Shithead and Sarah have been like famiIy to my wife and I for several years, practically ever since we moved in across the street from them. The four of us were extremely tight. Our kids are the same age as theirs and are all good friends. We were one big family unit. We did dinner together a few times a week. We went on vacations together.
I truly saw Shithead as a brother, and my wife and Sarah were very close too.
Five months ago, I was completely blindsided by the discovery of an affair between my wife and Shithead. My wife had left her emaiI open on our computer, and I saw an email from her to her longtime therapist saying that Shithead would be joining her at an upcoming session “again.”
Uh, WTF? My mind started racing – why in the world would Shithead be going to her therapy sessions without my knowledge? I did a search and found some other emails to and from the therapist proving that Shithead had been going to sessions together with her for about six weeks.
I checked our mobile phone account and discovered that, since late summer, they had been exchanging hundreds of texts every day, peaking at nearIy 500/day by the holidays. Speaking of the holidays, my wife and I hosted both of our families (parents, siblings, etc) for both Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner, and Shithead and Sarah joined us either for dinner or after dinner on both holidays.
Text records showed that the entire time that they were at our house celebrating with our families, my wife and Shithead were texting each other across the room. They were doing that pretty much every time the four of us hung out, for months. And, you know, all day every day just in generaI. But what bothers me the most is that they were doing it with Sarah and I right there.
I confronted my wife with the evidence and she admitted that yes, she and Shithead had fallen in love. “It just happened! I don’t know how! But I love him and I just don’t feeI anything for you anymore, I’m sorry!” They had gone on a school district trip together, something had happened in her hotel room, and things had moved quickly from there. She explained, as I lay face-down on the couch, unable to look at her, that they had already made plans to move out and divorce me and Sarah, and while they didn’t plan to move in together immediately because of the kids, they’d probably do so eventually.
The meetings with the therapist were supposedly mostly for the purpose of finding a way to break this to me and Sarah as gently as possible, because they were so very concerned for our well-being. (Sarah and I are fairly certain that they weren’t pIanning on telling us about the affair at all, and were simply going to “discover” their feelings for one another several months down the line, after they’d come up with some other reason to divorce the two of us.)
My wife moved out two months ago. I was, and still am, utterly destroyed. I cry every day. I cried writing the first few paragraphs of this story just now. I worry non-stop about the impact on our kids. But I am also not exactly a shrinking vioIet when I feel that I’ve been wronged. And in this case I was, objectively, very very wronged.
So, a couple of years ago, Shithead ran for a Board of Education seat as a pretty extreme underdog. I helped him with his campaign materials and debate prep, and my wife, a well-known school district employee (this becomes important later), got the word out as best she couId. Much to our surprise, he actually won in a squeaker, by just a few dozen votes.
Being on the Board became the center of Shithead’s world. He joined every committee that he could. This turned into the foundation of his affair with my wife, as they were constantly going to school events and meetings together on evenings and weekends.
Once I discovered the affair, my thoughts turned pretty quickly to revenge, and it occurred to me that an extramarital affair between a member of the Board of Education and an employee of the school district was at least bad poIitics and possibly vioIated district policy. Making things far worse for them was that my wife was in the running for an open administrative position, and everyone knew that she was more or less guaranteed the job and the major pay raise that came with it. She had just finished her master’s degree in school administration, at the urging of her principal and the superintendent, so that she could be promoted to this specific position.
I had plenty of evidence of the affair – texts from both of them admitting to it, text records showing that they were texting hundreds of times a day, emails to and from the therapist, etc. I considered simply emailing all of the evidence to the Board and the superintendent, but felt like I, as the grieving, betrayed spouse, might not be seen as a credible source.
So instead, I invented a fictitious “furious friend” who was planning on showing up to the next Board meeting and publicly shaming the two of them for their affair. I told my wife that I’d tried to taIk this person down but couldn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t show up and humiliate them publicly. As I expected, this led Shithead to conclude that the only option was for him to preemptively admit the affair to the Board. The superintendent subsequently recommended that Shithead resign, which he did. Sarah said that he was utterly humiliated and crushed, and barely got out of bed for a few days afterward.
Once word of the affair and Shithead’s resignation started getting around, the superintendent (a longtime friend of both my wife and Shithead) contacted my wife and tearfully informed her that it was no Ionger politically appropriate for her to be promoted to an administrative position within the district.
The position that had been lined up for her was later filled by an outside candidate. This sent waves of confusion and rumor throughout the district, as it was pretty well-known that my wife was getting the job. The day after she was informed that she wasn’t getting the promotion, my wife and I, despite our crumbling marriage, took our son out to breakfast together on his birthday, and a parent stopped by our table to congratulate her on her new roIe. She said thanks, then excused herself to go cry in the bathroom for a while.
I let the dust settle for a couple of weeks, and then, right before my wife moved out, let them in on my little secret – there was never a “furious friend” threatening to expose them in the first place. Just me.
Word of all of this has gotten around our fairly small town, which Shithead grew up in and my wife has worked in for nearly 20 years. My wife refuses to taIk to me about how things are at work now, but I’ve heard from some people I know in the district that her formerly spotless reputation has taken a major hit.
Shithead, formerly a gregarious social presence in our neighborhood and at events and pubs in town, has completely gone underground and barely emerges to mow his lawn. He’s moving out soon, to a shitty little townhouse which is all he can afford due to all the child support he’s going to have to pay his wife.
My wife and Shithead claim that they plan on trying to make things work together, despite all the public humiliation. I wish them lots of Iuck with that. I’m sure it will be a lot of fun to show their faces together in town.
A Millionaire Gifted Me a House as a Mother of 5 – When I Entered and Read the Note Left Inside, I Froze in Shock
hen the eviction notice came, I thought I had reached the end of my rope. But a mysterious invitation and an offer from a millionaire changed everything—and not in the way I expected.
I never expected my life to change the way it did that day.
Woman in deep thoughts | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, you’re zoning out again,” Emily’s voice pulled me back to the kitchen, where chaos was the norm. Danny was chasing Leo around the table, and the twins were in a squabble over the last slice of toast.
“I’m fine, sweetheart,” I said, forcing a smile. The truth was, I wasn’t. Raising five kids alone since Mark passed away two years ago had been like living in a storm with no shelter.
Mother cleaning dishes with her kids playing in the background | Source: Midjourney
Bills piled up, grief lingered in every corner, and the Eviction Notice that came a few weeks back was the final blow. We had a month to leave, and I had no idea where we’d go.
Just days before we were supposed to pack up and leave, another letter slipped through my mailbox, landing among the clutter of overdue bills. Unlike the others, this envelope was plain, with no return address, just my name scrawled across it. My hands shook as I tore it open, half-expecting bad news.
Closed envelope | Source: Pexels
But inside, I found something I never imagined: an invitation to a gala. Not just any gala, but one hosted by Lucas Hargrove—the millionaire philanthropist everyone was talking about.
His name was across the news, attached to stories of grand gestures and life-changing donations. I gasped as I read the last line of the letter: “This night promises a surprise for those in need.”
Woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Emily asked, peering over the couch, eyes wide with worry.
I forced a smile. “It’s… an invitation to a gala.”
“A gala?” Her brows knitted together. “Like, with rich people and fancy food?”
“Yeah, something like that,” I said, more to convince myself than her. It felt ridiculous—me, at a gala? But deep inside I felt hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, this could be more than a pointless distraction.
Woman holding a letter while talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney
The night of the event, I smoothed down the only decent dress I owned and hugged my mom goodbye. “Watch them close, okay?”
She nodded, eyes filled with understanding. “Good luck, Sarah. Maybe tonight’s your night.”
I stepped into the venue, immediately swallowed by a sea of sequins, diamonds, and sharp suits. Crystal chandeliers cast dazzling reflections, and the air buzzed with the hum of conversation. I felt out of place.
Woman attending a gala | Source: Midjourney
Then I saw him. Lucas Hargrove stood at the podium, tall and magnetic, with eyes that seemed to scan the room as if searching for someone specific. My breath caught when he leaned into the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice boomed, silencing the chatter. “Tonight, we’re here not just to celebrate, but to change lives. As part of my new campaign, I am offering something special to those who deserve it most—homes for families in need.”
Philanthropist giving a speech at a fancy gala | Source: Midjourney
The room gasped, the sound electric. I felt my knees tremble, gripping the edge of a nearby chair for support. Before I could steady myself, his eyes met mine, and a small smile curled his lips.
“Sarah Williams,” he said, clear and confident. “A mother of five, facing hardships most of us can’t imagine. Your strength and perseverance have caught my attention. Tonight, I want to offer you a house.”
The room exploded into applause, the sound of a roar that pressed into my chest. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was living a dream I’d never dared to have.
Crowd applauding | Source: Midjourney
Someone pushed me forward, and I stumbled onto the stage, my vision blurring with unshed tears.
“Are you serious?” I whispered, barely audible above the cheers.
Lucas leaned closer, his voice kind but firm. “Yes, Sarah. You deserve this.”
Tears finally spilled over, and I managed one shaky, disbelieving word. “Why?”
His eyes softened, and with a sincerity that silenced even my doubts, he said, “Because someone needs to remind you that hope still exists.”
Philanthropist congratulating a widow who was awarded a home | Source: Midjourney
That night, after the event, I was given keys to a beautiful home. Not just any house, but a mansion in a quiet, upscale neighborhood.
The sun streamed through the tall windows as I stood in the living room, surrounded by stacks of packed boxes. The kids’ laughter echoed through the halls as they explored every corner.
“Mom! There’s a pool!” Danny shouted from somewhere down the hallway, followed by the twins’ shrill giggles.
Emily appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with wonder. “This place is huge, Mom. Are we… are we really going to live here?”
Woman and her daughter in a new home | Source: Midjourney
I nodded slowly, trying to ground myself. It still felt like a dream I was about to wake up from. The mansion was far from the cramped apartment where I’d spent nights pacing the floor, calculating how to stretch a dollar.
“It’s real, Em,” I whispered, fighting the tears that pricked at my eyes. “This is our home now.”
As the kids’ footsteps pounded upstairs, I let out a shaky breath and ventured into the master bedroom. The room was cavernous, with high ceilings and an elegant chandelier.
But my gaze landed on the bed, where a small white envelope lay, pristine against the soft gray comforter. My heart pounded as I picked it up, the familiar script making my fingers tremble.
While envelope on the bed | Source: Midjourney
I opened it, eyes scanning the words quickly:
“Dear Sarah, I know this may seem overwhelming, but this house is just the beginning. My campaign is not only about giving away homes. It’s about giving second chances. You’ve been struggling for so long, and I want to help you more than just this one time. But there’s something I need from you in return.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. In return? My eyes darted around the room, suddenly wary. What could Lucas possibly want from me? My thoughts raced, each one more anxious than the last. The note wasn’t finished.
Woman holding a white envelop | Source: Midjourney
I read the words again, my vision blurring as they sank in. “I need someone to stand as the face of this campaign… In return for this house, I ask that you share your journey with the world.”
My hands clenched the note so tightly it crumpled at the edges. To Lucas, this wasn’t just an act of generosity—it was a headline, a public relations boost. And I was the centerpiece.
“Mom?” Emily’s voice called from down the hall, startling me. I took a deep breath and smoothed out the note, the paper softening in my hands.
Mother and daughter talking | Source: Midjourney
“Coming!” I called back, my voice stronger than I felt.
I walked out to find Leo and Danny sprawled on the living room floor, their giggles bubbling as they played with a toy car they’d found in one of the boxes. Emily was by the window, watching me closely.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” She tilted her head, worry creeping into her young eyes.
I knelt in front of her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. Just a lot to think about.”
Her gaze flickered to the note still clenched in my hand. “Is it about Mr. Lucas?”
Mother and daughter talking | Source: Midjourney
“Yes,” I admitted, swallowing hard. “He wants me to share our story—to tell everyone about how we got here and what we’ve been through.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Like, on TV? To everyone?”
I nodded. “It’s a choice I have to make. But you know what, Em? This is more than just his story—it’s ours. And if sharing it means we get to keep this, to start over, then I’ll do it. On my terms.”
Emily’s face softened into a smile. “Then tell them, Mom. Tell them how strong you are.”
I exhaled, the tension in my chest easing. “We will, Em. Together, we’ll tell them.”
Woman holding a white envelope | Source: Midjourney
In the months that followed, life changed in ways I couldn’t have predicted. Lucas’ campaign roared to life, splashed across newspapers and screens. But it wasn’t just his story anymore—it was mine, too.
I stood in front of cameras, my voice trembling as I recounted late nights spent crying in the dark, the days when there wasn’t enough food. I recalled the moments I’d had to summon a smile for my kids while my world was falling apart.
“Mom, they’re talking about you on the news again!” Danny called from the living room, his eyes wide with excitement. The TV showed footage of me standing in front of the house, Lucas beside me, a polished smile on his face.
Man and woman standing infront of a luxurious house | Source: Midjourney
But the narrative had shifted. It wasn’t just about his philanthropy; it was about resilience, hope, and what happens when a community comes together.
People reached out—mothers who felt alone, widows navigating a storm of grief, and fathers working three jobs to keep the lights on. Donations poured in, but so did letters and stories, each one a reminder that I wasn’t alone in my struggle.
One night, after the kids had gone to bed, I sat at the kitchen table with Emily, who had taken to reading the letters with me. She picked up a bright yellow envelope and grinned.
Young girl holding a yellow envelope | Source: Midjourney
“This one’s from California, Mom. A single dad who says he started a fundraiser because he was inspired by our story.”
I smiled back, the tightness in my chest now something warm and unfamiliar. “It’s incredible, isn’t it? How many people have been helped because of this?”
Emily nodded, eyes glistening with the same pride I felt. “You did that, Mom.”
“No, we did,” I said, hugging her.
Mother and daughter hugging | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another that will keep you hooked: I saw a wealthy woman leave a baby stroller by the dumpster — my life changed forever after I looked inside. Click here to read the full story.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided as “is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Leave a Reply