I Tracked My Cheating Wife's Affair Partner & Got Brutal Revenge At The Wood. Sad Audio Story

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[Music] Life as I knew it began to change in college. I was an ambitious student focused on laying the foundation for a successful career. Yet, amidst the lectures and late-night study sessions, I met someone who shifted the course of my life entirely. Jenny was magnetic, confident, captivating, and brimming with charm. Her presence seemed to light up every room she entered, and against my better judgment, I was drawn in. Our relationship blossomed quickly; between shared classes and endless conversations, I found myself imagining a future with her. At the time, I didn't notice the cracks—small signs
that hinted we might not be as compatible as I believed. She had a sharp wit, an incredible smile, and an air of mystery that left me wanting to know her more. Little did I realize that same mystery would later unravel everything we built together. My name is Mike Wilson, and for years, I lived under the illusion that my life was flawless. But in a single evening, that illusion shattered completely. The life I cherished, the people, the memories—was either destroyed or teetering on the edge of collapse. Despite the devastation, I clung to a verse from the
Bible for comfort: "Time and chance happen to all." A reminder that life's twists and turns are beyond our control. I married Jenny Smith three months after college. For over seven years, I never suspected her betrayal. Jenny and I met in college; she was a stunning blonde, green-eyed, and charming. She captivated me instantly, and we shared similar goals leading to marriage. At 5'8" and 190 lbs, I wasn't a movie star, but I had my share of attention. We became inseparable after meeting in a statistics class. Right before graduation, I landed a solid job, and our future
seemed bright. A red flag I missed was Jenny's reluctance to introduce me to her parents; she was ashamed of their poverty. But I found her parents, John and Elma, warm and kind. They became like family to me after my parents passed. Despite Jenny neglecting them, I kept in touch, helped out when I could, and admired their generosity despite having little. I started as a staff accountant at a large firm and earned a significant salary. Three years later, after passing the CPA exam, I was promoted to department head with a six-figure salary. Jenny was thrilled. We
upgraded our home and lifestyle. Shortly after we married, Jenny had twins, Glenda and Mark. Initially unhappy, she adjusted and became a devoted mother. After five years at home, she returned to work as a legal assistant. I worried about potential infidelity, but her boss, CLM Flint, a loyal family man, kept the workplace professional. Six years into our marriage, Jenny became restless. After snapping at Glenda over something trivial, she confessed to feeling trapped and unfulfilled; she longed for more—travel, luxury, and freedom. She rejected my suggestion of counseling, claiming she wasn't crazy. Her moods created tension, but I
believed it was temporary and stayed committed to our family. I devoted myself to our twins, shielding them from Jenny's instability. On weekends, I took them on outings. Jenny sometimes joined, but often stayed behind. The kids cherished her good moods but preferred when she didn't come during her bad spells. Things briefly improved after a company picnic, but everything fell apart at the New Year's Eve party. Typically, we skipped such events, preferring quiet celebrations at home. This year, Jenny insisted on attending, claiming she wanted to dance, though she rarely enjoyed it. At the party, I was surprised
to see our boss, Brad Coulson, who usually only attended the summer picnic. Brad had met Jenny at that picnic, but his presence at this event was unusual. Soon after we arrived, Brad asked Jenny to dance. She danced several songs with him but declined when I asked, citing fatigue. Yet, when Brad returned, she enthusiastically danced five more songs. As midnight approached, I realized Jenny had been with Brad most of the evening. I searched for her, wanting to kiss her at the countdown. To my horror, I saw Brad pulling her into a kiss. Furious, I stormed over,
shoved Brad, and shouted, "Leave my wife alone, you fool!" The room fell silent as everyone stared. No one had ever spoken to Brad like that, but I didn't care. My heart raced, my face burned, and though I wasn't a fighter, I was ready to confront him. "Brad, however, just smirked. 'Jenny, let’s go home,' I demanded, reaching for her hand. She pulled away. 'Mike, I'm sorry,' she said, taking Brad's hand. 'I'm going with him—just tonight. We'll talk tomorrow.' I was stunned. Brad and Jenny left together, leaving me humiliated as the crowd watched. Without a word, I
left and went home. My world shattered. The next morning, New Year's Day, I woke with the worst hangover of my life. After crying, drinking, and barely sleeping, I raged internally, plotting revenge against Brad, convinced he had manipulated Jenny. Still, I loved her and hoped we could fix things. I rehearsed what I'd say when I returned, assuming counseling would be involved. But doubts crept in—what if she didn't come back? Panicked, I rushed to pick up our kids, Mark and Glenda, before Jenny could. At IHOP, while they ate pancakes, I jotted down plans for reconciliation and a
potential divorce. Returning home, I was relieved and disappointed to find Jenny wasn't there. Then I noticed a message on the answering machine. It was Jenny saying she needed time to think and was going on a business trip with Brad as his temporary secretary. Her excuse was nonsense; it was clear Brad wanted her, not a secretary. I tore up my list for reconciliation. The pain of betrayal hit harder than anything I'd ever felt—dark thoughts consumed me: anger, revenge, despair. But I dismissed the idea of injuring myself. I loved my... Kids are too much to abandon them.
As my mind spiraled, another question haunted me: were Mark and Glenda really my children? I resolved to get a DNA test. At the restaurant, I discreetly collected samples while pretending everything was normal. Realizing I needed legal advice, I called a friend who had gone through a divorce. He recommended his ex-wife's attorney, Tom Watson. Though it was New Year's Day, I called the number. To my surprise, a man answered, “Tom Watson,” he said. I quickly realized I was speaking directly to the lawyer I needed. Before he could dismiss me, I explained the situation, including that my
wife's lover was Brad Coulson. His interest peaked immediately. “Can you come to my office at 9:00 a.m. Tuesday?” he asked. “Yes, if I can find someone to watch my kids,” I replied. “Bring them with you,” he suggested. “They'll help clarify some things for you. Also, gather all your financial documents: bank statements, bills, tax returns, marriage and birth certificates, and a list of major purchases over $100.” I spent the rest of the day playing with the kids but stopped to pick up a DNA test on the way to dinner. After swabbing our cheeks, I sent the
kids off. Two days later, I was relieved to learn Mark and Glenda were mine. The morning of the appointment was hectic as I prepped the kids and called work to take the week off. At Tom Watson's office, he led us to a large conference room. I set the kids up with tablets while we talked. Twice I broke down, explaining how Jenny left me for my boss on New Year's Eve. Tom was empathetic but warned me things would be challenging. Tom then revealed a personal connection: his cousin Abby was once married to Brad's brother Joe. Joe
cheated, left her, and Brad's lawyers crushed Tom in the divorce proceedings when he was just starting out. However, Tom had since dedicated himself to family law and vowed to fight for me. “Brad will throw his team at us, but I'll give it my all,” he promised. “That's all I need to hear,” I said. We got to work reviewing documents and discussing my goals. I wanted the house, half the assets, my pension, no alimony, and joint custody. Tom advised tempering expectations, explaining Jenny would likely get primary custody, especially if she married Brad and became a stay-at-home
mom. “The best we might achieve is generous visitation rights,” he admitted. Frustrated, I replied, “I didn't do anything wrong, but I'm the one losing out.” Tom agreed but noted that if Jenny married Brad, I wouldn't have to pay child support, though alimony would still apply. I bitterly responded, “I'd pay child support just to see my kids.” At the end of our meeting, Tom spent time talking to Mark and Glenda. When he returned, he smiled and said, “You must be an amazing dad. Your kids adore you.” “They love their mother too, but not as much as
they love you.” His words gave me a sliver of hope in an otherwise dark time. Leaving Tom Watson's office, I felt better about my finances, but I was still anxious about how much time I'd get with my kids. Tom assured me he would draft the divorce petition and request for temporary custody, planning to serve it to Jenny once she returned from her business trip. Eight days after D-Day, Jenny called and asked if we could talk. I agreed, making arrangements for the kids to be elsewhere. As expected, Jenny wasn't looking to reconcile, and though it hurt,
I knew our marriage was over. When she arrived, I made her wait before opening the door, trying to stay calm. I walked past her without saying a word and grabbed a beer. When Jenny asked about the kids, I kept my cool and replied, “So now you're worried about them?” “I guess I deserve that,” she said, almost apologetic. She tried to explain, “Brad and I didn't plan for me to leave that night; the trip came up suddenly, and Brad convinced me it would be best to let you cool off. Afterward, I realized he was my soulmate.”
“Isn't it amazing that your soulmate is rich?” I snapped. “I assume you're here to talk about our divorce? Let's get it over with; I've got better things to do.” Jenny bristled, “You don't have to be rude.” “I don't care what you think,” I replied flatly. “Fine. I don't have to sit here and take insults,” she shot back, but her confidence wavered. “Then leave,” I said, heading toward the backyard. I didn't really want her to leave, but I had to stay composed. To my surprise, Jenny decided to stay. She pulled out an envelope and handed it
to me. As I read, Tom's prediction came true: her terms were generous until the last paragraph. I nearly exploded. “Tell Brad Coulson to shove this proposal up his ass! I'll never let him adopt my kids, and offering me $100,000 to agree is despicable!” “Mike, Brad and I can give the kids a better life,” she argued. “They'll have better schools, a nicer house, and things you can't provide. Brad's even willing to offer you $250,000 for the adoption.” “I see. Jenny, not only are you a hoe, but you're also an idiot. What part of ‘screw yourself and
screw your soulmate’ don't you get?” “Brad might increase the offer to $500,000,” she said quickly. “That's probably more than you'll ever see. We were struggling on your salary, and Brad's your boss; he could fire you any time.” “Even if he offered $100 million, I wouldn't take it.” I was close to losing control, but I forced myself to stay calm. “I've thought about our marriage, and I've realized it wasn't great. You've been a terrible wife and mother for the past year. I'm not taking Brad's crumbs. If he fires me, I'll...” "File with the EEOC. The court
has awarded me custody because you abandoned the kids." "I didn't abandon them!" she snapped. At that moment, the doorbell rang. "It's for you," I said, smiling as I walked to the door. A sheriff's deputy handed Jenny a summons. She read it and, in tears, ran out. It felt good to see her like that. "I called Tom. She just left, served with the divorce papers." "Hope you behaved," Tom said. "It was hard, but I did." She left crying after being served, but there's something I didn't expect: Brad wants to adopt my kids. "Can he do that?"
Tom was surprised. "That's new, but unless they prove you're unfit, it's nearly impossible. Just be careful; they may try to twist anything against you. Stick close to people who can vouch for you. We'll be ready." "Tom, does it ever get easier?" I asked. "The pain's still fresh; it gets better," he reassured me. "You're not as devastated as you were the night she left. There will be tough days ahead, and we might lose a few battles, but we'll regroup and fight back. Keep the faith." During the week I took off work, I followed Tom's advice and
made all the financial arrangements. I opened new accounts, transferring half of our money into them, and set up after-school care for the kids. Their school had a program until 5:30 p.m., which fit perfectly with my work schedule, allowing me time to run errands and still put the kids to bed. That week also gave me the chance to establish routines with the kids. Jenny had been lax about managing bedtime, so I set stricter rules. I made them bathe, brush their teeth, and go to bed by 8:00 p.m. At first, they resisted, but when I promised to
read them two stories instead of one, they began looking forward to it. Our bond grew stronger, and surprisingly, they didn't ask about their mom too often. But one day, Mark asked, "Will Mom ever come back?" I didn't want to hurt them, but I couldn't lie. "Your mom has found someone else she likes better and wants to live with him. She also wants him to be your new daddy." Both kids cried, and I quickly reassured them, "No matter what, I'll always be your daddy." That calmed them down, and they hugged me tightly. On Saturday, I took
my children, Glenda and Mark, to their riding lessons. Even though their mother, Jenny, hadn't seen them in over a week, they were thrilled to see their instructor, Miss Darla. Darla, who owned the horse farm, was an exceptional teacher. Glenda adored horses, while Mark, despite his initial hesitation, had surpassed his sister in riding skills. When I arrived, Darla greeted me with a question: "Where's Mrs. Wilson?" "We're getting a divorce," I replied. Darla's expression shifted to concern. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to intrude." "It's okay," I reassured her. "I just hope the kids can keep
attending lessons. Right now, I have custody, but Jenny will probably get primary custody, and I'll have visitation. I'll fight for joint custody, but it doesn't look promising." "Why do you say that?" she asked. I sighed. "Jenny plans to marry her wealthy lover, Brad. She'll be a stay-at-home mom while I'll be scrambling for babysitters. On top of that, I work for Brad, and I'm pretty sure he'll find a way to push me out of the company." Darla's brow furrowed. "That's Brad Coulson, isn't it?" "Yeah. Do you know him?" I asked. "I haven't met him, but I've
dealt with his lawyers," Darla said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "They tried to take some of my land next door. They filed so many motions, I couldn't afford to fight anymore. In the end, I gave up the land in exchange for them covering my legal fees. It was a sour experience, and I've been hoping Brad would get his comeuppance." "I feel the same way," I admitted. "Brad's an idiot, but Jenny chose him. Honestly, I’d love to see the day when both of them get what they deserve." Darla gave me a curious look. "What will you
do if Brad fires you?" "I've started a side business as a tax preparer and bookkeeper," I explained. "I have a few small clients, but it's not enough to support us yet. Once the divorce is finalized, I'll probably have to sell my house and move into an apartment. It's not an ideal setup for running a business, but I'll make it work." "If you can match what I'm paying now, I'd be happy to give you my accounting work," Darla offered. "I can't ask that of you," I protested. "I am not sure my current accountant is doing a
good job," she said with a grin. "They've been handling my taxes since my father left me the ranch. They're a big firm, but their service is slow, and I pay a lot. If you think you can handle it, I'd rather give you my business." Looking at the kids enjoying their lessons, I turned back to Darla. "Okay, I'll take a look at your books. If I can match the price, I’d love to take you on as a client." Darla led me to her office and showed me her current books and last year's tax return. It didn't
take long to see that her accounting firm, Mentor, Smith, and Zeller, was charging her far too much. "I can't charge you what they do," I said with a smirk. "I charge $750 a month and $2,000 for your tax return." "No, I'm willing to pay what I've been paying," Darla protested. "I can't do that," I replied firmly. "You're overpaying because you're too small for them to care about. I'll only take you on if I can charge a fair rate." Darla seemed relieved. "That will help so much." I've struggled to save since inheriting the ranch; the $1,250
I'll save monthly makes a big difference. Oh, and Glenda and Mark's lessons will be free from now on. I can't accept that. "I," I said. "You didn't ask," she said with a smile. I'm telling you, getting Darla's business was a boost, but the divorce was growing uglier each week. Photos of Brad and Jenny appeared in the paper, flaunting their happiness while I struggled, adding to my misery. I couldn't figure out how to strike back; my life felt like it was falling apart. Two weeks after D-Day, my day started well when Harvey's Hardware called to hire
me for accounting work, but it quickly turned sour. At work, I was fired. It wasn't unexpected, given the awkwardness since the New Year's Eve party, but it still stung. Conversations had stopped when I entered rooms, and now Brad was pulling strings to ruin me. Tom began preparing a wrongful termination case with the EEOC, warning me it could take years. Meanwhile, he issued a press release about my firing, which reportedly angered Brad. Later that day, Tom informed me that the judge had granted joint custody. This meant the kids stayed in the house, and Jenny had the
option to live there too. Thankfully, she declined and instead picked the kids up daily, leaving me to retrieve them in the evenings. This arrangement was a nightmare. Every night, I endured Jenny's displays of affection with Brad—hugs, kisses, and flirty remarks—all while the kids looked increasingly confused. Things felt unbearable, but worse was yet to come. Once Jenny had joint custody, her lawyer filed motions to move the kids' primary residence to Brad's house, accusing me of denying visitation and turning the kids against her. Tom countered, pointing out that Jenny rarely visited and that the kids often asked,
"When will you come see us, Mommy?" The judge left the children in my home for now but didn't address the false claims, which worried Tom. "The judge likely has 30 to 40 cases pending," he explained. The judge then ordered a two-week custody rotation. I thought the arrangement would be inconvenient for Jenny, given the 35-minute commute from Brad's house to the kids' school. I underestimated their cunning. From the moment Jenny left with Brad, I realized I'd never truly known her; she likely didn't know herself either. But it was hard to let go of someone I still
loved. When Jenny picked up Glenda and Mark for the first time, her words shocked me. Jenny looked nervous but determined. After the kids were out of earshot, she turned to me. "Please don't complicate the divorce. I still care about you, and I don't want Brad to destroy you. If you let him adopt the kids, I'll give you full visitation rights, but I won't let you ruin my relationship with him." I shook my head. "I thought you were just a cheater, but you're worse. You're manipulative. Full visitation rights? Yeah, right. Screw you." I started to walk
away, but she called after me, "You've been warned." I called Tom right away and told him what Jenny had said. "I told you to expect the worst from Brad. Have you set up cameras yet?" he asked. "Outside cameras are going up tomorrow, but I've already installed one in the kids' room, my bedroom, the hallway, the kitchen, and the family room. The rest will be done soon." "Good," Tom replied. "Brad's lawyers will probably accuse you of things. The cameras will protect you." The time the kids spent with Jenny was tough. Brad's social life was always in
the spotlight; photos of him and Jenny with the kids appeared in the newspaper and on TV. They always looked so happy, and it crushed me. I couldn't compete with Brad's wealth, and it felt like he was slowly taking my kids from me. Then one morning, I got a call from the school: Mark and Glenda were absent. I called Jenny. "Are they sick?" "No," she answered smugly. "I transferred them to Chesteron Primary. It's closer to my house and a better school." "You can't do that!" I said furiously. "I can and I did," she snapped before hanging
up. I called Tom, and he said we'd fight the transfer, but the judge would likely allow it since the new school had a higher rating. Courts prioritize what they think is best for the kids, even if it means sending a terrible message: their mother can do whatever she wants, and their father is powerless. Tom warned me that this was just the beginning. "Stay vigilant," he said. "This is only their first move." On Tuesday, Tom filed a complaint about the transfer, but by Wednesday, Jenny's lawyers accused me of mistreating Glenda. I was furious, but Tom kept
me calm. An emergency hearing was scheduled, and I was barred from seeing my kids until the investigation was completed. Tom quickly got a court order demanding more details on the accusations. "Mr. Silas, if these accusations are false, there will be consequences for Mrs. Wilson," he warned. The next day, Jenny's lawyer sent over the accusations, but still no specifics. Tom reassured me that we had enough evidence to clear my name. At the emergency hearing, the judge turned to Jenny's lawyer. "What evidence do you have?" "The children told their mother," the lawyer replied. "Mr. Watson, what does
your client say?" the judge asked. Tom responded, "We maintain that the accusation is a lie. We have video evidence that disproves it, filmed with security cameras Mr. Wilson installed due to concerns like this." Mr. Silas objected, claiming the footage could be doctored. The judge sighed. "Mr. Silas, the video is securely stored with Able Security and the cloud. Only two people have access to it. I trust the system." When the videos concluded, the judge confirmed nothing inappropriate had happened. occurring. Looking displeased, he spoke sternly after a 20-minute meeting with the kids. "This will be considered a
misunderstanding," the judge declared. "But, Mrs. Wilson, don’t let it happen again." Mr. Silas stood. "Your Honor, can you also rule on the school transfer?" The judge agreed. "Chesterton Elementary is the better school, and the children have said they like it." I dodged one bullet but lost a critical battle. After the hearing, Tom didn't sugarcoat it. "Mike, this ruling strengthens Jenny's case for primary custody, but on the positive side, you avoided jail and still have visitation rights." "Great," I replied bitterly. "Jenny will find ways to sabotage my visits, and we'll be back here complaining while she
and Brad continue to make my life hell. Isn’t there anything I can do?" Tom shook his head. "Unless you move to the Chesterton district and get married, the odds are against you." That weekend, I took the kids to their writing lessons, but I was too consumed by despair to enjoy the time. My life felt like a mess. My wife had left me, I’d lost my job, and now I was losing my kids. Meanwhile, Jenny's life seemed perfect. "Hey, Mike," Darla said, sitting beside me. "You look miserable. What’s wrong?" I explained the custody battle and how
I needed to move to Chesterton and get married to have a chance. "I can’t afford to move, and I have no prospects for marriage," I said bitterly. "No offense, but your wife is a class-A witch," Darla said bluntly. "She’s treated me like garbage since the kids started lessons." I wanted to tell her to leave, but I couldn’t disappoint Glenda. I chuckled sadly. "No offense taken." After a moment of silence, Darla brightened. "I have an idea! My house is in the Chesterton District. Move in and we'll tell people we’re engaged. Once your divorce is finalized, we’ll
marry. That puts you on equal footing with Jenny." I stared at her, amused, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I asked Darla to join me at my next meeting with Tom to explain the plan. Tom dismissed the initial idea. "A sham marriage won’t work. The courts will see through it and could award Jenny sole custody." Darla countered, "What if we really get married? Announce our engagement now, marry after his divorce is finalized, and he can move into my house. I have extra rooms, and he can even run his accounting
business from the den. We’ll draft agreements to keep everything fair." Tom paused, weighing the suggestion. "It’s not illegal if done properly. You’d need a legitimate ceremony and clear agreements. I’d recommend a prenuptial agreement and a commitment to stay married for at least 18 months to avoid suspicion." Darla agreed immediately. "Whatever it takes." I hesitated. "Darla, this is a lot for you." "It’s worth it to mess with Brad," she said with a grin. Eight weeks after D-Day, we signed all the legal documents. The agreement was clear: we’d remain married for at least 18 months, keep our
pre-marriage assets, and split any earnings fairly. I paid rent, which was considered my contribution to household expenses. Darla seemed thrilled, and I realized she hated Brad as much as I did. The next day, Darla and I applied for a marriage license at the courthouse. We had blood tests done and then waited for the final custody hearing. Tom filed for joint custody, while Jenny’s lawyer pushed for sole custody. Meanwhile, Jenny and Brad announced their wedding plans with lavish details appearing in the society pages. I wasn’t invited, of course. At the hearing, my nerves were on edge.
Though I felt somewhat equal to Jenny and Brad, I knew, however, that the court's decision wouldn't necessarily be fair. Jenny's lawyer, Mr. Silas, began by criticizing me. "Mr. Wilson is unemployed, struggles to pay bills, and doesn't live in the Chesterton District. We are also concerned about his mental state." Tom immediately objected. "Do you have evidence of that?" the judge asked. Mr. Silas admitted he didn't. He then switched tactics, stating that Jenny and Brad planned to marry and that Brad's home was in the Chesterton District with substantial means. "Therefore, Mrs. Wilson should have sole custody," he
concluded. Tom rose and corrected the record. "Mr. Wilson is financially stable and has started his own profitable accounting firm. He's living in the Chesterton District with his fiancée, Darla Lamson. We request joint custody." Jenny and Brad looked stunned, and I felt a rush of confidence. After talking to the kids for about 20 minutes, the judge returned. "Making custody decisions is difficult, but after speaking with the children, they want time with both parents. I'm granting joint custody. The children will spend two weeks with each parent, starting this Sunday. The transfer will happen no later than 2
p.m. every two weeks." The judge finalized the divorce in 30 days, and everything would be split 50/50. Jenny and I would each receive $6,000 from the sale of the house. As we left the courtroom, I felt triumphant, but I kept my cool. I hugged the kids, then approached Jenny and Brad, who were angry at their lawyer. "Sorry to interrupt," I said with a smirk, "but I just wanted to confirm when I can pick up the kids—two weeks from Sunday." Brad growled, but I brushed him off. Jenny sneered, "You’re marrying Miss Piggy to get joint custody."
I shot back, "And you're marrying your grandfather, you little crap." Brad lunged at me, but I dodged him. Jenny pulled him back, and Mr. Silas intervened, warning Brad that attacking me could result in sole custody for me. At that moment, my kids clung to me, shouting, "Don’t hurt our daddy!" Jenny tried to calm them. "It’s okay, kids. Daddy and Mr. Coulson were just playing. Let’s go get ice cream." Before they left, I turned to Jenny. "I’ll be..." There at 2 p.m., two weeks from Sunday, she gave me a look, but I didn't respond further. At
the scheduled time, I picked up the kids, and we went to a movie and dinner with Darla. Brad's lawyers couldn't cancel anything, and the kids were thrilled to be with me. At Darla's, they loved riding horses and cooking with her—things Jenny could never manage when we were married, even boiling water. A month after the judge's ruling, Darla and I got married at the courthouse with the kids there. Darla's best friend stood in for her, and Tom stood in for me. After the ceremony, I kissed Darla, and she looked overjoyed. A week later, Jenny and Brad's
wedding was all over the society pages, but it was the smiles on my kids' faces that really struck me. It wasn't fair, but as weeks passed, Tom's prediction that the pain would fade didn't come true. Even when the pain wasn't as sharp, my nights were filled with loneliness. For months, I plotted revenge, but nothing seemed worth the risk. Brad was a millionaire, and Jenny was untouchable. In my darkest moments, I considered turning the kids against their mother, but I loved them too much. It was hard to watch them so happy with the new setup, especially
when they raved about Brad's house, pool, hot tub, game room, tennis court, and mini movie studio. About three months after the divorce, Jenny started manipulating the kids. She subtly implied that I wasn't a good father because I didn't spend as much on them as Brad did. When they told me, I was both hurt and angry. Darla insisted we talk to the kids about it. When the kids returned, I asked, “Do you think I'm a bad dad because I don't spend as much money as Brad?” Mark replied, “That's what Mom says.” I explained, “Mr. Coulson is
very rich. I can't buy you everything he can, but I love you, and if presents matter more, I won't make you come to the ranch anymore.” Glenda started crying, “No, Daddy! I don't want to be with Mommy all the time! I want to be with you too!” Mark, with tears in his eyes, agreed. When Jenny found out, she was furious and came storming to the ranch. “Why are Mark and Glenda mad at me?” she yelled. When I opened the door, I didn't want to fight, so I simply said, “Back off, Jenny,” and slammed the door
in her face. That was just the beginning. Jenny started planning expensive trips for the kids every few months. They begged to go, and I gave in. But one time when they wanted to go to New York, I suggested we switch weeks. Jenny refused, and the kids were upset with her, not me—a small victory during this stressful time. Darla and I also had support from Jenny's parents, John and Alma. When Jenny didn't invite them to her wedding, I invited them to the ranch for a barbecue. Darla insisted they stay the weekend, and we had a great
time. I learned that John, a Vietnam War veteran, had been awarded three Purple Hearts and a Silver Star. Jenny's embarrassment of him was a turning point for me. From then on, we invited them over when the kids were with me, while Jenny refused to visit or invite them to her home. John also taught me to ride horses, which helped me connect with the kids. I read books on divorce and co-parenting and came across advice to give kids experiences instead of material things. Darla took it a step further, planning hikes, bowling trips, and even a mini
rodeo with a local charity. Glenda and Mark were excited to be part of the parade at the rodeo, and it became a highlight for all of us. Jenny tried to sabotage the rodeo by offering to take the kids to Disneyland, but Mark and Glenda refused; they didn't want to miss their first rodeo, which turned into an annual event. In the year after the divorce, Jenny kept trying to win the kids' favor, often making snide comments about me. Occasionally, she'd convince them to spend a few days with her and Brad instead of me. Even though it
stung, I never showed it. Each night they were with me, I continued to read them two books before bed, even as they got older, and I had to break the chapters into smaller chunks. Though Darla and I didn't sleep together, living with her was great. She was upbeat and kind, and I was able to grow my accounting business. By the end of the first year, I was making about 70% of what I earned working for Brad. But even after a year, Jenny kept trying to outdo me in the kids' eyes. Brad, however, had realized I
wouldn't let him adopt my children, and his interest in them began to fade. He became more focused on Jenny and wanted her with him during his overseas trips. At first, I resisted letting the kids travel abroad, fearing they might be hijacked, but Darla convinced me Brad wouldn't risk a scandal. I agreed, and the kids loved their trips, often returning with stories for days. When one of their trips was extended, Jenny called to send the kids home early, and I met them at the airport. I barely noticed the first anniversary of the divorce until Tom reminded
me. I hadn't even mentioned it to Darla, but I quickly made it up to her with flowers and a dinner. Darla was overjoyed; however, as we approached months, Darla became more distant. She wasn't unpleasant, but I could tell something was off. I felt like I had overstayed my welcome and began looking for a new place to live, finding a townhouse in the Chesterton School District. I didn't want to leave; I loved living on the... Ranch and working from home, especially with Darla's company, we'd even expanded the ranch, adding more land and developing it into a
popular spot for weekend riders and corporate retreats. Darla's business was thriving, bringing in nearly $100,000 a year after taxes. My own business was growing too, and I'd hired staff. I even received a settlement from Brad's company for the wrongful termination lawsuit: $250,000, which I split with Tom. The night before the 18-month mark, I told Darla I was planning to move out and rent a place temporarily until I bought a house. She burst into tears and locked herself in her bedroom, leaving me feeling confused and anxious. Despite being married, we had never been intimate. I cared
deeply for her, but I had kept my distance, unsure of how to approach her. That night, a thunderstorm hit, and Darla came into my room, terrified of the lightning. She asked if she could sleep with me. When I pulled the blanket back, I realized she was without clothes, trembling. She whispered, "Please, Mike, I know you don't love me, but I need you to make love to me at least once before you leave." That night, I realized my feelings for Darla had grown deep and genuine. It wasn't the infatuation I'd felt for Jenny, but a mature
love that had developed over time. Making love to Darla completed the healing process for me. "Darla, I don't know if this is love, but I never want to leave you. Over these months, my feelings for you kept growing, but I was scared you didn't feel the same." "Oh, Mike," she said emotionally, "I've loved you since the beginning, but you were married to Jenny. When we agreed to pretend to be married, I thought I had a chance, but when you said you were leaving, I was devastated. I love you and want to be your wife. I'll
only leave if you make me." "I promised you're my home." The next morning was sunny and bright, and I felt completely different. The betrayal and anger I'd carried were gone, replaced by contentment. Darla and I were no longer pretending; we were truly husband and wife. When I suggested a honeymoon, Darla surprised me by choosing Montana. Her father had always spoken fondly of working on a ranch there, inspiring him to buy their Texas ranch. We spent two weeks exploring Montana and staying at a working ranch, where Darla got ideas for her own property. The best part
was the nights we spent together, deepening our bond. When we returned, the kids were thrilled to see us but shared their unhappiness. While Jenny and Brad were traveling in Europe, they had left the kids with a strict nanny who wouldn't let them swim or do much beyond school and homework. When Jenny picked them up, I offered to take the kids if she needed to travel again. "The custody agreement is clear," she snapped. "Two weeks here, two weeks there." I called Tom for advice, and he suggested waiting to see if it happened again. Six weeks later,
it did. When I called the kids, they told me Jenny and Brad were away for another week. Tom filed to modify the custody agreement, and Jenny was furious. "Hell will freeze over before I agree to any changes," she fumed in court. Her lawyer argued that the custody agreement had been working for two years. Tom countered, explaining that allowing the kids to stay with me during her trips would be in their best interest. The judge agreed. "It makes no sense to deny the children their father's company when the mother is away," he ruled, granting the modification.
It was a significant victory, ensuring the kids would have more stability and time with me during Jenny's frequent travels. For the first time, it felt like things were truly falling into place. I was shocked by the judge's swift ruling in my favor, but Jenny's furious glare warned me trouble was ahead. "Why are you such a pain in the ass?" she snapped in the hallway after the hearing. "Jenny, I don't get it. You're gone, so why can't the kids stay with me? It's better than sitting with that drill sergeant of a nanny you hired." "Screw you,
Mike," she hissed, storming off. I turned to Tom. "What's her problem?" "She hates losing control and fears the kids might love you more than her," he replied. Years later, Darla and I had two children: Wendy and Steven. Glenda became like a second mom, and Mark was a protective big brother. Time flew by, and Mark and Glenda spent most of their time with us. Jenny and Brad often traveled, leaving the kids behind. Jenny's contact with her parents dwindled to rare dinner visits, while we invited Jon and Elma over almost every weekend. They were like family to
me, and I loved hearing Jon's stories about his life and Vietnam service. It pained me that Jenny ignored her parents, but any attempt to talk to her about it was met with hostility. I occasionally followed Jenny and Brad in the social pages, and the kids enjoyed seeing their mom in the news. I had once expected their marriage to fail, but it didn't. According to Glenda and Mark, Brad was kind to them and showered them with gifts. Eight years after the divorce, Elma passed away from cancer. She spent her final days at our ranch, and we
buried her in the family cemetery. Jon asked to be buried beside her when his time came, and we agreed. Jenny only visited once after her mother's end of life. When Jon called to inform her, she and Brad showed up at the funeral, where tensions simmered. Brad's aging appearance surprised me: graying hair and a slight belly hinted at a slower lifestyle. Jenny shared an awkward moment with her father before embracing him. Brad politely shook Jon's hand. When it came time to sit, there wasn't enough space in the front row, so Brad and I sat in the
second pew. He grumbled about it, but Darla silenced him. Minutes later, Brad left the service in a huff. Afterward, Jon invited Jenny and Brad to the ranch for the burial and meal, but they declined, claiming they had a plane to catch. Later, I asked Darla what had happened during the service. She chuckled. "Brad was mad you were in the front row with Jenny. I told him the world doesn't revolve around him." I think I had offended him. Two weeks later, Brad retaliated by attempting another land grab. His lawyers discovered a clerical error regarding 10 acres
of Darla's ranch that had once been a separate parcel and lacked a tax assessment. Brad paid the taxes owed and demanded ownership through legal channels. It was clear Brad wasn't done stirring trouble. Darla was upset about Brad's demand for the 10 acres, even though the land was mostly swampy and rocky. She asked if she should just sign it over. "Absolutely not," I said firmly. "Brad's being a bully because you stood up to him. His claim is baseless." As expected, the court sided with Darla, ruling the county was responsible for the tax error and should have
first notified her. The court also limited the back taxes to five years. Afterward, I didn't see Brad much, and Jenny became increasingly absent from her kids' lives due to Brad's growing travel schedule. Over time, Glenda and Mark spent about nine months a year with us and started to dislike being at their mother's house. The turning point came when news broke that Brad had filed for divorce from Jenny after catching her cheating with billionaire Thad Deont. Thad was younger and wealthier than Brad, which explained Jenny's actions. Darla and I found the situation ironic. After Jenny married
Thad, she moved out of the Chesterton school district, and Glenda lived with us full-time. Shortly after Alma passed away, I convinced Jon to sell his house and move in with us. Darla hired him to renovate the ranch, and together we expanded the house to include a dining area for ranch workers and a larger office for my business. Brad, ever petty, tried to block our building permit but failed. Jon oversaw the construction, completing most of the work himself. About a year after Jenny's marriage to Thad, she filed for divorce again. Rumors swirled that Thad had cheated
on her with an 18-year-old, and later I learned the truth: Thad had married Jenny just to spite Brad. Karma, it seemed, had caught up with her. Life moved on, filled with gratitude for Darla, our family, the ranch, and my thriving business. The pain and anger from the past had faded, replaced by peace. Jenny was now just a distant memory, a closed chapter. The years brought challenges: Mark survived a serious car accident, breaking his leg and wrist, and Jon had a mild stroke but recovered well with therapy. Darla, ever strong, seemed immune to illness, saying she
didn't have time to be sick with four kids, the ranch, and me to manage. I wasn't as lucky; persistent fatigue and headaches led to a diagnosis of a clogged artery. Darla dragged me to the doctor just in time, and I underwent a life-saving triple bypass surgery. Even from the hospital bed, I felt better. One evening after dinner, Darla surprised me with a question: "Have you ever thought about getting back with Jenny?" I turned to her, shocked. "Why would you ask that? You're my wife, and this is the life I want." Relieved, she rested her head
on my shoulder. That was the last time the topic ever came up. One day, I ran into Brad at a hospital while waiting for a routine checkup. I noticed an elderly man sitting across from me who looked frail and worn down. When he looked up, I realized it was Brad. "Brad, what a surprise," I said, extending my hand. He shook it weakly. "You won," he said, sounding defeated. "Won what?" I asked, confused. "I really loved her," he said, his voice cracking. "I thought she loved me too." I realized he was talking about Jenny. "Yes, she
has a way of making people fall for her," I replied carefully, "but Jenny's biggest flaw is that she thinks money equals happiness. She never got over being poor." Brad sighed deeply. "Now I understand how you felt when Jenny left you. How did you get through it?" "One day at a time and with the help of a loving woman," I answered. "There's no easy way." Brad's eyes teared up. "It's too late for me," he said quietly. "I love Jenny with all my heart, but I have stage four cancer. I wanted to apologize for what I did.
I know it was wrong to pursue a married woman. I hope you can forgive me." Looking at the old man, I felt a mix of emotions. I'd once hated him, but now all I felt was pity. "Brad, there was a time when I hated you, but that's over. If you want my forgiveness, you have it." Brad smiled weakly. "Thank you," he said, and left. He passed away five months later. Darla and I attended his funeral, and I was surprised by how few people showed up. Jenny was there, visibly upset, not only about Brad's end of
life but also with me. "You had to come and gloat, didn't you?" she snapped. "You wanted everyone to know you won." I was furious. "You left him for a man with more money, and now you're crying over his end of life. Brad apologized to me months ago, and I forgave him. Have you ever apologized to him?" I didn't wait for her response; I grabbed Darla's hand and walked out. was quiet until Darla broke the silence. "Who pooped in your crispy crumbs this morning?" she asked, making me laugh. Darla always knew how to make me smile.
When Brad's will was read, I was surprised he left most of his fortune to charity and his alma mater, but also $2 million to Jenny. With money from two wealthy husbands and this inheritance, Jenny was doing just fine. She bought an apartment near the ranch and tried reconnecting with the kids, but they didn't want to go there. The place was more suited to single people, and there wasn't much for the kids to do. I encouraged the kids to make an effort, but it didn't last. Eventually, Jenny gave up and started dating a string of boyfriends.
The kids seemed relieved not to spend time at her house, and if they were happy, so was I. I was proud of our kids. Mark graduated from Georgia Tech with a degree in engineering and works in Austin. He married Cindy Stubbin, a fellow engineer, and they have two daughters. Glenda became a veterinarian after attending Texas A&M. She worked with Dr. Sam Turner before opening her own practice, which she later merged with Todd Amberson, a younger vet. They married and now have three kids. Darla and I love having our grandkids around; they spend more time at
the ranch than at home, and Jenny's dad often spends more time with them than anyone else. Elma, my daughter, graduated from the University of Texas with a teaching degree and now teaches third grade. She married Jerry, a chemistry teacher, and they're expecting their first child soon. I couldn't be happier. I adore being a grandparent. Grandkids are great; you get to spoil them, and when they get fussy, you can just hand them back. Mark married Sally, a woman he met while on vacation in England. She's small, only 5'1" tall, with long dark hair and violet eyes.
I joke that she's like a mini Elizabeth Taylor. They have three kids, and Sally's pregnant with a fourth. It's amazing how she manages to carry them given her size. Time flew by, and Darla and I recently celebrated our 30th anniversary. Over the years, I've hardly seen Jenny. The kids occasionally talk to her, but they don't visit much. From what they tell me, she's not the same. She's no longer the hot woman she once was and hasn't had a boyfriend in years. Jenny still calls her dad every couple of months, but at almost 90, he's slowing
down. When I asked him why his conversations with her were so short, he admitted he didn't know what to say. It made me feel sad for him. One Christmas, I went to the mall for last-minute shopping. I'm terrible at picking gifts, so I just buy gift cards to avoid mistakes. After I finished, I went to the food court to grab a Chick-fil-A sandwich and spotted Jenny sitting alone. She was watching people pass by, especially families. She had gained a little weight and had some wrinkles, but the loneliness in her eyes was what stood out. I
decided to sit with her. "Mind if I join you?" I asked, setting my food down. "What do you want?" she snapped. Taken aback by her hostility, I stood up. "I don't need anything; just wanted to say hi. I'll find another table." Jenny softened. "No, I'm sorry. The holidays bring out the worst in me. Please sit." I sat down, feeling a mix of emotions. After a long pause, she spoke. "Christmas shopping?" I asked. "No," she replied. "I haven't done that since Brad and I divorced. Now I just send checks, and the kids appreciate it, especially for
the grandkids' college funds." "Sounds like they're grateful," I said. She nodded, watching a couple with a stroller. "They send thank you notes." "So what brings you here? I thought you didn't care much for shopping." "I just wanted to be around people," she said. "Everyone in my house is away for the holidays." I felt a pang of sympathy but quickly dismissed it. "What about Christmas? You're not going to sit alone in your apartment?" "Of course not," she said bitterly. "I have reservations at Cha Franchescas and a movie with Tom Hanks." "No, you're coming to the ranch,"
I insisted. "The kids, grandkids, and your dad will be there. You'll have a good time." "I can't," she said. "I'd be an inconvenience." "Nonsense," I replied. "It's settled. If you want to see the kids open presents, be there by 7:00 a.m. Dinner's at 3:00, but come when you like." Jenny looked conflicted, but I stood firm. "You're coming." Darla wasn't thrilled when I told her. "Why invite her?" she asked, clearly uncomfortable. I hugged her. "Is my wife jealous?" "Stop it, Mike. This is serious. She'll make everyone feel awkward." "Jenny said the same thing," I said, but
I couldn't let her spend Christmas alone. "She's their mother, Darla. It's Christmas." JN overheard and smiled. "I'm glad you invited her. She's still their mother." On Christmas Day, Jenny didn't show up—not for the presents or dinner. By then, I'd figured she wasn't coming, and I noticed Jon was downcast, sitting quietly. I sent my youngest granddaughter, Christe, to play with him, knowing it would cheer him up. Soon he was on the floor playing Candyland with her. Around 5:30, I was surprised when the doorbell rang. To my surprise, it was Jenny, dressed as if she were going
out to dinner. "Hi," I said, a little surprised. "I was starting to give up on you." "I still think it might be a mistake," Jenny said uncertainly. "No, not at all," I reassured her. "You missed dinner, but we'll have dessert soon. I can heat up leftovers if you want something to eat." "No, dessert sounds great," Jenny replied as I welcomed her inside. I called out, "Hey everyone, look who's here! Jenny's here for dessert!" The grandkids immediately rushed over, eager to include her in their game. Mark and Glenda gave her hugs and wished her a Merry
Christmas, and to my surprise, even hugged her. The evening went smoothly from there. Jenny was a bit nervous at first, but as she realized everyone was comfortable, she began to relax. It was nice to see Jenny and her father talking and laughing together. Despite her calmness, it was clear she was still unsure about being in Darla in my house. As for me, I couldn't help but observe Jenny. She was still attractive, but I was surprised I didn't feel anything for her beyond her being the mother of my kids. After the grandkids settled down, the adults
decided to use the hot tub, though none of us were interested in getting in at 34°. JN gave it a try but quickly returned, saying, "You'd have to be crazy to sit in a hot tub in that cold." We all gathered around the fireplace, drinks in hand, with the Christmas tree lights twinkling. For a while, we sat in silence watching the fire. I noticed tears rolling down Jenny's face. "Are you okay?" I asked, surprised by the tears. "I'll be fine," Jenny replied softly, wiping her eyes. We didn't comment on it and let the silence continue.
A few minutes later, Jenny spoke up. "I almost didn't come. I was afraid I'd just confirm what I already knew—I've made a mess of my life." "You're being too hard on yourself," Darla said, reassuring her. "I've seen pictures of you and Brad. You loved him; same with Thad. Not every marriage works, and half of them end in divorce." "I did love Brad," Jenny said, wiping her tears, "and I still loved you, Mike. But I loved his money and power more. We were good together for years, but I let him drive a wedge between me and
my kids. As he aged, he had health issues, and I started cheating on him before I even started dating Thad." Her voice cracked as she continued, "I saw the same pain in Brad's eyes that I saw in yours, Mike. I suspected Thad was cheating from the start, and when I caught him, he just laughed and told me he only married me to spite Brad. That's when I realized how you and Brad must have felt." I paused before responding. "After I was done with that, I swore off marriage. I just wanted to enjoy life, so I
had a series of meaningless affairs." That was as close as Jenny came to an apology. She drained her glass, stood up, and said, "I need to go." Jon and I tried to convince her to stay, but she refused. We walked her to the car, where her father hugged her tightly and told her he loved her. Jenny's tears flowed again, but she wiped them away before getting into the car. She gave me a big hug and said, "Thank you," then Jenny left. I don't know what the future holds for us. It seems Jenny regrets many of
her choices, but whether she'll reunite with her family is up to her. The house feels quiet now, with only the occasional crackle from the fire. I couldn't help but feel sorry for Jenny, seeing the sadness in her. As for me, I regretted the time I'd wasted trying to get back at Jenny and Brad. Watching the fire, I remembered a Bible verse: "Time and chance happen to all." In the end, time proved to be the greatest form of retribution. [Music] [Applause] [Music] [Applause] [Music]
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