My husband, Owen, and I were watching a movie on his laptop when he stepped away for a moment. An email popped up:
“Dear Mr. Philips, we are pleased to announce our New Year Party! Dress code: White Party. You may bring your plus-one (your wife).”
Finally! His company had never allowed spouses before. But as the date got closer and he said nothing, I asked about it. He shrugged and claimed he’d be working that night.
Yeah… right.
Curiosity — and maybe suspicion — pushed me to show up anyway. I dressed in white from head to toe and arrived at the venue.
“Your name?” the receptionist asked.
“Mrs. Philips,” I said confidently. “Owen Philips’ wife.”
He laughed. Laughed.
“Nice try,” he smirked. “Mr. Philips is already inside with his real wife.”
He pointed — and my heart dropped. There was Owen, kissing a woman in a white dress.
I turned around and left before the tears could fall.
The next morning, Owen pretended everything was normal. I hadn’t said a word yet — I wanted answers first.
Then the phone rang.
“Mrs. Philips?” a woman asked. “This is HR from Owen’s office. We need you to come in regarding a… serious matter.”
Serious matter? Oh, I was ready.
They escorted me into a conference room. The HR director folded her hands.
“We want to apologize. You should not have been turned away from the event. You are, according to our records, Mr. Philips’ lawful spouse.”
My heart hammered inside my chest.
“Your husband has been claiming two spouses,” she explained. “To receive double benefits packages. Insurance, travel allowances… all fraud.”
Two spouses. One legal — me. One fake — the woman he kissed.
HR wanted proof of our marriage so they could finalize their investigation. I provided everything they needed.
As I left, Owen arrived — pale, panicked.
In the cold air outside the building, the lies finally spilled out.
“She needed health insurance,” he said desperately. “I thought I was helping her. Then events started requiring a spouse and… I didn’t know how to back out. It wasn’t romantic. Just a stupid lie that snowballed.”
Except I saw them kiss.
“So the fraud wasn’t enough?” I asked. “You had to pretend to love her too?”
He broke. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this. Please don’t leave.”
He lost his job. Faced legal action. Paid back everything he stole. The other woman — Harriet — resigned too. She emailed me, apologizing, insisting she thought I knew.
Did I forgive him? Not completely.
But we went to counseling. He became transparent — phone unlocked, passwords shared, no secrets. And I? I chose to stay… for now.
Because sometimes karma hits harder than revenge ever could.
He destroyed his own double life — and I didn’t have to lift a finger.