I thought my marriage was solid until a glance at my wife’s payment statement revealed a strange pattern: expenses on baby items, pediatricians, and kindergarten, none of which made sense since we didn’t have kids. Confused and concerned, I followed her, only to uncover she was leading a double life.
As a 33-year-old lawyer, my specialty was infidelity and how to get the aggrieved person the best deal. But my knack for it changed my life.
One day, I was driving home through the bustling city as the sun set. My career had taught me the value of trust in marriage, a principle I cherished, especially now, being newly married to Natalie, the woman I deeply loved.
Fragment of a car parked | Source: Shutterstock
That evening, as I pulled into my driveway, the absence of Natalie’s car made me frown. She was usually home by this time, her punctuality being one of her defining traits. But things had changed recently as she was home much later than me these days.
The quiet house amplified my unease. The silence inside was unsettling, and due to my line of work, doubts raced through my mind. A particularly unwelcome yet persistent thought emerged: “Could Natalie be cheating on me?”
Fortunately, hours later, Natalie returned, looking exhausted, but I couldn’t contain my words. “Where have you been? You’ve been late a lot. Is there something you’re not telling me?” And finally, I asked if she was being unfaithful.
Her reaction was one of shock. “Hank, I love you. I could never cheat on you. I’ve just been busy grading tests at school,” she assured me, sighing. That made sense. Natalie was a dedicated teacher, so I nodded and tried to let it go.
Girl pointing finger on screen | Source: Shutterstock
But while sharing dinner and stories of our day, a message on Natalie’s phone shattered any semblance of peace. “Honey, will you be there tomorrow?” I glanced at it and was surprised by the intimacy.
She quickly deleted the message and tried to keep talking about her day.
I interrupted her without a second thought. “What was that?” I asked, my voice heavy with suspicion.
“What do you mean?” she looked puzzled or was faking her expression.
“The message. I saw what it said,” I pressed, frowning.
Sad tired young woman | Source: Shutterstock
Natalie sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Hank, it’s not what you think,” she tried to reassure me and showed me her phone to prove it was a wrong number.
But skepticism clouded my judgment, and my appetite vanished.
Later, in bed, the message replayed in my mind, not allowing me to sleep. Natalie lay beside me, seemingly peaceful, as she gently snored. My doubts grew, and I knew what I had to do. It was wrong, but I needed to know the truth.
Carefully, I used her finger to unlock her phone and found a contact named “Rabbit,” including conversations with an unknown number about getting together and happened on days Natalie had come home late.
Close-up of a hand holding a smartphone in bed | Source: Shutterstock
I also decided to check her bank statements. That was always a major clue in my cases. My heart sank as I pieced together the evidence of her secret life, including payments for children’s toys and hospital bills. Did she have a child I didn’t know about? Did she call the kid ‘Rabbit’?
More importantly, who was the father?
Natalie woke briefly, so I scrambled to put her phone discreetly away and pretended I was falling asleep. But inside, I was distraught. The idea of her leading a double life was overwhelming.
The next morning, I woke determined to follow Natalie to her work. I reached the school and parked discreetly, watching the entrance until Natalie suddenly appeared and drove off.
I followed, my heart pounding with each turn, until she stopped at a run-down house in a modest neighborhood. I waited a few minutes before exiting my car and peering through a window.
Man watching neighbours | Source: Shutterstock
I saw Natalie with a man, and the atmosphere between them was cozy. They were familiar with each other in an intimate way. I was sure of it, but my jaw dropped as I watched her lean forward and kiss the man on the cheek.
I wanted to investigate more and decided to hide in some bushes near the fence. That was when I saw Natalie emerging from the house, rolling a little girl in a wheelchair. They both smiled at each other, and I stared, mouth-agapped at them.
I was so mesmerized that I didn’t see a dog coming near me until its bark made me jump. It alerted Natalie, who looked around the yard, her eyes panicked. I tried to calm the dog. Then, I heard her.
“Who’s there? I’m calling the police!” Natalie yelled out, not recognizing me in the chaos. I ran off with the dog biting at my ankles and scrambled over the fence, ripping my pants in the process. I could only hope my wife didn’t recognize me.
Aggressive dog barks | Source: Shutterstock
Back in my car, the image of Natalie with the little girl in the wheelchair haunted me. I drove home, my mind swirling with fear, doubt, and dread about confronting my wife.
Once home, I changed my torn clothes and waited on the bed. Finally, hearing her car, I steeled myself and went to the living room. Natalie entered the house, apologizing for being late due to work.
I watched her, noticing her disheveled appearance, and cut to the chase, “Natalie, stop. I know everything.”
Frowning, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I know you’re cheating on me,” I accused bluntly.
Boyfriend and girlfriend are arguing | Source: Shutterstock
She was taken aback, denying it and attributing her late nights to work. I pressed about the suspicious messages.
“Hank. You went into my phone?” she asked, appalled.
“Yes! Yes! I went into your phone. I’m the bad guy, right? It’s me spending money on another family,” I retorted, my words dripping with sarcasm and hurt.
Natalie was visibly shaken. “What are you talking about? What other family?”
“I saw everything, Natalie. I saw it with my own eyes. You don’t work late at school, but go to some man and girl,” I continued.
“You followed me?”
Emotional annoyed stressed couple | Source: Shutterstock
“Yes,” I confessed, unashamed.
“I can’t believe this,” Natalie threw her arms in the air and stomped to our bedroom. I waited a few seconds and followed, only to see her packing.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. A hotel or something,” she said, stuffing her bag roughly.
“Fine,” I snapped and turned to leave, but I saw her phone lying on the bed and grabbed it. Back in the living room, I installed a tracking app, just in case. Then, I went back to the bedroom, returning the phone to where she left it.
But I saw her face and the pain I had inflicted. I didn’t want to be angry anymore and started pleading with her to stay. “Let’s talk,” I said. “We can fix this. You don’t have to leave.”
Untidy Teenage Bedroom | Source: Shutterstock
“Yes, I do,” Natalie snapped, zipping her back. “And for your information, the man and child you saw are my brother and niece.”
I felt my eyebrows go up. “Why have I never met them before?!” I demanded. But she didn’t answer and went around me, ignoring me as I followed.
She slammed the front door, and I stayed back, reeling. In a fit of rage, I swept off the items on our mantel and screamed my frustrations out. Breathing heavily, I realized I needed to know more, so I searched our bedroom.
Shockingly, I discovered a hidden compartment in her wardrobe containing a gun, several fake passports, a bag of money, and a newspaper clipping about a bank robbery.
“What?” I breathed out. “Who did I marry?”
Man’s hand open Full Black Duffel Bag | Source: Shutterstock
I was in a daze. Wrapping the items in a bag, I placed them in my car’s trunk and drove to the hotel nearby, where Natalie must have been staying. Fortunately, I was right and discreetly bribed the receptionist to get Natalie’s room number.
I knocked outside her door, disguising my voice as room service. She opened the door and crossed her arms. “What else do you want to talk about, Hank? I already said I am not cheating on you,” she sighed.
“I believe you didn’t cheat on me,” I interrupted. I then presented the bag, asking her to explain the gun, fake documents, and money.
Natalie sighed, inviting me inside and admitting her involvement with bad people and a bank robbery to pay for her niece’s urgent surgery. I listened in shock, rubbing my chin as I processed.
Bank robbery of the century | Source: Shutterstock
“You robbed a bank?” I whispered.
“Yes,” she admitted quietly. “There was no other way. My ‘Rabbit’…I mean, my niece, Katie, was dying. My brother, Tom, didn’t have the money. I had to do something. This was before you and I even met.”
“We have to tell the police, Nat. But my friend, Luke, is the best criminal defense attorney in the state,” I began, my lawyer mind planning. “You can’t live this double life, waiting for the sword to drop. Come home with me, and we’ll think of a solution.”
Natalie stared into my eyes, and I saw all the fear she must have felt for years since her bank robbery. But I held her hand. I’d be there for her through it all. Finally, she nodded, and we drove home.
At home, Natalie made tea, and we sat at the kitchen table to drink it. I talked about contacting Luke, who could help her get a good deal, but my eyes got droopy all of a sudden. I remembered Natalie guiding me to my bed but nothing else.
Close-up of man holding knife | Source: Shutterstock
I woke up disoriented the next morning. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my head. A strange redness in the sheets caught my attention, and when my vision focused, I saw a knife covered in blood on the other side of the bed.
I remembered the tea, and it all clicked. Did she want to frame me? To pretend she was dead?
“Natalie!” I screamed, standing and swaying on my feet. I noticed a trail of blood leading out of the bedroom, and I gasped at the state of my place. The house was in disarray. Furniture was overturned, and the living room was a scene of destruction, worse than what I had done last night.
I kept calling for my wife. I tried to wipe some of the blood with my hand, but it only made it worse. Finally, I saw movement outside, and I peered through the blinds. Two policemen were talking to my neighbor, and I heard him mention screaming coming from our house.
I looked sideways, and my car looked like it had been driven through rough terrain, but I had no memory of leaving the house. The two cops came over and started knocking, but I scrambled to the bedroom, dressed, grabbed Natalie’s pistol, and jumped out of the window.
Male eyes spying through roller blind | Source: Shutterstock
They saw and ran after me, but I knew the neighborhood better. I kept thinking I needed to find Natalie and understand the truth. But I couldn’t do that if I was caught. The scene at the house was too crazy. Natalie had done an excellent job trying to appear like I had hurt her.
I hid somewhere and saw the two cops running off in the opposite direction. I waited, feeling worse by the second. After a while, I cautiously emerged from my hiding spot, using the tracking app on my phone to find my wife while my fingers trembled.
The app led me to an empty road, where I found Natalie’s phone discarded in the tall grass, a clear sign that all this had been on purpose. Frustrated but not deterred, I decided to visit Natalie’s brother’s house.
Taking a taxi, I arrived at his place and knocked relentlessly. When Tom opened it, I didn’t waste time on pleasantries. I pulled out the gun, aiming it at his face, and, with a steady hand, I walked in as he retreated with his hands in the air.
Revolver in hand | Source: Shutterstock
Once in, I demanded he call Natalie immediately. When the call connected, I didn’t mince words.
“Hi, Natalie. You sound very much alive for someone who’s supposed to be dead. Contrary to your plans, I haven’t been detained. But Tom here isn’t doing so well. I have a gun pointed at him, and if you don’t come here within the next 6 hours, I will kill both Tom and Katie.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” she gasped.
I scoffed angrily. “Want to test me? I don’t think so.”
“Hank, please,” Natalie begged.
I cut her off. “You have 6 hours.”
Beauty girl cry | Source: Shutterstock
***
I waited, the gun never leaving my hand as Tom and his daughter sat on the opposite couch. I knew I was supposed to feel bad, but I was beyond caring at that point.
The front door burst open, and my wife walked in. She froze after seeing her pistol and her brother and niece scared. “Hank, I beg you. Let them go,” Natalie begged.
“Why did you do this, Nat? Why did you fake your death?” I stood in a flash, spitting my questions.
“I don’t want to go to prison. You wanted to turn me in. I couldn’t take that risk.”
“I love you, Natalie. We could have faced everything together,” I spat.
“But in prison, I would have been alone,” she said, looking away.
Handcuffs | Source: Shutterstock
My lips were shaking as I tried to come up with a solution that wouldn’t destroy our lives, but the police startled us, coming into the house with their arms out. They went right at me, and I knew I deserved to be arrested for threatening Tom and Katie, but I told them everything my wife did.
With her eyes down, Natalie finally admitted the truth, and they arrested her. As they took her away, our eyes met one last time, a silent goodbye.
I turned to Tom then. “I’m truly sorry for all the anxiety I caused you. I didn’t want to, but I needed Natalie to come, and this was the only way.”
The police arrested me, too. Sitting in the patrol car, I tried to justify my actions, “Understand, I had no other choice. I needed her to come.”
Police lights at night in the city | Source: Shutterstock
“No goal justifies threatening anyone at gunpoint. You should’ve called the police, explained what happened, and let us handle it.”
Reflecting on those words, I realized the magnitude of my missteps and how I wished I could go back and start over. But I could only do better in the future, starting by calling Luke. I desperately needed his help.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this: Hailey goes on vacation, looking for a calm break from her past problems. At a grocery store, she’s shocked to see a man who looks exactly like her husband, who she was sure died in a plane crash. Wanting to know more, Hailey rushed to him, especially since all her money went missing right before he supposedly died.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
The House Was So Cheap I Thought I Won the Lottery, but When I Saw the Basement, I Understood Everything — Story of the Day
was tired of paying rent my whole life and was ready to fulfill my dream of buying my own house. A dream home at an unbeatable price seemed like the ultimate win—until I realized there were reasons for the low price hidden in the basement.
The first time I saw the house, I could hardly believe my luck.
It was like something from a postcard—a charming colonial with white siding and green shutters, tucked away at the end of a quiet, tree-lined street.
Sure, the paint was peeling a little, and the roof could use some work, but it had character. A lived-in charm that felt… welcoming. Almost.
Susan, the real estate agent, was waiting by the front door, her grin as bright as the clipboard of documents she waved in the air.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Perfect day to finalize your dream home, huh?” she said, her tone so chipper it made me wonder if she was trying a little too hard.
I nodded, eager to see inside. The house didn’t disappoint. Room by room, it seemed to reveal more reasons for me to fall in love.
The living room had a fireplace that practically begged for stockings at Christmas, and the hardwood floors creaked just enough to remind you they had a history.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Susan trailed behind me, her heels clicking against the floor as she narrated.
“You won’t find a deal like this anywhere else,” she said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“A home like this at this price? Practically unheard of.”
She was right, and I knew it. Still, something felt off—just a whisper of doubt at the back of my mind. It grew louder when we reached the basement door.
Unlike the others, this one had a lock. Not a simple latch, but a solid, heavy-duty lock that didn’t belong in a cozy house like this.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What’s down there?” I asked, pointing at the door.
Susan’s smile faltered, just for a second. She quickly recovered, but the hesitation had been enough.
“Oh, the basement,” she said, waving her hand as if to dismiss it. “Just your standard storage space. I… uh… misplaced the key. I’ll have it sent over later.”
Her voice wavered, and the way she avoided my gaze made my stomach twist. But I told myself I was overthinking it.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
After all, this was my dream house, right? A place where I could start afresh.
I signed the papers, and Susan left in a hurry, her heels clicking faster than before.
By the time I started unloading boxes from my car, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the street.
That’s when I noticed her—an older woman standing on the porch of the house next door.
Her face was a map of deep wrinkles, and her thin lips curled into a tight, disapproving line, like she’d just bitten into a lemon.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Hi there!” I called, trying to sound cheerful. “I’m your new neighbor.”
She didn’t answer. She just stared, her eyes narrowing before she turned and disappeared inside her house without a word.
The screen door slammed shut behind her.
I shrugged, telling myself she was probably just one of those grumpy types. Still, her silence gnawed at me.
I spent the rest of the day unpacking, trying to ignore the prickle of unease that lingered.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
By the time I collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted into a restless sleep, the house settling around me like it was testing me, deciding if I belonged.
I woke to a sound that pulled me from the depths of sleep, a sound I couldn’t quite place.
At first, I thought it might’ve been the wind rattling the old windows, but then it came again—soft and eerie, like a child’s giggle.
My heart started pounding, loud and insistent, and I lay still for a moment, straining to hear more. Was I dreaming?
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The giggle came again, clearer this time. High-pitched, carefree, and completely out of place in the stillness of the night.
My throat tightened as fear prickled down my spine. I sat up, scanning the darkened room.
Shadows stretched across the walls, and the only sound was the ticking of the old clock above the mantel. But the giggle was real. I knew it.
Swallowing my nerves, I grabbed the closest thing I could find—a mop leaning against the corner of the room.
My palms were already sweaty, and the handle felt slippery as I gripped it tightly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I crept through the house, the hardwood floors creaking beneath my feet. My breathing was shallow, and every step made my chest tighten further.
The sound grew louder as I approached the basement door. The lock on it glinted faintly in the dim light. I stopped, staring at the door as if it might move on its own.
My stomach churned as I raised the mop, holding it like a weapon. “Who’s there?” I called out, my voice shaking.
Silence. For a moment, I thought maybe the sound had been in my head.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Then it came again—a giggle, followed by a soft, whispering hush that sent goosebumps racing up my arms.
I couldn’t bring myself to open the door. Instead, I backed away, grabbing my phone and dialing 911 with trembling fingers.
The dispatcher’s calm voice tried to soothe me, but all I could do was stammer about the noises.
Twenty minutes felt like an eternity before the flashing red and blue lights finally appeared outside.
A single officer stepped out, his posture relaxed, his face unimpressed. “So, what’s going on here?” he asked, tilting his head toward me.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“There’s someone in the basement,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “I heard laughing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Laughing, huh?” With a sigh, he fetched a crowbar from his car and approached the door.
The sound of the lock snapping open echoed in the quiet house. I held my breath as he disappeared down the stairs, his flashlight casting strange, flickering shadows.
Minutes later, he reappeared, shaking his head.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Just cobwebs and dust,” he said, his tone dripping with skepticism. “Nothing down there.”
“But I heard it!” I protested, heat rising to my face.
He smirked, shrugging.
“You’re not the first. Last few owners said the same thing. If you’re scared, maybe this isn’t the house for you.”
I clenched my fists, my frustration bubbling. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Suit yourself, and good luck with the haunted house.” He left laughing, leaving me standing in the hallway, mop in hand, seething as the sound of his cruiser faded into the night.
The next morning, my phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the quiet stillness of the house.
I picked it up and glanced at the screen. A number I didn’t recognize. Hesitantly, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Margaret,” a thin, raspy voice said on the other end.
“The previous owner. Just checking in to see how you’re settling in.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her voice immediately put me on edge, like she already knew something I didn’t. I hesitated before replying.
“The house is lovely,” I said cautiously. “But… something strange happened last night.”
There was a pause. I could hear her breathing, soft and uneven. Then she sighed—a long, heavy sound that made my stomach drop.
“You’re not the first, Clara” she admitted finally.
“There’s… a history with that house. Some say it’s haunted. I’ve tried to fix it, but nothing ever helps.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Haunted? The word hung in the air like a fog. My fingers tightened around the phone. “What kind of history?” I asked, my voice firmer than I felt.
She dodged the question.
“If you want out, I’m willing to buy it back,” she said quickly, her tone almost desperate. “Not the full price, but close enough.”
Her offer was tempting. I wouldn’t have to deal with the creepy noises or the weird basement.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But the thought of giving up made my pride bristle. I’d worked hard for this house. I wasn’t about to walk away.
“No,” I said firmly. “I’ll figure this out.”
After we hung up, I grabbed a flashlight and headed for the basement. The air was cool and damp, carrying the stale smell of mildew.
I swept the beam of light across the basement. Dusty shelves, old pipes, and cobwebs filled my view.
Then I noticed something strange—scuff marks on the floor near the vent. Faint but deliberate, like something had been moved. My pulse quickened. Something wasn’t adding up.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
That night, I lay in bed, the blankets pulled tightly around me, every muscle tense. I kept my eyes on the ceiling, listening to the silence.
It wasn’t peaceful, though. It felt like the house was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Then, it came. The giggle. That same eerie, childlike sound that sent chills racing down my spine.
I sat up, heart pounding, but this time, it wasn’t just laughter. A faint hissing followed, like air escaping a tire.
My chest tightened as I slipped out of bed and tiptoed downstairs, each step creaking louder than I wanted.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
When I reached the basement door, I froze. A pale mist was creeping out from underneath, curling like ghostly fingers into the hallway.
My breath caught, and I fumbled for my phone, quickly dialing 911.
It wasn’t long before the now-familiar police cruiser pulled up. The same officer stepped out, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief.
“Again?” he said, shaking his head as he approached.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Before I could respond, another car pulled into the driveway. Margaret stepped out, her face pale and drawn, her movements nervous.
“I heard what’s happening,” she said, avoiding my gaze.
“Let’s all go down together,” I suggested, trying to keep my voice steady. The officer sighed but nodded, his flashlight already in hand.
Margaret hesitated, but with a glance at me, she reluctantly agreed.
The basement was just as empty as before—dusty shelves, cobwebs, and shadows.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“See? Nothing,” the officer said, his frustration obvious. “You sure you’re not imagining things?”
I wasn’t backing down. “I set up a camera,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let’s check the footage.”
I pressed play. The video showed Margaret sneaking into the basement.
She unlocked the door, placed a small speaker near the vent, and set up a fog machine before quickly leaving.
The officer’s jaw tightened. “Well, well,” he muttered. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a case.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Margaret’s face flushed red. “I… I was just trying to get the house back!” she stammered. “I didn’t mean any harm!”
The officer snapped handcuffs onto her wrists. “You can explain that to the judge.”
As they led her away, I stood in the doorway of my house, breathing deeply. For the first time, I felt like it was truly mine. I had fought for it, and I had won.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: It was a tough life for Molly. Her main concern was her son, Tommy. The constant changing of schools and towns wasn’t good for him. He started bullying other kids and starting fights. She never imagined that one call to the principal’s office would restore a part of her life she thought was lost.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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