He Bought His Mistress A Luxury Condo With My Money

The very afternoon we signed our marriage license at City Hall, I found out my husband was cheating on me. Staring at my phone screen, my hands wouldn't stop shaking. There were hundreds of intimate photos of my brand-new husband wrapped around another woman. The text from her felt like a series of slaps straight to my face: "He bought me a house. He bought me a car. We’ve even picked out a name for our baby." "Just let him go. You'll never be happy with him anyway." I scrolled through the photos over and over again, my heart turning into a pile of cold ashes. This was the same man who always told me he hated taking pictures, claimed his family was dirt poor, and swore he couldn't afford a home. Turns out, he didn't hate taking photos. He just hated taking them with me. "Let’s meet," her next text popped up. "Let's settle this face-to-face." She dropped an address: Grandview Manor. Just then, Ethan walked over from behind. His arms slipped gently around my waist. "Babe, you’re finally my wife! Where do you want to go celebrate tonight?" I stared blankly ahead and calmly read out that exact address. "Grandview Manor." "Sounds great! Whatever you want," Ethan beamed, a bright, boyish smile spreading across his face. "Wherever my wife wants to go, that's where we go. Today is our big day, and we're going to celebrate it right." As he spoke, he sprang into action. The moment I stood up, he had already scooped my purse into his hand. Then he grabbed a few tissues from the coffee table, folded them neatly, and slid them into his jacket pocket. "It's chilly outside. Keep these just in case your nose runs. I don't want you catching a cold." He hurried to the foyer, lined up my flat shoes, and knelt down, ready to help me slip into them. Watching him flutter around like a devoted puppy, a wave of unspeakable nausea hit me. For five years, he had been exactly like this. Attentive. Thoughtful. Impeccable down to the last detail. From planning entire road trips down to the minute, to tracking my monthly cycle, to knowing my exact clothing size and food preferences—he never missed a beat. All I had to do was show up, and he’d handle the rest. I used to count my blessings. Sure, he was broke and couldn't afford to buy an apartment, but his devotion seemed pure as gold. Only now did I realize that this relentless pampering was just the perfect camouflage for his betrayal. Because I trusted him completely, I never checked his whereabouts. I never snooped through his phone. Like an idiot, I had happily lived inside the modest, romantic fairy tale he spun for me. "Babe? What are you daydreaming about? Let’s roll." Ethan had his shoes on. He reached for my hand, his palm warm and dry. I snapped back to reality, swallowed the cold venom in my throat, and slipped my hand out of his grip. "Let's go. Right now." Ignoring his awkward blink, I pushed the door open and walked straight out. Down in the garage, Ethan opened the passenger door of his beat-up VW Jetta, carefully placing his hand over the doorframe so I wouldn't bump my head. I slid into the seat. But the moment my back hit the cushion, I froze. The seat was wrong. The backrest was reclined way farther than where I usually kept it, and the seat was pushed forward by several inches. I always pushed it all the way back because I had long legs and needed space. This seat had clearly been adjusted for someone much shorter. And when I touched the adjustment lever, a faint trace of perfume lingered in the air. Floral. Sweet. Nothing like what I wore. "Why is the seat adjusted like this?" I turned to look at the man walking around the hood to the driver's side, my tone completely flat. Ethan’s hand paused on the door handle. He masked it instantly, slid into the driver's seat, buckled his seatbelt, and gave an easy chuckle. "Oh, remember when Mom came into town a couple of days ago? When I drove her home, she complained about feeling squished and moved it around." "I totally forgot to put it back. Is it uncomfortable, babe?" He leaned over, reaching out to fix the seat for me. I leaned back, dodging his fingers. "Your mom?" I let out a cold laugh, my gaze cutting across his face like a razor. "Ethan, your mom has a golden rule about riding in your car. She refuses to sit shotgun because she says that seat belongs strictly to your wife. She only ever sits in the back." "In five years, has she ever sat in the front seat even once?"Ethan’s hand froze mid-air, the smile on his face cracking. His recovery was fast, though. He pulled his hand back with an awkward laugh and put the car into drive. "Well... you know how she is, just acting on a whim. That day she complained the backseat gave her motion sickness, and I couldn't argue with her." It was a pathetic, sloppy lie that couldn't withstand even the slightest poke. Normally, I might have given him the benefit of the doubt. Now, all I felt was disgust. Ethan steered the car out onto the road, pretending to sound casual as he spoke. "Hey, babe... by the way, the car loan payment is due this week. Cash is a little tight on my end right now, so..." He paused, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "Could you cover it for me this once? I’ll pay you back the second my year-end bonus comes in." The same old script. We bought this car two years ago. He claimed it was to make commuting easier for me. I paid the entire down payment, and he promised he would cover the monthly notes. And the reality? Out of ten payments, I ended up paying nine. Every single due date, he'd cry broke—saying business at his shop was slow, or that some distant relative needed urgent help. I felt bad for him, so time and time again, I whipped out my card. I stared at his profile, my blood running cold. Where did all his money actually go? I used to believe everyone was entitled to privacy as long as there was love. Now I knew better. His money went toward buying that other woman a luxury condo, buying her a brand-new car, and preparing for their baby. He wasn't broke. He was only broke when it came to me. "I don't have the money," I said, gazing out the window at the blurred city lights. Ethan visibly twitched, clearly not expecting such a blunt rejection. I had never told him no before. "Babe, you're kidding, right? We just got married today. What’s mine is yours, what’s yours is mine." A sharp edge of irritation leaked into his voice. "I really don't have it," I turned my head, locking eyes with him, repeating every word with deadpan precision. "I just pitched in for a bunch of expensive wedding gifts for friends, and my paycheck hasn't hit yet. I'm tapped out." Ethan opened his mouth to snap something, but choked it back down. The air inside the car instantly turned to ice. A few agonizing seconds passed before he forced another dry, strained laugh. "Alright, that’s fine. We’ll just tighten our belts a bit. I’ll figure something out—maybe borrow a little from a buddy." He even reached over to pat my knee, putting on a show of comfort. Right then, his phone buzzed. A notification flashed across the screen. From the corner of my eye, I caught the profile picture. It was the same woman who had just texted me those photos. Ethan felt the vibration too. His whole body went rigid. His knuckles on the steering wheel turned stark white from gripping too hard. He didn't dare glance at the phone. He didn't dare look at me. He just stared straight ahead, pretending to concentrate on driving. "Buzz." A second text. Then a third. Like an ominous countdown. "Busy at work?" I asked casually, dripping with quiet mockery. Ethan flinched and forced another jittery laugh. "No, just... annoying shop stuff. Clients being demanding as usual." "If it’s a client, you should check it. Wouldn't want you missing out on business."The corners of my mouth curled into a cold smirk. Ethan shook his head frantically, tiny beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Forget them! Today is our celebration. Work can wait. I’m not letting some petty bullshit ruin our mood." He sounded so noble, like he was sacrificing a major deal just to prioritize our romance. Meanwhile, the phone kept buzzing. I genuinely couldn't wrap my head around it. How did I end up in the middle of a cliché infidelity drama? Ethan wasn't rich, but he was handsome enough, and for five years, I had treated him like royalty. I gave him my heart and soul. I even argued with my own family just to help him pool money together. How could he soak up all my love, turn around, and play the generous, wealthy sugar daddy for another woman? I let out a soft sigh, leaned back against the headrest, and said in a tired voice, "Ethan, something weird happened today." Already on edge, his ears pricked up immediately. "What's wrong, babe? What happened?" I tilted my head, looking directly into his eyes. "A friend told me she saw you at the mall the other day. Said there was a girl with you, and you two looked pretty cozy." Ethan’s face went paper-white in an instant. He whipped his head toward me, raw terror in his eyes, nearly swerving the car off the lane. "That’s impossible!" His voice jumped an entire octave, trembling with desperate guilt. "Babe, don't listen to those gossiping idiots! What girl?! I’ve been running myself into the ground at the shop all week, where the hell would I find time to hang out at a mall?!" His face turned beet red, veins popping on his neck as he took a hand off the wheel to grab mine. "You have to trust me, Nora! You know what I've been like for the past five years! Aside from you, I've never even looked at another woman!" He sounded so heartbroken, so sincere. If I hadn't already seen the hard evidence, I might have fallen for his Oscar-worthy performance all over again. "Is that so?" I pulled my hand back, letting my eyes settle on his continuously buzzing phone on the center console. "Well, since it’s nothing, your phone won't stop blowing up. Let me check it for you so you don't have to keep worrying." I reached out to grab it. "Don't touch it!" Ethan suddenly bellowed. He lunged forward, snatching the phone into his fist and clutching it against his chest like his life depended on it. The reaction was violently disproportionate. Silence swallowed the car whole again. He breathed heavily, his panicked eyes darting toward me. He seemed to realize he had lost his cool. Swallowing hard, he forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Babe... seriously, it’s nothing. Just annoying spam calls and promo ads. I’m driving, and I just didn't want you getting annoyed by garbage notifications." "Come on, I told you not to worry about work. Why won't you trust me?" He was still digging in his heels. Looking at his pathetic, cornered expression, the very last shred of warmth in my heart evaporated into nothing. "Ethan, do you have a guilty conscience?"I asked, my voice chillingly calm. "No! Absolutely not!" He denied it vehemently, a flash of defensive anger sparking in his eyes. "You know what kind of man I am! How could you even think that of me?!" I locked eyes with him, tracking every twitch on his face. His gaze flickered, darting everywhere except toward me. "Look, you can go through my phone all you want once we get home tonight!" he pleaded. "Right now, let’s just enjoy our dinner. Don't let stupid rumors ruin our day." I laughed internally. Check it tonight? By the time we got home, every message would be scrubbed, every photo deleted. He was a seasoned pro at this game. "Fine," I said, turning to look back out the window. He let out an audible sigh of relief. The car made a turn and entered the district where Grandview Manor was located. It was an upscale neighborhood filled with fine dining and private lounges. Ethan was clearly familiar with the area. This restaurant was notoriously expensive; he had never brought me here before. He always used to say it was overpriced, impractical, and a waste of money for a couple trying to save for a future. Now it was obvious—he was saving this place exclusively for her. He parked, hopped out, and dutifully opened my door, even taking the time to gently straighten my collar. "Today, let’s splurge a little, babe. You deserve the best." He smiled, taking my hand as we walked toward the restaurant. I gripped his hand back. My fingers were ice cold. Inside, soft piano music drifted through the air, and the ambiance was intimate and luxurious. The hostess greeted us with a smile. "Good evening. Table for two?" "Yes, two—" Ethan began. "Three," I cut him off smoothly. Ethan froze, turning back to look at me. "Babe, we're celebrating our wedding. Why invite someone else? That’s kind of awkward, isn't it?" "Just a friend who happens to be nearby. I figured since we're here, she might as well join us." My voice was steady, leaving no room for debate. "Oh... well, alright then." Though clearly uneasy, he didn't push it. We were seated at a table by the window. Ethan automatically grabbed a napkin, meticulously wiping down the table in front of me. Then he walked over to the hostess stand, fetched a soft lumbar pillow, and placed it behind my back. "These chairs are stiff. Your lower back acts up, so keep this behind you." The server handed us the menus. Ethan reached out to take them, but I snatched both right out of his reach. "I’m ordering tonight." Without giving him a chance to object, I flipped the menu open. Whenever we went out to eat in the past, we always ordered what he liked. Tonight, I was done compromising. "Spicy chili crab, fiery poached fish, and a double order of spicy crawfish." I reeled off three heavily spiced dishes in one breath—everything I loved, and everything he used to forbid me from ordering because it was 'too pricey' or 'too spicy.' Ethan’s face went through several shades of pale. "Babe... isn't that a little too spicy?" he whispered, trying to intercede. "I'm celebrating today. This is what I want." I snapped the menu shut and handed it back to the server. "That'll be all." Ethan rubbed his hands together awkwardly, forcing a grin. "Sure, sure. Whatever makes my wife happy." The food arrived quickly—a sea of fiery red, steaming and aromatic. "The food's all here. Is your friend running late?" Ethan wiped his hands and checked his watch nervously. "She's here." I looked toward the front entrance. Ethan followed my gaze. In an instant, his entire body seized up like a corpse.