I thought catching my husband cheating was the lowest point, but when he brought his mistress home to throw me out, I hit a new low. What he didn’t see coming was his grandfather stepping in to turn the tables. I’m Ellen, and after five years with Ryan, our marriage had lost its spark. Our dream of starting a family faded as we faced fertility struggles. I sank into self-blame, while Ryan drifted, spending hours at the gym or driving his flashy new car, leaving me to question everything.
Last night, my friend Sophie convinced me to get out. Ryan said he’d be late at the gym, so we went to a charming bar with live music and soft lights. Sophie’s jokes lifted my spirits until she gasped, staring past me. “Ellen, is that Ryan?” My heart sank. I turned and saw him in a booth, laughing with a young woman wrapped around him. Anger surged, and I stormed over. “Ryan, really?” I snapped. He looked up, then smirked. “Ellen, it’s over,” he said. “I love Kelly now.”
Kelly grinned triumphantly, and I stood there, stunned. Ryan’s cold words echoed: “We’re done.” Sophie tugged me out, promising he’d pay, and took me to her place, where I sobbed. By morning, I decided to confront him, hoping for remorse. Instead, I found my belongings—clothes, photos, books—scattered on the lawn. Ryan stood with Kelly on the porch, smirking. “My grandpa owns this house,” he said. “You’re out. Grab your stuff.” I swallowed my pain, packing my car, while Kelly gloated. “This place needs new style,” she said.
I was planning my next move, wondering if Sophie had space, when a sleek car pulled up. Ryan’s grandfather, Mr. Carter, stepped out, his face dark with anger. He’d always treated me like family, despite his stern reputation. “What’s this?” he demanded. Ryan stammered, “It’s personal, Grandpa.” Mr. Carter’s voice boomed. “Personal? You’re tossing out Ellen for her?” He jabbed a finger at Kelly. Ryan tried to protest, but Mr. Carter silenced him. “This house is mine. I gave it to you for a life with Ellen. You’re done here.”
Ryan’s jaw dropped. “You can’t!” Mr. Carter was firm. “You’re cut off—no money, no support. Leave.” Ryan and Kelly fled, stunned. Inside, Mr. Carter’s tone softened. “I came to offer IVF funding,” he said. “Now, this house is yours.” He promised to put the deed in my name, apologizing for Ryan’s actions. I cried, overwhelmed by his kindness. Soon, the house was mine legally. Kelly left Ryan when his accounts emptied, and he was left drifting between friends’ couches.
A week later, Ryan appeared, ragged, begging me to talk to his grandfather. “I’m broke,” he said, no remorse for me, just his lost wealth. “You made your choice,” I said, closing the door on his angry shouts. The satisfaction was undeniable. Maybe I’ll feel sorry for him one day, but not now. Ryan thought he could crush me, but Mr. Carter’s support gave me a new start, proving loyalty and justice can outshine betrayal.
