Growing up, my father was the kind of man who believed in the power of a handshake. He believed that a man’s word was his bond, and trust was something earned, not given lightly. Dad drove the local bus for years and was known around town for being fair, kind, and hardworking. He taught me that integrity and honesty were the most important things in life, and that’s how I grew up—believing in people, trusting their word, and hoping for the best.
When I met my husband, Mark, I thought he was cut from the same cloth as my father. He came from a modest background, talked a lot about how much he respected people who worked hard, and always presented himself as someone you could rely on. In the early years of our marriage, I believed that we shared those same values—honesty, integrity, and trustworthiness. But I soon learned that not everything is as it seems.
About three years into our marriage, Mark started talking about wanting to open his own business. He had always worked in various odd jobs, but he said his dream was to run something of his own—specifically, a small construction company. I supported him fully, but there was a problem: we didn’t have the money to get it off the ground. We had savings, but it wasn’t nearly enough to cover the startup costs.
Mark seemed stressed for weeks. He would stay up late at night going over business plans, researching equipment, and figuring out how to make his dream come true. Then one night, he came up with what he thought was the perfect solution: he suggested asking my father for a loan.
At first, I was hesitant. My dad had worked his whole life, saved up his money for retirement, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about asking him to lend such a large amount. But Mark insisted. He said he just needed $30,000 to get started, and he promised he would pay it back as soon as the business became profitable.
I still wasn’t convinced, but Mark assured me this was his big break. He said, “Look, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t believe in myself. I know I can make this business work, and I’ll pay your dad back, no problem.”
So, I agreed, and together we approached my dad. I explained that Mark had a solid business plan, and although my father was hesitant at first, he eventually agreed to loan us the $30,000. He didn’t even ask for a contract—just a handshake and a promise that Mark would repay him within two years. My dad trusted us, trusted me, and believed that Mark would keep his word. That was the kind of man he was, always putting faith in people.
The loan was made, and Mark dove headfirst into starting his business. He bought equipment, hired a small crew, and began taking on jobs. For a while, things seemed to be going well. The business started bringing in money, and Mark was proud of what he had built. He was busy, but I was happy that he was living his dream.
But as the months went by, something started to change. The business wasn’t growing as fast as Mark had hoped, and the profits weren’t as high as he’d projected. He started working longer hours, becoming more distant, and growing more irritable. Whenever I brought up the loan from my father and asked when we would start repaying him, Mark would brush me off with vague responses like, “Soon, don’t worry about it,” or “I’ve got it under control.”
Two years passed, and not a single dollar had been repaid to my father. I was starting to get anxious, especially since my dad had never once brought it up. I knew he trusted us to do the right thing, but it was becoming increasingly clear to me that Mark had no intention of paying back the loan anytime soon.
One evening, I decided to confront Mark directly about it. I told him we couldn’t ignore the loan any longer, that it was time to start paying my father back. But to my shock, Mark responded with something I never expected: “What loan?”
I froze. I thought I had misheard him.
“The loan,” I repeated. “The $30,000 my dad gave us for the business. It’s been two years, Mark. We need to start paying him back.”
But Mark just shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “There was no loan,” he said. “Your dad gave us the money as a gift. He never expected it back.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I knew that wasn’t true. My father had made it clear that it was a loan, not a gift. We had all agreed on that. But here was my husband, denying the deal ever happened. I felt like the ground had shifted beneath me.
I tried to reason with him, reminding him of the conversations we’d had with my dad, the promises he made. But Mark just dug in deeper, insisting that I was mistaken, that my father had never expected the money to be repaid. I knew he was lying, but I didn’t understand why. What had happened to the man I thought I knew?
Days turned into weeks, and Mark continued to deny the existence of the loan. I was stuck in the middle, torn between loyalty to my husband and the knowledge that my father had been wronged. I couldn’t stand the thought of my dad, who had worked so hard his whole life, losing $30,000 because of my husband’s betrayal.
Finally, I decided to confront my father. I sat down with him, heart pounding, and told him what had been happening. I expected him to be angry or disappointed, but to my surprise, he just smiled sadly and said, “I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to pressure you. I trusted Mark, but I also trust you. You’ll do what’s right.”
His quiet faith in me broke my heart. I knew then that I couldn’t let this go. I couldn’t let Mark get away with betraying my father’s trust, and I couldn’t let my dad lose that money without a fight. So, I came up with a plan.
I knew Mark’s biggest weakness was his pride. He loved the idea of being seen as successful, and he hated the thought of anyone knowing that he wasn’t doing as well as he pretended. So, I told him I was pregnant. It wasn’t true, of course, but I needed to push him into action. I told him we needed to start saving for the baby, that we couldn’t afford to keep delaying our financial obligations.
Mark panicked. Suddenly, he was scrambling to find money, selling off parts of his business, even borrowing from friends. He managed to come up with $50,000, thinking it was for our future child. But when he proudly showed me the money, I told him the truth.
I wasn’t pregnant. The money was going to my father to repay the loan, and the rest would be mine for the trouble he had caused.
Mark was furious, but there was nothing he could do. I handed the $30,000 to my father, and the remaining $20,000 I kept as compensation for the stress and heartache I had endured. I left Mark shortly after that, realizing that the man I had married wasn’t the person I thought he was.
In the end, my father got his money back, and I walked away from the marriage, wiser and stronger. The experience taught me a valuable lesson: trust is something that should never be taken for granted, and when someone breaks it, there are consequences. Mark may have thought he could lie his way out of the deal, but in the end, I made sure he paid the price.
My Fiancé Cheated On Me, So I Teamed up with His Lover’s Husband for Ultimate Revenge — Story of the Day
I thought my life with Mark was perfect until I found a hotel reservation for two. In Spain, I met Daniel, whose wife was also hiding secrets. Together, we planned our revenge, but what happened next surprised us both.
I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the wedding magazines spread across the coffee table. Just last week, Mark and I had been discussing venues and honeymoon destinations. Everything was supposed to be perfect. Supposed to be. But then, something shifted.
“Spain again?” I had asked Mark when he casually mentioned his upcoming trip. “Didn’t you just get back?”
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He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “Work, babe. You know how it is.”
That evening, he flew off on his business trip, and I was left behind, bored out of my mind. I’d already done everything possible to keep myself busy.
Before, during these trips, we’d talk on the phone five or six times a day. But the phone calls became shorter and less frequent. Lately, I’d just been staring at my phone, willing it to ring.
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That evening, as I was cleaning out my inbox, I found the hotel reservation for two. At first, I laughed, thinking maybe Mark had accidentally used our vacation plans when booking his hotel in Spain.
But my heart sank as I scrolled through the details. Champagne and strawberries. I had an allergy to strawberries!
What does it mean? He isn’t alone in Spain! He is with someone else. Maybe right now, SHE’s eating those strawberries!
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“No, this can’t be right,” I whispered, pacing back and forth, gripping my phone tightly.
The email felt like a hot coal burning in my hand. Deep down, I knew. The pit in my stomach grew heavier. I grabbed my phone and called Claire, my best friend.
“You need to breathe,” she said, but her tone was anything but calm.
“I have to go to Spain, Claire. I have to see for myself,” I said, my voice shaking.
“You hate flying,” she reminded me.
“Watching my life fall apart from here is worse,” I replied, my fingers already booking the next flight.
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***
The flight to Spain was a nightmare from the start. My seat was cramped, the air felt stuffy, and my mind wouldn’t stop spinning with every possible scenario.
What if Mark is truly sorry? What if he will beg me to forgive him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t care at all?
I stared out the window, trying to distract myself, when suddenly, a cold splash hit my lap. I looked down to see tomato juice soaking into my jeans. Perfect. Just what I needed.
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“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” The man next to me, wide-eyed and horrified, started fumbling with napkins. “I swear, I didn’t mean to… I’m just… I’m just really clumsy.”
“It’s fine,” I muttered, dabbing at the red stain.
Of course, such things happen. Could anything else go wrong today?
“Let me make it up to you. How about I buy us a drink? I mean, unless you want to sit in awkward silence for the rest of the flight with juice all over your lap.”
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I couldn’t help but laugh despite everything. “Sure, why not? A drink could save the day.”
“I’m Daniel, by the way,” he said, offering his hand with a grin. “And I promise, I’m usually better with tomato juice.”
“Rebecca. And don’t worry, it’s not the worst thing to happen today.”
“Oh? Well, now I’m curious.”
I sighed, taking a sip of my drink.
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“I’m on my way to Spain to confront my fiancé. He’s… probably cheating on me.”
“Yikes. That’s… rough.”
“Yeah. I found a hotel reservation for two. Champagne, dinner… you know, the works.”
“Ouch,” Daniel winced, shaking his head. “And here I thought spilling juice on you was bad.”
“Honestly, it kind of fits the day I’ve been having.”
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Daniel leaned back in his seat, swirling his drink. “Well, get this. I’m flying to Spain to see my wife. Who, surprise, might also be cheating on me.”
I blinked, stunned for a second, before bursting into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I was. But I’m not. It’s like some kind of messed-up cosmic joke, isn’t it? Two betrayed souls stuck on the same flight.”
“What are the odds of us sitting next to each other?”
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“Pretty slim, I’d say,” Daniel replied, raising his glass with cola. “To bad luck and strange coincidences?”
I clinked my glass against his. “And to being covered in tomato juice.”
***
By the time we landed, the tomato juice incident was a distant memory. We both had bigger things on our minds. As we grabbed our bags and headed for the exit, Daniel turned to me.
“So… where are you staying?”
“It’s here.” I opened the GPS on my phone.
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“Me too.”
I laughed again, shaking my head. “Of course you are. What’s next? We’re assigned the same room?”
As it turned out, that was exactly what happened. The hotel had overbooked, and the frazzled desk clerk apologized profusely, offering us a shared room.
I was too exhausted to argue, and honestly, too curious about what would happen next. We both stood there in stunned silence for a moment.
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“Well, I guess it’s just another chapter in this weird story.”
Daniel smirked. “Looks like fate wants us to be roommates.”
We agreed to share the space. What were the odds? Two strangers, both betrayed, stuck together in a foreign country. It was absurd. But so was everything else about that day.
***
We settled into the room, both of us giving each other space. It was an odd situation. After some awkward silence, we decided to have lunch on the balcony.
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I was picking at my salad when something caught my eye. I froze, my fork hovering mid-air. There, lounging by the pool, was Mark. But he wasn’t alone.
He was swimming too comfortably with a woman. And they looked… close. Way too close. In panic, I quickly ducked behind the balcony railing.
“That’s him,” I whispered, pointing shakily at the couple. “That’s Mark… with her.”
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I expected Daniel to say something, maybe a word of comfort. Instead, I noticed him tense up beside me. Without saying a word, he dropped down next to me on the balcony floor. He peered through the railing.
“That’s… my wife. Brenda.”
We both crouched there, our faces inches apart, staring through the slats of the railing like two kids spying on the neighbors. His wife. My fiancé. Together.
I turned to Daniel. “They’re cheating on us… with each other.”
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“This is like a bad sitcom.”
I raised my hand to shush him as we strained to hear their conversation. Brenda’s voice floated up, calm and collected like she was talking about the weather.
She was telling Mark her plan to divorce Daniel and live off the money she’d get from him. Mark, to my horror, was encouraging her, saying how great it would be.
I chuckled. “Are you… rich?”
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“Not rich enough for her.” He let out a bitter laugh.
We sat there for a moment, absorbing the insanity of the situation. Then, Daniel’s face lit up with an idea.
“Why don’t we give them a taste of their own medicine?”
“What do you mean?”
His kind of grin suggested nothing good was about to happen.
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“Let’s pretend we’re madly in love. Make a scene. We know where they’ll be having dinner tonight. Let’s give them something to talk about.”
My brain was struggling to keep up with the absurdity of the suggestion.
“That’s… ridiculous.”
“Exactly,” Daniel said. “It’s the perfect kind of ridiculous.”
It was childish, absurd, and completely out of character for me. But it was exactly what I needed.
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For the next few hours, we plotted. Surprisingly, Daniel had a sharp sense of style. At one point, he looked at my wardrobe and groaned.
“You dress like a grandma at 40,” he teased.
“Excuse me?” I laughed. “I thought you liked this sophisticated, mature look.”
Then, out of nowhere, he pulled out a stunning red dress from his suitcase.
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“I bought this for Brenda,” he said with a smirk, holding it up. “But I’m pretty sure it’ll look way better on you.”
I stared at the dress, then back at him, and burst out laughing. That was about to get very interesting.
***
That evening, we stepped out of the taxi, and for the first time in days, I felt… powerful. Daniel, dressed in a sharp suit, looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, and I…
Well, that red dress did things I never thought possible. I almost didn’t recognize myself.
“You ready?” Daniel asked, offering me his arm with a playful smirk.
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“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, slipping my arm through his.
We walked into the restaurant like we owned the place. The moment we passed Mark and Brenda’s table, I could feel their eyes on us.
Mark’s jaw practically dropped. Brenda froze with her fork suspended mid-air. I squeezed Daniel’s arm tighter, reminding myself not to burst into laughter. It was perfect.
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We stopped by their table. Daniel leaned in, his voice loud enough for them to hear.
“Should we invite them to join us for dinner? After all, it’s such a small world.”
Mark and Brenda exchanged awkward glances before giving us a hesitant wave. What followed was one of the most painfully delightful dinners I’ve ever had.
Brenda barely said a word. Mark looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, fidgeting in his seat. Daniel was in his element, flashing that charming grin of his.
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“So, Mark, Brenda… how long have you two been enjoying Spain?” he asked casually.
“Uh, a few days,” Mark muttered. “Just a… spontaneous trip.”
Daniel didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, spontaneous! I love that. We should try that sometime, right, darling?”
I smiled sweetly, catching Mark’s bewildered expression. “Absolutely. Spontaneity is everything. Though, I’m not sure we could top your getaway.”
Mark’s face turned redder, and he shot a glance at Brenda, who was struggling to keep her composure.
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“We were actually about to leave,” Brenda said.
Then, the grand finale. Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it slowly, revealing a stunning pair of diamond earrings.
“Brenda, I was planning to give you these. But I think they’ll suit my dear friend here much better.”
I didn’t suppress my grin as Brenda’s expression turned to pure horror.
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“You’ll never see a dime of my money,” Daniel added, his tone suddenly serious. “And as for the rest… well, I think we both know where we stand.”
Daniel glanced at me, giving me a playful wink. “Shall we, darling? We have a reservation at a much better place.”
We strolled out of the restaurant, heads held high, arm in arm. It wasn’t the ending I had expected when I boarded that plane to Spain, but at that moment, I realized I had finally let go of the life I thought I needed. And what I found was something far more valuable. I found myself.
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