When my husband told me he had a work party to go to, I never suspected anything untoward until I received a call that made me stop in my tracks! What I heard on the other line had me grabbing my car keys to confront him and packing his things the next day!
You’d think after ten years of marriage, I’d know my husband, Brian, inside out. But last week, I learned that even a decade together can’t shield you from betrayal—or the satisfaction of watching karma deliver a perfect punch!
A serious-looking woman | Source: Midjourney
It started innocently enough. On a Thursday evening, Brian walked through the door humming a tune, a rare spring in his step. “Big news!” he announced. “The company’s throwing a work party tomorrow night, a team bonding thing. Strictly employees.”
He kissed my forehead and dropped his briefcase on the floor.
“It’s going to be boring, so don’t worry about coming. Just numbers talk and small talk.”
I raised an eyebrow.
A suspicious woman | Source: Midjourney
Brian wasn’t exactly the party type. His idea of fun was watching golf on TV, but I shrugged it off.
“Fine by me,” I said, my mind already spinning through tomorrow’s tasks.
The next morning, Brian was sweeter than usual. Too sweet, if I’m honest. While I cooked breakfast, he came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and murmured, “You know you’re amazing, right?”
“What’s all this?” I asked with a laugh. “Trying to earn brownie points?”
“Maybe.” He handed me his favorite white shirt, the one with the annoying button that always came loose.
A happy man holding a shirt | Source: Midjourney
“Can you iron this for me? And, oh, while I’m gone, could you make lasagna? The one with the extra cheese? You know how much I love it.”
“Anything else, Your Highness?” I teased.
“Actually, yes.” He winked while looking smug. “Could you clean and tidy up the bathrooms? You know I like the place spotless. And it wouldn’t hurt to get them spick and span just in case… guests, you know?”
I rolled my eyes but laughed along. My husband had his quirks, and for all his little diva requests, I thought he was harmless. If only I’d known…
A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
That day, I threw myself into my chores. The vacuum buzzed, the washing machine churned, and the smell of baking lasagna filled the house. My cleaning playlist kept me company, and for a while, life felt… normal.
I was so deep into my work that I didn’t even notice the day had gone by until my phone rang.
The number was unfamiliar, and for a split second, I toyed with ignoring it, not wanting to be disturbed. But I picked it up anyway. “Hello?”
At first, all I could hear was music, noise, and muffled laughter. I frowned, thinking it might be a prank. But then I heard Brian’s voice. Clear as day…
A woman frowning while on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“My wife?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “She’s probably cooking and scrubbing toilets or something. She’s so predictable! Meanwhile, I’m here with you, my love.”
I then heard a woman giggling, and my stomach sank.
I froze, the phone pressed to my ear as my world tilted on its axis. Then, the line went dead. A second later, a text came through with a single address. No words, just a location. The address wasn’t familiar, but something deep inside me knew. This wasn’t a work party. This wasn’t harmless.
An upset woman staring at her phone | Source: Midjourney
My pulse pounded as I stared at the screen. I had a moment of questioning things like was this real? Could Brian, my Brian, really be this cruel?
I didn’t cry. Not yet. Instead, I threw on a coat, furiously grabbed my keys, and drove straight to the address without thinking twice. The lasagna, which I switched off, could wait. If Brian thought I’d stay home like a clueless fool, he had another thing coming!
I knew that this could all be a prank or something else innocent, but I couldn’t risk not knowing if my husband was really cheating on me. So I had to go see for myself. The GPS led me to a sleek Airbnb on the other side of town.
An angry woman driving | Source: Midjourney
The place screamed “luxury,” with its grand entrance, sparkling windows, and pristine landscaping. A collection of fancy cars was parked in the driveway, and inside, I could see a crowd of people laughing and drinking.
My stomach churned as I scanned the faces. Either Brian was about to get the surprise of his life, or maybe I was. We’d see in a minute. As I walked to the door, a doorman blocked my path, asking, “Can I help you, ma’am?”
A suspicious doorman | Source: Midjourney
Fake smiling, I replied, “Hi, yes, I just came to drop something off for my husband quickly,” I said, gesturing to the toilet brush and cleaner in the bucket I held. Confused, the doorman stared at me and then my bucket.
“Look, he’s the tall guy in the white T-shirt,” I explained.
The doorman didn’t seem convinced but figured I wasn’t harmful, so he stepped aside to let me in. Everyone turned around and stared at me, looking all disheveled from cleaning and cooking, with a bucket in hand.
And then I saw him…
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
My husband stood in the middle of the room, his arm casually draped around a young woman in a tight red dress. He looked more alive than I’d seen him in years, laughing and sipping champagne like he didn’t have a care in the world!
Every part of me wanted to rush over to him and let loose, but another part whispered, “Be smart. Don’t just react. Make it count.” Brian spotted me almost instantly. His face drained of color, and he took a step back, nearly spilling his drink!
A shocked man embracing a woman | Source: Midjourney
“Emily?” he stammered, pulling away from the woman at his side. “What… what are you doing here?”
“Hi, sweetheart,” I said, my voice loud enough for the room to hear. “You left something at home.”
Brian blinked, confused. I reached into the bucket and pulled out rubber gloves, a toilet brush, and a bottle of toilet cleaner I’d brought with me.
“Since you like talking about my cleaning skills, I figured you might need these to clean up this mess you’ve made of our marriage.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The woman in red took a step away from Brian, looking mortified. But I wasn’t done.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“You know,” I said, turning to the room, “Brian loves to play the doting husband at home. But as you can see, he’s more interested in playing house with whoever strokes his ego.”
“Emily,” Brian said, his voice low and desperate. “Can we go outside and talk?”
“Oh no,” I said sharply. “You didn’t care about privacy when you were mocking me behind my back. Why start now?”
An angry woman | Source: Midjourney
I turned to the crowd, addressing them like an audience at a theater.
“Enjoy the party, everyone. Just remember: if he cheats with you, he’ll cheat on you!”
And with that, I dropped the bucket near his feet and walked out, my heels clicking against the marble floor. But as I reached my car, my phone buzzed again. The same unknown number.
A woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
“You deserve to know the truth,” the message read. “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”
My hands trembled as I called the number. I realized I never bothered to find out who had given me the tip and why. Was it a woman Brian cheated with who now felt spiteful? Or perhaps someone who wanted him for themselves?
Heck! For all I knew, it could’ve been the woman Brian was with, trying to put a spanner in the works so she could get him for herself.
The phone didn’t ring long before a woman answered. “Hello?”
A woman on a call | Source: Midjourney
“Who is this?” I demanded.
“My name’s Valerie,” she said after a pause. “I… used to work with Brian.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because someone had to,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “I’ve been watching him lie and cheat for months. Bragging about you, laughing about how ‘easy’ it is to fool you. It made me sick.”
I swallowed hard. “How did you even get my number?”
A woman on a call | Source: Midjourney
“I left the company a month ago for greener pastures after working to secure the venue for the office party,” she admitted. “But before I quit, I saw what kind of man he is. I found your number in the emergency contact database. I know it was wrong, but you needed to know. My husband, Ted, was the same way. I left him two years ago and vowed never to stand by and see the same thing happen to another woman.”
Her words hit me like a freight train.
A shocked woman on a call | Source: Midjourney
“I got another female colleague to attend the party and shadow Brian, at the opportune moment, she called you and let you hear him berate you before giving me back my phone. I’ve been hiding outside the venue in my car, waiting for you to arrive and confront him once and for all. You deserved the truth, Emily.”
I should’ve been angry—should’ve felt violated—but all I felt was gratitude.
“Thank you,” I whispered before hanging up. I was ready to go home and lick my wounds and felt it pointless to meet Valerie. She’d played her part, and now it was time for me to play mine.
An angry woman in her car | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I woke up with a clarity I hadn’t felt in years! Brian’s belongings were packed and waiting outside the door. When he came home last night, his key wouldn’t fit the lock because I put a keyhole cover we had in the house.
I don’t know and don’t care where he slept last night. His phone buzzed with a single text from me that morning: “Enjoy.”
A shocked man after looking at his phone | Source: Midjourney
And for the first time in a long time, I smiled. Not because of revenge, but because I finally took back control of my life. Divorce was the next thing on my to-do list that day, and I couldn’t wait to take him for all he’s worth!
A happy woman sitting at home | Source: Midjourney
If that story was up your alley, then you might like the next one about a wife who suspected her husband of cheating when he suddenly insisted on sleeping in the car. One night, she followed him and discovered something more disturbing than just cheating…
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.
Man Rented His Apartment to a Sweet Old Couple – When They Moved Out, He Was Shocked By What He Found Inside
Man Rented His Apartment to a Sweet Old Couple – When They Moved Out, He Was Shocked By What He Found Inside
When I first rented my apartment to Hans and Greta, a sweet old couple with warm smiles and charming accents, I thought I’d found the perfect tenants. But when they moved out, I was plunged into a mystery that would shatter my trust and lead to an unbelievable twist.
Hans and Greta seemed like the sweetest couple I had ever encountered. Late seventies, gentle manners, and warm smiles that could melt the coldest heart.
Hans had a neat silver mustache that twitched when he laughed, and Greta had this kind, motherly demeanor. They spoke with curious accents that I couldn’t quite place, a mix of something European and quaint.
A happy elderly couple in the kitchen | Source: Pexels
“I hope this apartment will be just right for you,” I said as I showed them around.
“It’s perfect,” Greta replied with a smile. “Just like home.”
They moved in smoothly, and for the entire year they stayed, there were no issues at all. They paid their rent on time, kept the place immaculate, and even left little thank-you notes when I came to check on the property.
A handsome apartment with wood floors | Source: Pexels
They’d often invite me in for tea, regaling me with stories of their adventures back in the days when they were young. It was hard to imagine a more ideal scenario.
“Thank you so much for letting us stay here, Mark,” Hans said one afternoon. “You’ve been a wonderful landlord.”
“You two have been the best tenants. If only everyone was like you,” I replied, sipping the tea Greta had made. It was chamomile, fragrant and soothing.
An elderly couple enjoying warm drinks | Source: Pexels
“Do you remember the time we got lost in the Black Forest?” Greta asked Hans, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Oh yes, that was quite the adventure!” Hans laughed. “We were young and foolish, thought we could navigate without a map.”
“Ended up spending the night in a shepherd’s hut,” Greta added, shaking her head.
However, as their lease neared its end, something strange happened. Hans and Greta, usually so calm and measured, seemed to be in a rush to move out.
Household contents being packed into boxes | Source: Pexels
They were always in a hurry, packing boxes and arranging things in a frenzy. When I asked if everything was okay, they assured me with those same warm smiles that everything was fine.
“Just some family matters,” Greta explained. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Are you sure? You both seem quite frantic,” I pressed, concerned.
Packed items being carried down stairs | Source: Pexels
“It’s all good, Mark. Just some urgent family issues. We’ll miss this place, though,” Hans said, patting my shoulder reassuringly.
The day they moved out, they handed me the keys with an extra firm handshake and an apology for their sudden departure. I wished them well, feeling a bit sad to see them go.
“Thank you for everything, Mark. We hope to see you again someday,” Greta said, giving me a gentle hug.
“Take care, both of you,” I replied, waving as they left.
A hand bearing a bunch of keys | Source: Pexels
The next day, I went to inspect the apartment, expecting to find it in the same pristine condition they had kept it. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, but what I saw made me gasp in shock.
There was no floor. The hardwood planks that had been there were completely gone, leaving only the bare concrete underneath. I stood there, stunned, trying to process what had happened.
“Where the hell is the floor?” I muttered to myself, pacing around the empty rooms.
A room with its floored stripped out | Source: Pexels
I took out my phone, snapped a photo of the empty floor, and sent them a text.
“What happened to the floor?” I asked, attaching the photo.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with a reply. It was from Hans.
A man studying his cell phone | Source: Pexels
“Oh dear, we are so sorry for the confusion! In the Netherlands, it is a tradition to take the floor with you when you move out. We assumed it was the same here. We were in such a rush because our granddaughter had just given birth and needed our help with the baby, and we didn’t have time to explain. We hope this hasn’t caused too much trouble. Please let us make it up to you. Come visit us in the Netherlands, and we will show you our beautiful country. With love, Hans and Greta.”
A man looking out the window, phone in hand | Source: Pexels
I read the message a couple of times, my disbelief slowly turning into a surprised grin. It was such a peculiar tradition, but it did make sense of everything. They hadn’t intended any harm; they were just adhering to a custom from their country.
The urgency in their departure was as sincere and heartfelt as they had always seemed, or so I thought.
I chuckled and replied, “I appreciate the explanation. I’ll need to replace the floor here, but no hard feelings. Maybe I will take you up on that offer to visit. Best wishes to you and your family.”
But something nagged at me. A tradition to take the floor, really? I decided to investigate further. I contacted a friend who was a private investigator and told him the whole story. He agreed to look into it.
A man inspecting documents with a magnifying glass | Source: Pexels
A week later, he called me with some shocking news.
“Mark, you won’t believe this,” he said. “Hans and Greta aren’t who they claimed to be. They’re part of a sophisticated scam targeting landlords, stealing valuable items and leaving with the impression of an innocent mistake. Those floorboards? They’re worth a small fortune.”
“What?” I retorted. “How could they do this? I checked their credentials thoroughly, everything was above board. They had valid residential visas, good credit histories, and no criminal records.”
A man listening on headphones | Source: Pexels
“They’re professionals,” my friend continued. “They move from city to city, targeting kind-hearted landlords like you. Their M.O. involves taking high-value items that can be easily sold.”
I was stunned. “I can’t believe it. They seemed so genuine, so… kind.”
“That’s how they get you,” he said. “They build trust and then take advantage of it.”
An outdoor antique market | Source: Freepik
“We’ve tracked them down,” my friend continued. “They’re planning to sell the stolen floorboards at a high-end antique market. We can set up a sting operation to catch them in the act.”
“Let’s do it,” I said, determined to see justice served.
The plan was simple. We’d catch them in the act of selling the stolen wood. My friend, posing as a buyer, approached Hans and Greta, who were busy setting up their stall with various antique items, including my floorboards.
Two men shake hands in introduction | Source: Pexels
“Excuse me,” my friend said. “I’m interested in those floorboards. They look exquisite.”
Hans smiled. “Ah, yes. Fine Dutch craftsmanship. We know because we are from the Netherlands ourselves. This is very rare, very valuable timber.”
“How much are you asking?” my friend inquired.
“For you, a special price,” Hans replied, naming a figure that made my P.I. friend’s eyes widen in surprise.
Police officers making an arrest | Source: Pexels
As the transaction was about to go through, police officers moved in, as coordinated, surrounding the stall.
“Hands up! You’re under arrest for theft and fraud,” one officer barked.
Hans and Greta looked shocked but didn’t resist as they were handcuffed and led away. I watched from a distance, feeling satisfied, but also sorrowful. How could I have misjudged the character of these people so spectacularly?
The floorboards were recovered, and they turned out to be imported wood worth a fortune. In the weeks that followed, I had the floor replaced, and life returned to normal. But I often thought about Hans and Greta, the weird, invented tradition they had conned me with, and also their seemingly unwavering kindness.
Strips of wood in a pile | Source: Pexels
A month later, I received a letter. It was from the real Hans and Greta in the Netherlands. They had had their identities stolen by the criminal gang, who had hired imposters to pose as them. They had been contacted by Interpol and made aware of the crime.
They invited me to visit the Netherlands and experience their genuine hospitality. “Dear Mark, we are so sorry for what happened. We hope you can find it in your heart to visit us and see the real Netherlands and meet its true people. With love, Hans and Greta.”
I sat back, letter in hand, contemplating the experience. Trust is a fragile thing, I thought, but also incredibly powerful when placed in the right people. Maybe one day, I would visit the real Hans and Greta and rebuild my faith in trust and humanity.
A man reading a letter | Source: Pexels
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