I thought everything was fine at home while I was away on a work trip until a message from my 10-year-old son shattered that belief. In just a few words, he revealed how my husband had made him feel like an outsider, and I knew I had to act fast to protect my child.
I was three days into a work trip. Just three days. I should’ve been enjoying my time and focused on my meetings. But instead, I found myself booking the first flight home after hearing that message from Jake.
A woman in a hotel lobby | Source: Midjourney
Everything had seemed fine at first. Our family wasn’t perfect, but we were happy, or so I thought. Jake, my eldest, was from my first marriage. He was ten now, a bright kid with a love for drawing and adventure.
Tommy, who was six, was from my marriage to Mark. The two boys got along like real brothers, always playing and laughing together. I never saw a problem.
Two boys playing together | Source: Midjourney
Each night, I would FaceTime the boys. They’d show me their drawings, tell me about their day, and I’d laugh along with them. Mark, my husband of seven years, was at home taking care of them. I trusted him. He’d always been great with Tommy. And I thought he was good with Jake, too.
Well, one regular evening, Jake sent me an audio message. His sweet voice filled the silence of my hotel room.
A boy talking on his phone in his room | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, Mom. Today was good. Tommy and I played outside. Oh, and Tommy and Dad finished their food first, and then I got to eat what was left. Dad says it’s normal, and I should be okay with it. But, um, I think it was kinda weird. Was it?”
I stopped breathing. Played the message again. Leftovers? My 10-year-old son was eating leftovers? Why? And why would Mark say that was okay?
A shocked woman with her phone in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
I called Jake right away. He answered on the second ring, his voice light, not a care in the world.
“Hey, Mom!”
“Hey, sweetie,” I tried to keep my voice calm. “Can you tell me again about dinner?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “Tommy and Dad ate first. He said it was their special time. Then Dad said I could have the rest. He said I could eat with my real dad if I wanted more time with him. But it’s fine, Mom. It’s no big deal.”
A boy watching his father and brother eat | Source: Midjourney
No big deal? My heart ached. How could Mark say something like that to Jake? How could he make my son feel like he didn’t belong?
“I’ll be home soon, Jake,” I said, trying to keep the anger from my voice. “Okay? I’ll be home.”
Jake was quiet for a moment. “Okay, Mom. See you soon.”
A concerned woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t think twice. As soon as Jake hung up, my mind was made up. My son needed me, and I had to get home. My job, the meetings, the deadlines — they all seemed so insignificant compared to this.
I booked the next available flight without hesitation. My hands were shaking as I packed my bag, thinking about Jake sitting at the table, eating leftovers while Mark and Tommy enjoyed their dinner together. How could Mark do that to him? How could he make Jake feel like he didn’t belong in his own home?
A boy eating leftovers | Source: Midjourney
My mind went back, looking for any signs of previous mistreatment. Had Mark ever hinted that he didn’t see Jake as his own? Had he ever made Jake feel like a stranger in our home?
Mark had always been a great dad to Tommy. I watched him play with Tommy for hours, teaching him how to ride a bike or helping him with homework.
A man playing with his son | Source: Midjourney
When I first met Mark, he embraced my situation. He knew I had Jake from my first marriage, and he stepped into our lives without hesitation. It wasn’t always easy blending a family, but we made it work.
He seemed like the perfect stepfather to Jake, too. Sure, it was different—Jake wasn’t his biological son—but I never thought Mark would treat him any less than a part of our family. Or, at least, until now.
A man teaching his son to ride a bike | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, is it normal that I only got to eat what was left?”
How could he do this?
When I landed the next day, my stomach was in knots. I needed to see Jake, to hold him, to make sure he was okay. But I also needed answers from Mark.
Would he even understand how badly he had hurt my son?
A concerned dark-haired woman in an airport | Source: Midjourney
When I got home, I was determined. I walked in, and there were Jake and Tommy playing on the floor, just like normal. Jake’s face lit up when he saw me.
“Mom! You’re back early!” he said, running over to hug me.
I held him close, my heart breaking a little. “Yeah, sweetie, I missed you too much.”
Mark was in the kitchen, and when he saw me, he looked surprised. “You’re back already?” His tone was casual, like nothing had happened.
A man cooking | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t respond. Not yet. I had a plan.
That evening, I made dinner — Jake’s favorite meal: spaghetti and meatballs. I didn’t ask Mark to help. I didn’t say anything to him at all. I just focused on my boys, making sure Jake and Tommy knew they were loved.
“Dinner’s ready!” I called, setting the table. Jake and Tommy ran over, excited. I served them both big portions, making sure Jake got his plate first. The three of us sat down, and I started eating with them, smiling and chatting about their day.
A woman having breakfast with her two sons | Source: Midjourney
Mark stood by the table, waiting. At first, he didn’t seem to notice that I hadn’t made him a plate. He just stood there, watching us eat.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Where’s mine?”
I looked up at him calmly. “Oh, I thought you could have some special time with your food after we’re done. Just like you did with Jake.”
His face changed. He frowned, confusion spreading across it. “What? That’s different.”
A woman talking to her husband in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
I shook my head, keeping my voice steady. “Is it? Because this is exactly what you did to Jake.”
Mark stood there, staring at me, trying to figure out what to say. He looked down at the table, realizing I wasn’t going to budge. I let the silence stretch for a moment, giving him time to think.
“You made Jake feel like he wasn’t part of this family,” I said quietly but firmly. “That’s not okay. Not ever.”
A man standing in his kitchen | Source: Midjourney
Mark’s frustration was clear, but he didn’t argue. He sat down, and I handed him a plate with the leftover spaghetti. He didn’t say much, but I could tell he knew I was serious.
After dinner, once the boys were in bed, I sat down with Mark. I wasn’t angry anymore — just tired and disappointed. He needed to understand the damage he’d done, and I needed him to hear me.
A woman having a serious talk with her husband | Source: Midjourney
“Look,” he started, “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I just wanted to spend time with Tommy. Jake has his own dad, you know? I figured it’d be good for him to bond with his dad when he’s with him.”
I shook my head. “That’s not how this works, Mark. Jake lives here. He’s part of this family. When you married me, you married into this family, and that includes Jake. You don’t get to treat him like he’s second-best just because he has another dad.”
A man looking to his side | Source: Midjourney
Mark looked away, his jaw clenched. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“I know you didn’t, but you did,” I replied softly. “You made him feel like he doesn’t belong here. That’s not something he should ever feel in his own home.”
He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “I didn’t think about it like that. I just thought—”
“You thought wrong,” I interrupted, my voice firm. “Jake is your son too. Maybe not by blood, but in every other way, he’s yours. If you can’t see that, then we have a problem.”
A serious woman talking to her husband in their living room | Source: Midjourney
Mark was silent for a long time. I could see him processing what I’d said, but I didn’t let him off the hook.
“If you ever make Jake feel like he’s not part of this family again, we’re done. No warnings. No second chances. You treat both boys equally, or you don’t treat either of them at all.”
He finally nodded, the weight of my words sinking in. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I understand.”
A shot of a serious dark-haired woman | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I watched from the kitchen as Mark made breakfast. He scrambled eggs for both boys, setting the table for all three of them. Tommy was his usual bubbly self, but I could see Mark making an effort with Jake, asking him about his drawings, trying to include him in the conversation.
A man cooking breakfast | Source: Midjourney
It was a small start, but it was something. Trust would take time to rebuild, but for now, it seemed like Mark understood what was at stake.
I wasn’t ready to forgive him yet. But I was hopeful that maybe, just maybe, things would get better.
A family having breakfast | Source: Midjourney
Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: After a week away, I came home to the strange and unsettling sight of my kids sleeping on the cold hallway floor. Heart pounding, I searched for answers, only to find my husband missing and odd noises coming from the kids’ room. What I uncovered next left me furious — and ready for a fight!
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.
I Discovered My Husband on Tinder and Decided to Catfish Him with a Fake Profile — He Believes He’s Being Unfaithful, but It’s All Part of My Scheme for Payback
Finally, his profile came up, with him smiling that same smile that had once made me fall in love. I took a deep breath as I swiped right. Fortunately, we matched right away. GAME ON!
The first step was to build a connection. I knew everything about Dexter: his favorite movie (“The Godfather”), his favorite whiskey (Glenfiddich), and even his secret love for 80s pop music. Using Leah’s profile, I mirrored his interests and crafted a persona that would be irresistible to him.
I made sure to mention my love for “The Godfather” in my bio and put up a picture of Leah holding a glass of Glenfiddich. I knew exactly how to pull him in. We started chatting, and he took the bait. Our conversations were filled with flirty banter and deep talks about life.
“Wow, you love ‘The Godfather’ too?” Dexter messaged. “It’s my all-time favorite movie.”
I replied as Leah, “Yes, it’s a masterpiece! And Glenfiddich is my go-to drink while watching it. What about you?”
“Same here,” he wrote back. “Nothing beats a good movie and a great whiskey.”
He told Leah about his dreams and fears, things he hadn’t shared with me in years. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m stuck in a rut,” he confided one evening. “I have all these plans, but I can’t seem to make them happen.”
“I’m here for you,” I typed. “You can talk to me about anything.”
Every evening, I’d sit on the couch next to him, pretending to scroll through my phone while he texted Leah. It was surreal, living under the same roof and harboring so many secrets. I’d glance at him out of the corner of my eye, watching as he smiled at his phone, completely engrossed in his messages to Leah.
After a few weeks of daily chats, I knew he was hooked. It was time for phase two: gaining his trust. I started hinting at financial troubles, weaving tales of sudden car repairs and unexpected medical bills.
Over the next few days, I continued to spin stories of desperation to Dexter through Leah’s account. He was eager to help, wanting to be her knight in shining armor. It didn’t take long for him to start transferring money to the account I had set up.
“I don’t ever want you to feel alone, Leah. You can always count on me,” he texted Leah one day while sitting right next to me. “Remember, I’m only a message away.”
This Dexter that I had come to know as Leah was someone I didn’t recognize as Phoebe. It pained me to continue the game, but I knew I had to keep going.
Each sob story I fed him made him more determined to save this imaginary woman. Living this double life was exhausting but thrilling. Every day, I played the devoted wife, making breakfast for our kids and chatting with Dexter about his day at work.
Every night, I transformed into Leah, the damsel in distress who had him wrapped around her finger. “Dex, I don’t know how to thank you enough,” I texted. “You’ve been my rock through all of this.”
“I just want to see you happy,” he responded. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I watched as he fell deeper into the trap, blinded by his infatuation and guilt. He was constantly checking his phone, eager for Leah’s messages, completely unaware of the truth that lay just beneath the surface.
The third step was all about increasing the stakes. With his trust secured, I began to ask for larger amounts, weaving elaborate stories that played on his desire to be a hero. One evening, I texted him as Leah, “Dex, I don’t know what to do. My car broke down, and the repair costs are way more than I can afford. I’m so scared I’ll lose my job if I can’t get to work.”
He replied almost instantly, “Don’t worry, Leah. I’ll take care of it. How much do you need?”
“About $1,500,” I wrote back, holding my breath.
“Consider it done,” he replied, and minutes later, the money was in my account.
Each transaction brought me closer to my goal. I asked for help with rent and then “emergency” medical procedures for a sick family member. Dexter was more than willing to help, convinced he was the hero Leah needed. What he didn’t realize was that he was funding my escape.
While he was distracted by his affair, I meticulously planned my departure. I found a new place to live, made arrangements for the kids, and discreetly packed our essentials.
Every day, I gathered a little more evidence of his infidelity and financial transactions, making sure I had enough to protect myself if he tried to contest anything later. I took screenshots of our chats, saved copies of bank statements, and even recorded a few of our conversations where he talked about his “true feelings” for Leah.
“Leah, I feel like I can be honest with you,” he wrote one evening. “I’ve never felt this way before. You understand me in a way no one else does.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” I replied, heart pounding. “I care about you a lot, Dex.”
“I care about you too,” he responded. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we could be together for real. I know it sounds crazy, but I think I might be falling for you.”
Reading his confession, I felt a mix of anger and satisfaction. I saved the conversation, knowing it would be crucial later. He had no idea that his heartfelt messages were sealing his fate.
The final step was to reveal my plan. I knew the perfect way to do it. I sent him a final message from the fake account, arranging a meet-up at a fancy restaurant.
“Dex, I feel like we’ve known each other forever. I think it’s time we finally meet in person. How about dinner at The Grand at 8 p.m. this Friday?”
He replied within seconds, “I’ve been waiting for this moment, Leah. I’ll be there.”
On the day of the meeting, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. This was it.
I dressed in my best outfit, a simple yet elegant black dress that Dexter always said was his favorite. I wanted to look my best when I confronted him. I arrived at The Grand a bit early and took a seat at a quiet corner table where I could see the entrance clearly.
I ordered a glass of wine and sat there, watching the clock tick closer to 8 p.m. Finally, Dexter walked in, looking around eagerly. He was wearing the suit I had bought him for our anniversary a few years ago. He looked nervous but excited, completely unaware of what was about to happen.
As he scanned the room, I stood up and walked over to him. “Dexter,” I said, my voice steady.
He turned, his eyes widening in shock. “Phoebe? What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I replied, holding up a folder. “But I think you know.”
He looked at the folder, confusion and panic mixing on his face. “What’s that?”
“Let’s sit down,” I suggested, guiding him to the table I had been sitting at. He followed, still looking dazed.
Once we were seated, I placed the folder in front of him. “Open it,” I said.
With shaking hands, he opened the folder and began to go through the contents. Inside were screenshots of our conversations, evidence of his infidelity, and a detailed list of all the money he had sent to Leah’s account—my account. His face turned pale as he realized he had been played.
“I knew all along,” I said calmly, watching him. “This was my way of getting back at you and securing my freedom. The money you sent to your ‘lover’ will help me and the kids start a new life away from you.”
He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and anger. “Phoebe, I can explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain,” I cut him off. “You betrayed me, Dexter. You made vows to me, and you broke them. Now, you’re going to face the consequences.”
He opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, realizing the evidence was undeniable. There was nothing he could say to make it better or take back what he had done.
I stood up, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “I’m leaving, Dexter. Don’t try to find us, and don’t think you can contest anything. I have all the evidence I need to make sure you don’t.”
He sat there, stunned, as I walked out of the restaurant. I felt a strange sense of satisfaction and freedom as I left him behind. That evening, I moved into our new home, taking the kids with me. The money I had accumulated ensured we were comfortable and had a fresh start.
The new place was cozy, nothing extravagant but perfect for us. The kids were a bit confused at first, but I explained it was a new adventure. They were excited about their new rooms, and I felt a sense of relief knowing we were safe and away from Dexter’s deceit.
Over the next few days, I settled into our new life. I enrolled the kids in a new school and started looking for a job. With the money Dexter had unwittingly provided, we were stable for the time being. I even found myself smiling more, feeling lighter than I had in years.
One evening, as I was tucking the kids into bed, my daughter looked up at me and said, “Mom, are we going to be okay?”
I smiled and kissed her forehead. “Yes, sweetheart. We’re going to be just fine.”
As I sat in the living room later, sipping a cup of tea, I reflected on everything that had happened. Revenge is best served cold, and Dexter learned that the hard way. He thought he was cheating, but he was just falling into my trap. Now, I am free, financially secure, and ready to move forward without him.
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