When my best friend left town for a work trip, she asked me to watch her house. I agreed, not knowing I’d uncover her husband’s betrayal—and his secret plan to take everything from her. But when I told her the truth, she didn’t thank me. She accused me instead.
They said friends were the family you chose. I used to believe that with all my heart. Jessica had been my best friend since college, and even after all these years, we remained close.
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We’d laughed, cried, and shared almost everything. But my intuition had never screamed louder than the day I met Mark, Jessica’s husband. Something about him felt wrong.
Cold eyes with a warm smile. Like someone pretending to be kind but hiding something darker underneath. I didn’t like him then. And I liked him even less now.
One day, Jessica and I were sitting on her porch, like we had so many times before.
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The air was soft with late spring heat, warm but not heavy, and her cat, Taco, sprawled on the sunlit tiles like royalty, one paw twitching in a dream.
Jessica stirred honey into her tea, slow and quiet. Then she looked up at me with that guilty little smile I knew all too well—the kind she wore when she wanted something but didn’t want to ask.
“I need a favor,” Jessica said. Her voice was soft, like she already knew I wouldn’t like what was coming.
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I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “What kind of favor?”
She avoided my eyes. “I’m flying to New York next week. Big marketing pitch. I’ll be gone five days.”
I waited. She still hadn’t asked anything real.
“Could you check in on the house?” she added. “Feed Taco, water the plants, maybe bring in the mail. Just keep it from looking empty.”
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I raised an eyebrow. “And your husband? What’s he doing while you’re gone?”
She looked down at her tea. “He said it’s not really his thing.”
I blinked. “What’s not his thing?”ly
“Taking care of the house. Feeding the cat. He said it’s not a man’s job.”
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I scoffed and shook my head. “So, he can close real estate deals and wear cufflinks before noon, but a can of cat food is too much?”
Her jaw tightened. “Mark’s just not domestic. That’s just how he is.”
I leaned forward. “Jess, I love you. You know that. But you’re doing it again.”
She frowned. “Doing what?”
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“You’re making excuses for him. Again. He doesn’t do much, but you keep defending him. Why?”
Her voice got louder. “You’ve never liked him. From day one. You always look for reasons to hate him.”
“I had reasons, Jess. I still do. My gut said no the moment I met him.”
She pointed a finger at me. “You’re alone, Lee. And that’s not his fault.”
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I flinched. That one hit hard, but I kept my voice steady. “You think I’m jealous? You think I want your life?”
She stood up and crossed her arms. “You never gave him a chance. You decided you didn’t like him before you even heard him speak.”
Before I could answer, the sliding door opened behind her. Mark walked out like he owned the world. Crisp polo. Perfect hair. Phone in hand, thumbs tapping.
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“What are we talking about?” he said. “Me again?”
“Just your refusal to feed the cat,” I said.
He gave that smug smile I hated. “I delegate where it makes sense. It’s called efficiency.”
I turned to Jessica. “He hasn’t looked up from that phone. Who’s he texting so much?”
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“It’s work,” she said. “He has a big client. Real estate.”
I stared at his screen. “Must be a very flirty deal.”
Jessica slammed her glass down. “Enough. If you’re going to keep insulting him, maybe you shouldn’t help.”
I sighed. “I said I’d do it, and I will. For you. Not for him.”
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Mark looked up. “Try not to rearrange the furniture.”
I smiled. “Wouldn’t want to upset your kingdom.”
But I was already planning to keep my eyes open.
It was late afternoon when I pulled into Jessica’s driveway. The sky looked strange—dark clouds rolled in slow, and the air felt still, like it was waiting for something bad to happen.
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I parked and walked up the steps. The back door key was warm in my hand. I unlocked it and stepped inside.
Taco was there right away, rubbing against my leg, purring loud like always. He had no idea what was going on.
I bent down and gave him a quick scratch behind the ears. “Hey, buddy,” I whispered. “Let’s get you some food.”
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I filled his bowl and poured some water, then walked around the kitchen. I checked the plants in the window and the mail on the counter. Everything looked normal. Too normal. That’s when I heard it.
Laughter.
A man’s voice—Mark. And then a woman’s laugh followed.
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I froze at the bottom of the stairs. My heart pounded. I moved slowly, quietly as I could. The bedroom door was open just a little. I stepped closer and peeked in.
Mark was on the bed. Half his shirt was unbuttoned. Next to him was a woman wearing Jessica’s robe, sipping from her favorite glass like she owned the place.
“I told you it would work,” Mark said. He raised his glass and took a sip. “She signed it without reading. Didn’t even ask questions. Just trusted me like always.”
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The woman laughed. “Are you sure this gives you the house?”
Mark leaned back against the pillows. “Yes. Once I get it notarized on Friday, it’s done. She thinks it’s just boring bank papers. Something about refinancing. I made it sound simple.”
The woman looked around the room. “What about all her stuff? Clothes? Books?”
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He waved his hand. “We’ll throw out what we don’t want. Maybe sell a few things. I already packed some boxes. The rest is trash. The cat’s going too.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Wow. She’s going to be crushed.”
Mark smirked. “She won’t be. We’ll be long gone before she knows. I’ve been looking at condos in Miami. Pool, gym, all that. This place will be listed by the time she gets back.”
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I felt sick. I couldn’t listen anymore. My foot hit the edge of the stairs. A soft creak.
Mark’s head turned. “Did you hear that?” he asked, voice sharp.
I didn’t wait. I ran. Down the stairs. Out the back door. Into my car. My hands shook as I grabbed my phone. I hit Jessica’s name.
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“Lee?” she answered. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a woman in your house. With Mark. I saw them. I heard everything. He tricked you into signing papers. He’s stealing your house.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Then she said, “You’re lying.”
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“I’m not. Jess, please believe me—”
“You’ve always hated him. You’ve been waiting for a reason to tear us apart. You’re jealous. And now you’re making up stories.”
“No, I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to protect you.”
Her voice turned cold. “Don’t call me again.”
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Click. The line went dead.
Later that evening, my doorbell rang. I opened it. Mark stood there. Calm. Hands in his pockets.
“She told me everything,” he said. “About your little story.”
I didn’t blink. “I’m not afraid of you.”
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He stepped closer. “You should be. Keep pushing, and someone’s going to get hurt.”
I knew Jessica wouldn’t believe me unless she saw everything with her own eyes. Words wouldn’t be enough.
Not even tears would move her. Jessica was too in love with him. Too loyal. Too proud.
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She wouldn’t walk away without something solid. Proof she could touch. Proof she couldn’t explain away.
That’s why I did something I hated—something that felt cold and cruel, but also right.
I downloaded a fake call app. I set it up to look like the hospital was calling her.
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The message said I had been in a car accident. It said I was in the emergency room and not waking up.
I knew it was wrong to scare her like that, but it was the only thing that would pull her back fast.
And it worked.
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Six hours later, there was a knock at my door. Jessica stood there, breathing hard. Her hair was messy. Her eyes were wide. She looked like she had run the whole way.
“Are you okay?” Jessica asked as she rushed inside. Her face was pale, and her breath came fast. She looked like she had been crying.
“I’m fine,” I said. “There was no accident. I’m not hurt. I made it up.”
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“You lied to me?” she shouted. Her voice shook. “What the hell, Lee? Why would you do that?”
“Because you wouldn’t listen,” I said. “You wouldn’t hear me. I had to bring you back. I needed you to see it for yourself.”
She stared at me, her eyes wide and full of pain. For a moment, I thought she might hit me. But then she took a deep breath and said, “Okay. Show me.”
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We drove to her house. Neither of us spoke. The silence felt heavy.
When we reached her block, I parked a few houses down. We got out and walked slowly. At her window, we stopped and looked inside.
Mark was on the couch with the same woman. They were kissing like they didn’t have a care in the world.
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Jessica didn’t speak. She took out her phone. Her hands shook, but she snapped photo after photo. Her jaw tightened.
“I want to go inside,” she said.
We walked to the door. It was unlocked.
Inside, everything was different. The scent of her favorite candle was gone.
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The hallway was cold and quiet. Black trash bags lined the wall. Boxes were stacked on top of each other.
Sharp words written across them: “JUNK,” “DONATE,” “TRASH.” Her life was being packed away like it meant nothing.
Jessica’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “Mark!”
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He turned around fast, eyes wide. “Jessica? What the hell are you doing here?”
She stepped forward. Her voice was loud. Her hands were tight fists at her sides. “What am I doing here? Are you serious? You liar! You cheat! You’re throwing away my life like it’s trash!”
The woman on the couch jumped up. She grabbed her purse and started moving toward the door. “I’ll just—”
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“Sit down!” Jessica snapped. “I’m not finished.”
Mark raised both hands. “Jess, wait. This isn’t what it looks like.”
She laughed, but it sounded sharp and cold. “Not what it looks like? You’re kissing another woman in my house! She’s wearing my robe. Drinking from my glass. You tossed my things in garbage bags. And you’re telling her my house is yours now?”
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Mark looked nervous. “You signed the papers. You didn’t even read them.”
“You tricked me,” Jessica said. Her voice was shaking now. “You told me it was for refinancing. You stood in front of me and lied.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. They’re signed. It’s legal. It’s done. You just ruined everything.”
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Then he turned to me and pointed. “This is her fault. Lee. She’s been against me from the start. She poisoned your mind.”
Jessica took one step toward him. “No, Mark. You did this all by yourself. Lee told the truth. You think you can break me? You think you can take everything I own and leave me with nothing?”
She shook her head. “You’ll be left with nothing. Just your ego. And that won’t help you now.”
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Mark’s face twisted. “You’ll regret this.”
“No,” Jessica said. Her voice was calm now. “You will.”
She pointed at the door. “Get out. Both of you. I don’t want to see either of you in this house again.”
The woman ran out first. She didn’t look back. Mark stood there a second longer.
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His jaw was tight. His fists clenched. Then he turned and walked out. He slammed the door behind him.
Jessica didn’t move. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just stood there. Still and quiet.
I looked at her. “You’re awfully calm.”
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She turned to me. “Because I already knew. I’ve felt it for a while. I knew he was cheating. I saw the strange paperwork. I just didn’t want to believe it. I needed proof.”
“You could’ve told me,” I said.
“I didn’t want it to feel fake,” she said. “I needed him to think I still trusted him. And I needed you to act normal. You did.”
I nodded. “So… you used me?”
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She shook her head. “No. I trusted you. Even when I acted like I didn’t. You stood by me.”
“I always will,” I said.
She gave me a small smile. Then she looked at the bags and boxes. “Let’s clean this up. I’ve got a life to rebuild.”
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: When I found out my husband and my best friend were having an affair, I thought nothing could hurt more. But then my own mother asked me to hand over my children to them — as if I didn’t matter at all. I was broken, but I knew one thing: I wouldn’t let them win.
Bride Claimed I Destroyed My Son’s Wedding Because of My Outfit Choice – Was I Really Wrong Here?
Claire just wants to be the glamorous mother-of-the-groom—but when she realizes that her daughter-in-law has her own plans for the wedding, she steps back to focus on her own outfit, only for there to be a fight between her and Alice on the big day. Alice claims that Claire has destroyed the wedding by stealing her dream dress, while Claire sees nothing wrong in her actions. Who is wrong?
All I wanted was to be the mother-of-the-groom. That’s it. I just wanted to be the doting mother who loved her son more than anything—but this is the story of how my attempt to make my son’s wedding perfect turned into a day we’d all rather forget.
When Mark introduced Alice to us, she was unlike anyone I expected him to fall for. Mark, my son, is a lawyer at a top firm—a position that he secured straight after his graduation from Stanford.
“I’m going to be a lawyer, Mom,” he told me once when he was still in high school and doing an essay on the career he wanted to get into.
“I could easily see that,” I told him, making him breakfast as he worked away.
“It’s to help fight injustices. For children, specifically,” he said, drinking his orange juice.
Mark had big dreams, and I knew that my son was always going to reach for the stars.
Alice, on the other hand, was completely different from my son. Her entire personality was light and carefree, whereas Mark was serious and brooding. Alice was a self-taught coder, who freelanced from their cozy apartment. Their worlds, their politics, their interests didn’t align.
But they made it work—and they were a sweet couple for the most part. But love, as they say, is blind.
When Mark proposed to Alice, we were all invited to the scene to help surprise her.
“Please, Mom,” Mark said on the phone. “Alice isn’t close to her family, so to see you and Dad there will be good for her. She’ll know that she’s welcomed and supported.”
“Of course, honey,” I told him, already envisioning their wedding in my head.
I swallowed my reservations and offered to pay for the wedding. James and I had put money away for Mark’s studies, but he had always gotten bursaries which paid for it all.
“We can just use that money for the wedding, Claire,” my husband said over lunch the day after the proposal.
“It’s the best thing we could do for them,” I agreed. “This way they can save up to move out of that small apartment. I know Mark’s been talking about a house with a garden because he really wants a dog.”
When we told Mark and Alice, I thought that the gesture would bring us closer. I didn’t have any daughters, so I thought that this would be my chance.
I could get to know Alice better—and that would be good for Mark, to know that his wife and his mother got along well. Instead, the wedding planning only highlighted our differences.
After a few months into the wedding planning, I met Alice at a coffee shop so that we could go over the details. But we clashed on everything.
“I think roses are timeless,” I said, helping myself to a slice of cake.
“They are, but they’re also overdone in a sense,” Alice said, sipping her tea. “Mark and I want peonies.”
Our meeting went back and forth a few times—and we were stuck in a space where we just couldn’t agree on anything.
“Okay, how about this?” I asked her. “You go ahead with everything else, and just tell me what color your bridesmaids are wearing, so that there won’t be any clashes.”
“They won’t be wearing green,” she said. “I’m leaning toward pink.”
I paid the bill and we parted ways with the wedding planning.
But then, one afternoon Alice texted me.
Hi Claire, just picking out my wedding dress with the girls! I’m so excited! I wish you were here!
Attached were photos of her five top wedding dress picks.
I knew that Alice and I were on different ends of what we thought that the wedding should look like, but I wanted to be included in the big things. I wished that she had included me in the wedding dress shopping.
“At least she’s sending you the top picks,” James said as he read the newspaper next to me.
“I know, but it’s not the same,” I said.
“Do they look good?” he asked. “Can I see them?”
Together, we scrolled through the photos of the potential dresses. They were adequate choices, but nothing stood out.
Nothing that would fit the standard of my future daughter-in-law.
The dress that was Alice’s favorite and the first contender for the actual wedding dress wasn’t what I expected.
I typed back, telling Alice that it wasn’t quite the best choice. And I hoped that my financial stake in the wedding would weigh in. James and I hadn’t given the kids a budget. They had everything at their disposal.
Why not consider the second one? It might be more flattering for you.
James chuckled beside me.
“You’re at the point of over-stepping,” he said.
Before I could say anything, my phone pinged with a message from Alice.
Sorry, but I disagree. This is the dress I’m choosing.
That night over dinner, as James was plating our salmon, I shared my frustration with him.
“Alice is not even considering my opinion, and I’m paying for the dress!” I exclaimed.
James tried to mediate; he also texted Mark to make sure that he knew how I felt, too.
“I think you should just leave the wedding planning to them now,” James said. “Put all your attention into yourself and what you’re going to wear.”
But it also turned out that Mark was able to persuade Alice to wear the dress I preferred.
I had to admit, it was the less stressful option, and I hadn’t been able to shop for my dress before that.
So, that’s what I did.
I went to a few different boutiques and eventually found my perfect dress. It was emerald green, which I knew brought out my eyes.
“That’s beautiful,” James said when I tried the dress on for him.
I had felt different. I no longer felt like the mother-of-the-groom who had been pushed aside. Instead, I felt beautiful in my own skin, my self-esteem growing every time I thought of the dress.
When the wedding week loomed upon us, James and I tried to make ourselves as present as possible. We went to all the events that Mark and Alice needed us to be at—including the rehearsal dinner where we saluted them and drank champagne to toast the festivities.
“All sorted, Mom?” Mark asked me. “Your dress and everything?”
I smiled at my son. Despite being in the middle of Alice and me, he was always checking in on me.
“Of course,” I said. “I’m ready to celebrate you and Alice.”
On the morning of the wedding, I put on my green dress and did my make up. It was everything I had wanted to look for my son’s wedding—elegant and sophisticated.
As I arrived at the venue, the air was thick with murmurs. I ignored them, thinking that everyone was just so used to me being dressed in comfortable clothing, that this was something different for them.
I went straight to the bride’s dressing room, hoping to see Alice and compliment her before she walked down the aisle.
Upon opening the door, Alice looked up—her joyful expression collapsing into one of utter devastation. She looked me up and down before bursting into tears.
“Why did you do this to me, Claire?” she sobbed, her voice choked with emotion.
Confused, I stepped into the room and closed the door.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“Your dress!” she exclaimed.
“What about it?” I asked, second-guessing everything.
“It’s my dream wedding dress, just in another color,” she said, nearly shouting.
I was taken aback.
“Alice, honestly,” I said. “I didn’t realize—they look so different in color.”
But Alice wasn’t having any of it. She sat on the edge of the couch, her head in her hands.
“How could you?” she looked up and cried out. “You’ve made this day about you! Just because we didn’t take any of your suggestions!”
Mark, having heard the commotion from his dressing room next door, came rushing in.
“Mom? What’s going on here?” he asked me.
He looked from Alice to me, seeking an explanation.
Trying to calm the waters, I explained everything slowly.
“I didn’t see the resemblance, Mark,” I said. “I truly just loved the dress, and I thought—”
Alice stood up and marched toward Mark.
“No!” she exclaimed. “You thought that you’d show me what I could’ve had, but in green. Isn’t that it?”
“Mom, please,” my son said. “Let’s just try to get through the day. Please, for me.”
I agreed and left the dressing room. I just wanted to find James and sit quietly until the day was over.
I knew that Alice and I were walking a thin line, but I didn’t expect her to shout at me in the manner that she did.
Naturally, I was upset, but I didn’t want to ruin their day any further.
Reflecting now, perhaps I should have been more open to Alice’s preferences. It was her day after all, not just mine to orchestrate. The question of whether I was wrong hangs heavily over me.
Yes, in trying to enforce my vision, I might have lost sight of what was truly important—Alice’s happiness and Mark’s peace on their special day.
Was I wrong for what I did?
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