
Alice’s son had always been a happy child, but lately, he would shrink away whenever her new husband, Sam, walked into the room. At first, she brushed it off as fussiness. But then, her son told her something about Sam that sent a shiver down her spine.
Being a single mother was never part of the plan.
When I married my first husband, Daniel, I had dreams of building a life together and raising our child in a home full of love.
But fate had other ideas.

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney
Jeremy was barely a few weeks old when I woke up one morning to find Daniel gone.
At first, I thought he had gone for a walk or stepped out for coffee. But then I noticed his closet was empty and his suitcase was missing.
His toothbrush was also gone.
I panicked and immediately called his phone, but it went straight to voicemail.
Then, I called his best friend, Chris.

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels
“Hey, Chris, have you heard from Daniel? He’s not home.”
Silence. Then a sigh.
“Alice, I… I think you should sit down before I tell you what’s going on.”
That’s when I learned the truth.
Daniel hadn’t just left me. He had run away to another country with another woman.
A woman he had been seeing behind my back for months.
I spent weeks in a daze after learning where my husband was. I was unable to eat, sleep, or function properly.
And the worst part was that I blamed myself for everything. Was I not enough? Did I do something wrong? Why did he leave us like this?

A woman looking outside her bedroom window | Source: Midjourney
But when I finally gathered the courage to face the truth, I realized it had nothing to do with me. He was the one who was selfish. The one who betrayed our family.
And I refused to let his betrayal define me.
Soon, I threw myself into work, determined to give Jeremy the best life possible. My mother looked after Jeremy while I juggled my job.
Slowly, the pain faded, and I started finding happiness in small moments. I found myself laughing at Jeremy’s giggles and adoring the way he called me “Mommy.”
With time, I realized we were doing just fine.
Then I met Sam.

A man standing outdoors | Source: Midjourney
It was a hectic afternoon at my favorite coffee shop. Jeremy was at daycare, and I had just wrapped up a long morning at work.
I reached into my purse to pay, only to realize my card wasn’t working.
“Oh, come on,” I muttered, trying again.
Still nothing.
The cashier gave me a polite but tired look, and I felt the heat of embarrassment creep up my neck. Just as I was about to put my coffee back, a deep voice spoke up behind me.
“Let me get that for you.”

A woman holding a cup of coffee | Source: Pexels
I turned to see a tall man with warm brown eyes. He pulled out his card and tapped it against the reader.
“Oh no, you don’t have to—”
“Really, it’s fine,” he said with a charming smile. “It’s just coffee.”
I hesitated before sighing. “Alright. But give me your number so I can pay you back.”
He chuckled. “Deal.”
That was how it started. A simple act of kindness. A number exchanged. A text here and there.

A man using his phone | Source: Pexels
Over time, I learned Sam was an insurance broker. He was two years older than me and didn’t mind the fact that I came with a little boy.
I still remember the day I told him about Jeremy.
“Alice, that’s wonderful!” he cheered. “I love kids.”
For the first time in years, I felt hope bloom inside me. Maybe love wasn’t off the table after all.
We dated for a year before getting married, and Sam was everything I could have wished for. He was attentive and patient and never made me feel like I was “too much.”

A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels
The best part was that Jeremy bonded with him instantly, giggling at his silly jokes and reaching for his hand whenever we walked together.
That’s when I let my guard down for the first time in a LONG time. That’s when I believed we were finally a family.
But then… my life took an unexpected turn. Never in a million years had I thought I’d experience something like this.

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
It all started the day my mother pulled me aside. She had this look of concern on her face.
“Alice,” she began in a hushed tone. “Don’t you see that he’s always whining around Sam?”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Just watch him. Every time Sam’s around, Jeremy looks different.”
At first, I brushed it off as my mother being overly protective. She had always been wary of men after what Daniel did to me.
But later that evening, I started paying attention.

A boy sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Jeremy was his usual cheerful self when it was just the two of us. He laughed, played, and chatted endlessly about his day at daycare. But the moment Sam walked into the room, something changed.
His shoulders stiffened, his voice quieted, and sometimes he would start crying for no apparent reason.
It made me realize I needed to talk to Sam about it.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I said later that night.
He glanced up from his phone. “Of course.”
“Have you noticed how Jeremy acts around you?”
“What do you mean?”

A man sitting in his bedroom | Source: Midjourney
I hesitated. “He… he gets quiet. Sometimes he even cries.”
“Alice, I love that kid,” he said. “I treat him like my own. Why would he—-“
“I know,” I interrupted, unsure if I had offended him. “It’s just… I don’t know.”
He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Maybe he’s adjusting. It’s a big change for him, right? A new father figure. It’s a lot for a five-year-old.”
I nodded, wanting to believe him. He sounded so sincere. But deep down, something didn’t sit right.

A woman looking away while talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney
A few days later, I picked up Jeremy from daycare, and on our way home, we stopped for ice cream. He sat on the bench beside me as he licked his cone.
“Hey, buddy,” I said gently. “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded while enjoying his ice cream.
“Why do you get upset around Sam?”
His smile faded, and he turned the other way.

A boy sitting on a bench | Source: Midjourney
“You can tell me anything, sweetheart,” I said, turning him back towards me. “I won’t be mad.”
“I heard Daddy talking on the phone…” He looked at me. “And he said I’m a problem.”
I couldn’t process that.
“Are you sure, sweetheart?”
Jeremy shook his head.
“Yes. He said, ‘Little Jeremy is a problem.’ I didn’t hear the rest because I ran to my room.” He hesitated before asking in a small voice, “Mommy, will he leave like my first daddy?”
Tears welled in his big, brown eyes. I couldn’t bear that.

A woman talking to her son | Source: Midjourney
I pulled him into my arms, brushing his hair back. “Oh, sweetheart, no. I will never let anyone leave you, okay?”
That night, I confronted Sam.
As soon as Jeremy was asleep, I stood in front of him. “Did you call Jeremy a problem?”
Sam looked up from the couch. “What?”
“Jeremy heard you on the phone. He said you called him a problem.”
For a split second, something flickered in his expression. Something dark.

A close-up shot of a man’s face | Source: Midjourney
But then, his face quickly smoothed over.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alice, come on. He must’ve misunderstood. I was talking about a guy at work. His name is Jeremy. You know, we’ve been dealing with a mess of paperwork, and I probably said something in frustration.”
I studied his face, searching for any sign of a lie. “So, you weren’t talking about my son?”
“Of course not. I’d never say something like that about him. I love that kid.”
I let out a shaky breath, nodding. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe Jeremy really had misheard.

A close-up shot of a woman’s eyes | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll talk to him in the morning,” Sam promised. “I’ll clear everything up.”
And he did.
The next morning, he sat Jeremy down and reassured him that it was all a misunderstanding. My little boy nodded as Sam explained everything. I was relieved to see Jeremy smile.
But when I told my mother about it, she frowned. “Have you ever been to his office? Do you know anyone he works with?”
“I know where he works,” I told her. “I have the address.”
“That’s not what I asked,” she said. “Do you know anyone he actually works with? Have you met any of his coworkers?”

People working in an office | Source: Pexels
I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came. The truth was, I hadn’t. I had never been to his office or met any of his colleagues.
“Alice, something isn’t right,” Mom said. “You need to check.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “Mom, you’re being paranoid.”
“Am I?” she shot back. “Or are you ignoring the signs?”
The next morning, as I packed Jeremy’s lunch, my phone rang. It was my mother. Her voice was urgent.

An older woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
“Alice, I checked,” she said. “That address he gave you? There’s no record of him working there. No one’s ever heard of him.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
“How do you know that?” I asked in a trembling voice.
“Remember Mrs. Parker? She works there,” my mom replied. “She confirmed, Alice. Sam doesn’t work there.”
At that point, I was sure Sam was hiding something from me. And I had to find out what that was.
That evening, I told Sam I had to visit my mother because she wasn’t feeling well. I told him I’d stay there for a few days with Jeremy.
As expected, he didn’t mind. He told me we could stay there as long as my mom needed.

A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney
Once we were at my mother’s house, I locked the door behind me and sank onto the couch. I needed to know the truth.
Hiring a private investigator wasn’t something I had ever imagined doing, but desperation pushed me into action.
I needed facts. I needed real, undeniable proof of who Sam was.
Three days later, I got my answer.
“It’s worse than you think,” the investigator said as he handed me a folder.
My hands trembled as I opened it. Inside were phone records, financial statements, and a detailed report of Sam’s past.
His entire life was a lie.

A woman holding documents | Source: Pexels
The office address he had given me? It was fake. There was no insurance company and no coworker named Jeremy.
The investigator had tapped Sam’s phone and uncovered everything. It turned out Sam had been talking to his mother that night, not a colleague.
The investigator told me they were scammers and this was their game.
“He’s been planning to frame you at work,” the investigator continued. “Your job gives you access to financial accounts, right? He’s been setting things up so that if something goes wrong, you’ll take the fall. Once you’re arrested, he gets access to your assets including your savings and your home.”

A man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
I gripped the folder as I started to realize how Jeremy was a problem for Sam and his mother. If I went to jail, Sam would either have to take care of him or put him in state custody.
He hadn’t just been scamming me. He had been planning to erase me from the equation entirely.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “What do I do now?”
“Go to the police, Alice,” the investigator said firmly. “As soon as possible.”
I didn’t hesitate.

A police car standing outside a building | Source: Pexels
With the investigator’s findings, I went straight to the authorities. The evidence was overwhelming.
I found out that Sam and his mother had a long history of conning women. They had been moving from state to state under different identities.
But this time, he had gone further by marrying me. And I guess that was because I had something valuable.
Once I told the cops everything I knew about Sam, they reassured me they wouldn’t let him get away with this. All they needed was a few days to ensure they had enough to arrest him.
I wasn’t there when they took him away, but I heard he didn’t go quietly. He screamed, denied everything, and claimed it was all a setup.
But the evidence spoke for itself.

A man in handcuffs | Source: Pexels
I will never forget the look on his face as the cops led him away in the courtroom. It was like he was trying to tell me he’d return.
But instead of feeling scared, I straightened my back and smiled while looking into his eyes.
After the trial, I took Jeremy out for ice cream because he was the one who saved me from losing everything. Had he not told me about Sam’s conversation with his mother, I wouldn’t be here writing this story for you all.
I’ll always be grateful to fate for giving me such an intelligent boy like Jeremy.

A little boy | Source: Midjourney
My Best Friend Married My Ex-husband — Then She Called Me in the Middle of the Night, Terrified

When Stacey married Lily’s ex-husband, Alan, it seemed like the ultimate betrayal. But a late-night call filled with terror revealed a dark secret neither woman was prepared for, forcing Lily and Stacey to confront the man who shattered both their lives.
Alan and I had been married for seven years. Seven long years that gave me two beautiful daughters, Mia (5) and Sophie (4), and left me with a heart fractured in ways I didn’t know were possible.

A couple | Source: Unsplash
At first, Alan was my dream man. He had this magnetic charm, the kind that made people lean in just a little closer when he spoke. He knew how to make me feel like I was the only woman in the world. But that glow didn’t last.
By year five, I noticed the cracks. Alan would come home late, his excuses so thin they were practically see-through. Work trips that didn’t make sense. Texts he wouldn’t let me see. Then, one night, I got the confirmation I’d been dreading. A single blonde hair on his suit jacket. Not mine.
My heart screamed with rage. I knew something was wrong. I knew he was destroying everything we built.

A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney
I confronted him. His reaction? A cold denial, followed by an avalanche of gaslighting. “You’re imagining things, Lily. Stop being so insecure,” he yelled once.
But it wasn’t just my imagination. It was real. Silently, I vowed to myself that I would not let him make me doubt my instincts.
The final straw came when I caught him red-handed. The image of him with her — Kara, a woman I didn’t even know — was burned into my memory. He didn’t even apologize. He just packed a bag and left as though nothing had happened.
And just like that, Alan abandoned me and our daughters. For a year and a half, I struggled to rebuild my life. Therapy, late nights working to support the girls, and a constant ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away.
Then came the news that made my stomach churn: Alan had married Stacey, my best friend.

A newlywed couple | Source: Unsplash
I couldn’t believe it at first. Stacey had been my confidante during my marriage, the one person I told everything to. She knew everything about me… about how I felt like I was losing Alan, how I feared he was cheating, and how devastated I was when he finally left.
A painful realization cut through me, “How could she do this to me?”
When Stacey called to tell me she was engaged to Alan, I froze. “You’re kidding, right?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“No,” she said. “Alan loves me, Lily. I hope… I hope we can still be friends.”
Friends? Was she serious?
“You’re marrying the man who broke me, Stacey. And you think I want to stay friends? Good luck with that.” I hung up before she could respond.

Grayscale shot of a woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney
I thought that was the end of it. I wanted it to be the end of it. But then, a year into their marriage, my phone rang at three in the morning, dragging me back into Alan’s world.
Groggy and annoyed, I squinted at my phone. Stacey’s name flashed on the screen. I didn’t want to believe it.
“Of all the nerve, calling me at this hour?” I muttered to myself.
I debated ignoring it. Why would she, of all people, be calling me in the middle of the night? But curiosity won out, and against my better judgment, I answered.

A phone on the bed flashing an incoming call | Source: Midjourney
“Hello?” I said, my voice heavy with irritation.
What I heard next made me sit up straight.
“Lily, I need your help!” Stacey’s voice was frantic and barely coherent. “This concerns you more than you think. Please… don’t hang up. Please.”
My heart raced with anger and anticipation. What could she possibly want?

A woman seeing her phone | Source: Midjourney
“Stacey?” I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess. “What’s going on? Look, I don’t have anything to—”
“Alan… he’s not who I thought he was. He’s worse, Lily. So much worse,” she cut me off.
I felt a shiver run down my spine. What could be worse than what I already know?
“Worse? What are you talking about?” I asked.
She inhaled sharply, trying to steady her voice. “He has a wardrobe in his office. He always told me not to go in there, but yesterday I did. Lily, the inside is covered in photos. Of women. Dozens of women. Me. You. Her. And others I don’t even recognize.”

An anxious woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
A cold realization crept into my thoughts. This is about to get ugly.
I gripped the phone, my stomach turning. “Photos? What kind of photos?”
My mind raced with horrifying possibilities. What could be in those photos? How had I not found them? Was this why he’d prohibited me from entering his office when we were married?
“They all have dates and numbers written on them,” she whispered. “I think… I think he’s been cheating on me. On both of us. On everyone.”

A woman holding a photograph of another lady | Source: Midjourney
My throat felt dry. But I didn’t care. “Stacey, why are you telling me this? You married him. You knew what he was capable of.”
Her voice cracked. “Because I didn’t believe you! I thought you were bitter. But now, I’m scared, Lily. I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out I’ve seen it. Please, can I come over? I don’t feel safe.”
Stacey showed up at my house less than an hour later, her face pale and drawn. She was clutching her phone like a lifeline.
“Start talking,” I said, crossing my arms. My eyes bore into her, demanding the full truth.
She sat on my couch, wringing her hands. “I went back into his office last night. After he left for a two-day fishing trip, I managed to break into the wardrobe. He keeps it locked. But I managed to open it with a screwdriver. It wasn’t just photos, Lily. There were journals. Notes about the women. Ratings. Scores. He’s been doing this for years.”

A frustated woman | Source: Pexels
A twisted sense of validation burned inside me. “I always knew he was worse than he seemed,” I laughed.
“How many women?” My heart raced, dreading the answer.
“At least 40 during your marriage,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “And eight more since we got married. Eight women in just two months.”
The weight of betrayal pressed down on me, threatening to suffocate. It was like a punch to the gut. I thought I had moved on, but the betrayal felt fresh and raw.
“Why are you dragging me into this?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Because he’s the father of your daughters,” Stacey said. “Don’t you want to know who he really is? What he’s capable of? Don’t you want to expose him?”

A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
Her words hit a nerve. As much as I hated Alan, I had to protect my girls. “Fine,” I said, grabbing my laptop. “Show me what you’ve got.”
For the next few hours, Stacey and I worked together, identifying the women in Alan’s photos. Reverse image searches online led us to their social media profiles. When we reached out and met some of them in person the following morning, most confirmed short, meaningless encounters with Alan.
My mind raced with horror and vindication. How could one person be so calculated?
One woman described him as “charming, until he wasn’t.” Another called him “cold and calculating.” Each story added a new layer to the monster I’d once called my husband.
A bitter laugh escaped me. “I should have known. I always knew something was off,” I told Stacey.

Two women sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
By dusk, she looked at me, her face pale. “What do we do now?”
“We’re not victims anymore. We’re survivors,” I declared. “We fight back.”
A dangerous glint entered my eyes, “Alan has no idea what’s coming,” I added.
When he returned from his fishing trip and found Stacey gone, his rage spilled over. He tried to show up at her new place, banging on the door, demanding answers. She called the police, and he left before they arrived.
The weeks that followed were a whirlwind. Stacey filed for divorce, cutting all ties with Alan. I reopened my custody case, armed with evidence of his behavior.
Alan didn’t take it well. He sent me a flurry of messages, first pleading, then threatening. I blocked him.

A woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels
In court, the evidence we presented was damning. Alan’s charm couldn’t save him this time. The photos, the journals, the testimonies… every bit of it painted a clear picture of the man he truly was.
After the dust settled, Stacey and I found ourselves sitting in my living room, a quiet relief hanging between us.
“We made it through!” I said, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders
“Thank you,” Stacey said softly. “For helping me. For believing me.”
My anger softened, replaced by an unexpected understanding. We were both victims of his manipulation. But we were not weak.

A sad woman | Source: Midjourney
I looked at her, the anger I’d carried for so long finally fading. “We both deserved better than him.”
A moment of shared pain and healing passed between us.
She nodded. “So… what now?”
My spirit felt renewed, ready for whatever came next. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Now, we move on. Together.”
A fierce sense of sisterhood emerged, stronger than any betrayal. And for the first time in years, I felt free. Not just from Alan, but from the pain he had caused.

Two women hugging each other | Source: Midjourney
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.
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