that. Two months later, everything was ready. The court proceedings had been tense, to say the least.
Mark had been served with the divorce papers and had hired his own lawyer, who tried to argue that the house was solely his mother’s property. But the evidence was undeniable. Our joint funds had been used to purchase the house, and as such, it was considered marital property.
The judge ultimately ruled that Mark’s actions had breached his responsibilities as a spouse by unilaterally using our savings without my consent. As part of the divorce settlement, I was granted half ownership of the property. Mark’s reaction in court was explosive.
As the judge ruled in my favor, he slammed his hands on the table, his face red with rage. “This is ridiculous!” he shouted, glaring at me like I’d betrayed him. His lawyer tried to calm him, but Mark’s fury only grew.
“You’re destroying this family, Jessica!” he spat as we left the courtroom. “Oh no, Mark,” I said coolly. “You did that all on your own.”
A few weeks later, I drove out to the country house while Melissa was out of town.
Over there, I met Steve, the man who wanted to purchase my half of the house. We finalized the deal right there, while Melissa and Mark had no idea what I was up to. A week later, Melissa returned and found Steve’s pickup truck parked in the driveway, three dogs lounging in the yard, and a bonfire pit smoldering in the back.
She called me, screaming, “What have you done?”
“I sold my half, Melissa,” I said calmly. “It’s not my problem anymore.”
Mark called next, ranting about “family betrayal,” but I hung up mid-sentence. Now divorced, I’ve never felt freer.
My revenge was complete, and for once, the cost was all theirs to bear. Do you have any opinions on this? Source: amomama
