Isabel arrived home earlier than planned, her arms full of shopping bags and beautifully wrapped gifts. She had been excited to surprise her husband, Paul, for his birthday. But the moment she stepped into the house, something felt wrong.
A faint murmur of voices drifted from upstairs, followed by soft laughter. Isabel’s brows furrowed. She placed the bags down quietly and took a step forward. Then, she saw it—clothes scattered on the staircase. A woman’s clothes.
Her pulse quickened as she climbed the stairs. Each step felt heavier, like she was walking toward something she wasn’t ready to see. The bedroom door was slightly open. Isabel peered inside, and her entire world shattered.
Paul was in bed, his arms wrapped around another woman.
“Would you like to do it again?” Paul asked, his voice smooth, unaware of Isabel’s presence.
Isabel gasped and dropped her bags, causing a loud thud. Paul turned his head slowly, completely unfazed. If anything, he looked mildly inconvenienced.
“Oh, hey,” he said casually. “Jane, this is my wife, Isabel.”
The woman—Jane—smirked. “Hi.” There was no shame in her voice, no regret.
Isabel’s face burned with anger and disbelief. “This is insane! How could you—”
Paul cut her off. “Relax. Why are you back so early?”
Isabel’s hands clenched into fists. “That’s my robe she’s wearing, Paul! And she’s in our bed! And you care about why I’m early?”
Paul sighed, shaking his head as if she was overreacting. “You said you’d be back by seven. It’s not even 5:30. Pick up your stuff and get lost for a couple of hours.”
Jane rolled onto her side, resting her head on her hand. “Yes, honey. You have ten seconds to disappear.”
Isabel felt like she had been punched in the gut. She wanted to scream, to throw things, to make them feel even a fraction of the betrayal burning inside her. But instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and walked away.
She would leave. She would never see this man again.
Isabel rushed downstairs to the guestroom, grabbing a suitcase and throwing in whatever clothes she could find. She was done. Paul could have his mistress. But as she zipped up her bag, a voice from the doorway made her freeze.
“Why are you packing?” Paul’s voice was sharp, annoyed.
Isabel turned to face him, her chest heaving. “I’m leaving you. The kids will stay with me.”
Paul chuckled darkly, stepping forward. “Leaving me? And where exactly are you going?”
Isabel hesitated. He knew she had no one. No family, no close friends. He had isolated her from everything.
“And Julia and John?” Paul leaned against the doorframe. “What will happen to them when I block your cards?”
Her stomach dropped. “You have your mistress! What could you possibly want from my children and me?”
Paul’s eyes darkened. “They’re my children, too. And don’t forget, honey, without me, you’re nothing.”
Tears welled up in Isabel’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I’m leaving, Paul, and that’s final.”
Paul’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “If you want to leave, be my guest. But you’ll never see your children again.”
Isabel’s breath hitched. She knew Paul. He never made empty threats. He had the power to take everything from her—including her kids.
That night, she lay awake, realizing she was trapped. But she wasn’t weak. She would find a way to fight back.
The next morning, Isabel sent Julia and John to summer camp. She knew Paul wouldn’t come home before noon—he had left with Jane the previous night. When he did return, he acted as if nothing had happened.
“Hello to the wife,” Paul chirped. “Sweetheart, how are you?”
“Hi, Isabel,” Jane added smugly.
Paul guided Jane to the dining table. “Set the table for three, please.”
Isabel remained silent. She refused to give him the reaction he wanted.
As they ate, Paul talked about business, flaunting his wealth. Then he dropped a bombshell.
“We should make this a regular thing. Jane should move in.”
Isabel’s fork clattered onto her plate. “What?”
Paul smirked. “Is there a problem?”
“I love it! Will you help me move my stuff, darling?” Jane cooed.
“Of course,” Paul said, kissing her cheek.
Isabel’s hands trembled with rage. This had to stop. She needed help.
That evening, she called a lawyer, Charles, but he refused her case. “Your husband is too powerful, Mrs. Yeats. I can’t take this risk.”
“Please, I’m begging you.”
Charles sighed. “Find something against him. Evidence. Then call me.”
Evidence. But how?
Later that night, Isabel made a decision. She would use Jane’s greed against her.
“Coffee?” Isabel asked Jane the next morning.
“Sure,” Jane said, slipping on Isabel’s cape. “It’s going to rain.”
Isabel handed her a cup. “I know why you’re with Paul. For his money, right?”
Jane scoffed. “Paul loves me.” But her voice wavered.
“Paul loves himself,” Isabel said. “Help me, and I’ll make you rich. Once he leaves me, we’ll split everything I get. 50/50.”
Jane hesitated. “70/30.”
“Deal.”
Isabel thought she had won. But two days later, as she spoke to Jane about evidence, Paul’s voice cut through the room like ice.
“Get WHAT?”
Isabel’s blood ran cold.
Jane smirked. “You thought I’d help you? Paul’s money is worth more than anything you could offer.”
Paul stepped closer, his voice dangerously low. “I won’t hit you. But I will make your life unbearable.”
“Paul, please,” Isabel whispered. “Don’t take my children.”
Paul grinned. “Thank you for the idea. Until I decide what to do with you, you’re not allowed outside.”
Isabel was trapped.
Days passed, and Isabel waited for her moment. Then, Paul left on a trip. It was now or never.
Dressed as a maid, she sneaked into Paul’s office and took photos of every illegal document she could find. But as she turned to leave, her phone rang.
Paul.
She looked up at the security cameras.
He knew she was there.
Minutes later, Paul stormed in. “Take her,” he ordered his men. “She’s crazy.”
Tears streamed down Isabel’s face. This was the end—
“Mr. Yeats, you’re under arrest.”
Isabel gasped as police flooded the building. Standing beside them was Charles.
“You helped me,” she whispered.
“I had to do the right thing,” Charles said simply.
As Paul was taken away, Jane looked panicked. “I should have taken your offer.”
Isabel smirked. “I wouldn’t have given it to you.”
For the first time in years, Isabel felt free. And this time, she would never let anyone take that from her again.
