My marriage felt like a dream until I discovered my husband was renting a secret house on the outskirts. What I found when I visited unveiled a heart-stopping truth, exposing the dark reality of the man I thought I knew.
For years, I thought my husband Stan and I were living a fairy tale. He was my soulmate, not just a partner I shared the same roof or bed with, and I happily put his wishes first, even delaying having children. Then, one day, a forgotten phone revealed the painful truth: my husband wasn’t who I thought he was.
Stan and I met during a press conference in Tokyo seven years ago. We’ve been together ever since, married for five of those golden years. He seemed perfect in every sense of the word. “Mindy, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” Stan once said, collapsing onto our plush sofa after a long day at work. “But seeing your face makes it all better.” I smiled, settling next to him.
“Tell me about it. I want to hear everything.” Those were the days when we couldn’t get enough of each other.Stan loved me and showered me with precious gifts, but after some time, I got bored of his expensive gifts. I wanted him, his time, and not those materialistic sparkly diamonds or opulent pearls.
“Another necklace?” I once asked, trying to mask my disappointment as I opened the velvet box. Stan beamed, oblivious to my tone. “Only the best for you, darling.”I forced a smile, wishing he’d understand that his presence was worth more than any jewelry.Stan worked in an office in an amazing position and made good money.
But the thing is, he started spending more time at work while I stayed at home, dusting, cooking, and cleaning. Stan barely had time for me, and I missed those days when we used to Netflix binge, bake together, or even grab some good sleep. Stan started coming home late, and I’d be mostly asleep. His focus shifted entirely to work, and as his career climbed new heights, our connection dwindled.So while I was already dealing with the heartbreak of Stan not spending time with me, on a fateful morning, right after my husband left for work, I noticed he’d forgotten his phone on the table in a hurry.
I thought he would come back for it, but he didn’t. I went about my day, doing laundry and refilling the vases with fresh garden flowers when his phone buzzed suddenly. Curiosity overcame me, and I impulsively grabbed it to check the message.Stan had locked his phone, but he didn’t know I had once seen his pattern lock and knew it by heart, though I never snooped into his phone or privacy before.
But something compelled me to check the message after seeing it written in all caps with the words “final reminder.” So I unlocked Stan’s phone and saw the message: “STAN! THIS IS YOUR FINAL REMINDER TO PAY THE RENT FOR THE HOUSE, OR I’LL HAVE TO RENT IT TO SOMEONE ELSE! TOMORROW IS THE DEADLINE!”My hands shook as I read it again. Stan was renting a house? Without telling me? I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Just then, he called my phone. “Hey, honey. I left my phone at home. I’ll be home late tonight… important client meeting.” I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “Fine!” As I hung up, I couldn’t help but wonder what Stan was hiding from me.
The rest of the day was a blur as I obsessively checked the clock. At precisely five o’clock, I hailed a cab, directing the driver to Stan’s office, which I knew closed around half-past five or six. I didn’t take my car because mine was a yellow Mini Cooper, and I didn’t want to risk Stan finding out I was following him. “I need to be there a bit early,” I told myself, my heart pounding. “I have to find out what he’s up to.”At 6 p.m. sharp, I saw Stan leaving his office and get in his car, driving to the outskirts of the city. Weird. “Follow that car,” I instructed the driver, feeling like I was in some kind of spy movie. After what felt like an eternity on wheels, Stan parked outside a small, rundown house and went inside the building.I asked the cabbie to wait, and gathering my courage, I went after Stan ten minutes later. My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob. “Here goes nothing,” I whispered to myself. I slowly opened the door and nearly lost my breath when I saw Stan sitting on a chair near an easel of painting. What was going on? I barged inside, and Stan’s face turned pale as though he’d seen a ghost. “M-Mindy?” he stammered. “What are you doing here?”I ignored his question, my eyes darting around the room filled with canvases and paint tubes. “What on earth are you doing here, Stan? Why did you rent this house?” Stan didn’t understand how I’d found out until I told him about seeing the message on his phone. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. “This house is my escape from the daily grind. It’s where I come to refresh and refocus.” I felt a surge of relief and confusion. “But why didn’t you tell me?”Shame flushing his face, he averted his gaze. “I was embarrassed about my hobby, given my high-profile job. I feared your teasing.” I moved closer, my anger softening. “Stan, I’d never laugh at something that makes you happy. But why all the secrecy?” Although I wanted to believe him, my instincts told me he was still hiding something from me. And I was right. Just two minutes later, someone knocked on the door.Stan jumped up, panic flashing across his face. “Mindy, maybe you should go home now. I can explain everything later.” But I was already moving towards the door. “No, I think I’ll get my answers now.” “Mindy, wait—” Stan tried stopping me, but I approached the door and opened it, only to stand back in shock.A young, beautiful brunette stood in the doorway, chewing bubblegum and eyeing me curiously. “Who are you?” I asked. She blew a bubble before answering, “I’m Luke’s girlfriend. He paints portraits of me. And who are you? What are you doing here?” My world spun. “Luke? Girlfriend?” I sputtered. Then, finding my voice, I declared, “I’m his WIFE! And his name’s STAN! Not Luke!”The girl’s eyes widened in shock. Before I could process what was happening, Stan rushed past me, pushing the girl away and slamming the door shut. He turned to me, his face ashen. “Mindy, I can explain—” I yanked away as he tried to cup my face. “What’s going on, Stan? Who is she?” My eyes darted around the room, noticing for the first time that all the easels were draped with beige cloth. With trembling hands, I pulled the cloth off the nearest one.My breath caught in my throat. It was a painting of a half-naked woman, the same woman who had just been at the door. Tears began streaming down my face as I moved from easel to easel, uncovering more paintings. “Mindy, please,” Stan begged. “It’s not what you think—” But I was beyond listening. I dropped to my knees, pulling out more canvases from under the bed. They were all the same—portraits of scantily clad women in suggestive poses. And then I found the photos.“Oh God,” I choked out, staring at images of Stan… my Stan… in compromising positions with these women. The truth hit me like a freight train. Stan was cheating on me. “It was a mistake,” he kept saying, his words tumbling over each other. “Some kind of obsession I can’t overcome. Mindy, please—” But I was already moving towards the door, my vision blurred by tears.“Mindy, wait!” Stan called after me. “Let me explain!” I ignored his pleas, stumbling out into the night air. My whole body shook as I got into the cab, Stan’s cries still echoing in my ears. Overwhelmed, I raced home and frantically packed before seeking refuge at my aunt’s place. The next morning, I called my lawyer and initiated divorce proceedings.Two weeks have passed since that day. As I wait for the divorce proceedings to begin, I can’t stop shaking. How could I have shared my life with someone like Stan? How could I have been so blind? I reported him to the police, shattering his carefully curated public image. It felt like the only way to reclaim some power in this nightmare.As I sit in my new apartment, staring at the walls, I can’t help but think about how quickly my “perfect” marriage crumbled. It was as fragile as glass, shattering into a million pieces at my feet. I don’t know how long it will take to heal from these scars. The betrayal runs deep, inflicted by the very man I worshipped, trusted, and loved.
Our bed was shaking for some reason, and it took a while before my eyes focused enough to see Scott kneeling by the bed, holding a baby.“Scott?” I gasped in confusion. “What’s going on?” He looked at me before his eyes darted around as if thinking of an excuse, and finally whispered, “Everly, this is Ella,” he gulped, and my world spun as he continued. “She is my orphaned niece.
My stepsister, Maya, is gone now. I found out about her just a few weeks ago.”I arranged myself on the bed, dumbfounded. “A few weeks ago?” I repeated, frowning, as I struggled to understand how the baby had appeared in our room on our wedding night.“Everly, I was scared you’d leave if you knew about her,” Scott confessed, not meeting my eyes. “How could you do this, Scott? How can we start our life together with secrets and lies?” I asked, appalled. But I took a deep breath. “Scott, what’s the plan here? Are you… wait, are we going to adopt Ella?” “I haven’t thought that far, Everly.
Right now, I just need to take care of her,” he answered and suggested we postpone the discussion. I agreed because I was too tired to keep talking about it, but I went to sleep with a horrible feeling in my gut.We returned home to Scott’s vast estate the following day with Ella and settled into a life with her as if something had been decided last night. I felt powerless, but I had no idea how to change that. As I held Ella one evening, I sought answers about Scott’s past and his stepsister, Maya. “Scott, if you and your family cut ties with your stepsister, why insist on raising her baby?” I wondered. Scott’s reluctance to answer made me angry. “But she’s Ella’s mother, right? What else do you know about her?” I pressed, my voice sharper.“Everly, it’s not about Maya anymore.
It’s about Ella. She’s innocent in all this. And she has no one but us,” Scott finally said. I inquired about Ella’s father, but he cut me off, refusing to say more. A couple of weeks later, curiosity led me to Scott’s study while he was away at work. I discovered a photograph on his desk that contradicted everything he had told me before. It was a picture of Scott, seemingly happy and close with a pregnant woman, potentially Maya. When Scott walked into the house later that evening, his smile faded as he noticed my stern expression. “Everly, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.I held up the photo, my voice steady but cold. “Explain this, Scott.
And I want the truth this time. You told me you and your sister were estranged. But this picture tells me otherwise.” Scott’s attempt to dismiss the photo only fueled my frustration. “No more lies, Scott! This photo shows you with a pregnant woman, smiling and happy. How can you claim estrangement?” I yelled. He sighed and plopped on the sofa. “Okay, you’re right. That’s Maya, Ella’s mother. Although my family cut ties with her, I used to meet her secretly… and help her,” he confessed. “Why hide it? Why did you lie to me?”“I was afraid. Afraid you’d leave if you knew the truth. I wanted you to love Ella, to see her as our future…without getting caught up in the complications of her origins,” Scott answered. “Scott, again, how can we build a life on secrets and half-truths?” I asked, crossing my arms. “I need to trust you, for Ella’s sake, for our sake.”
He nodded, but his mouth dropped at my next suggestion. “Maybe we should consider putting Ella up for adoption,” I said tentatively.“Adoption? Everly, that’s unthinkable. Ella is my responsibility,” Scott argued. “Maybe find a loving foster family for her. Someone could be a better mother than me—” He cut me off. “Is this your way of testing me? You think I married you just to have a mother for Ella?” “Yes!” “You’re being ridiculous!” The words felt like a slap, like all those stories about husbands gaslighting their wives. But I knew something was wrong, even if he denied it.Caught in a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions, I left the mansion with Ella, seeking solitude at the beach near our home to ponder the future. There, a mysterious woman approached.
She curled her lip at me and the baby, asking, “Scott’s daughter?” “No, she’s his niece. Who are you? How do you know Scott?” I questioned, wrapping my arms more protectively around Ella. The woman laughed… a cruel sound. “His niece? She’s his spitting image,” she said, smirking before her humor vanished and her eyes turned to mine. “Run for your life,” she whispered and walked off. “Wait!” I called out, but she didn’t look back.I breathed heavily, staring out into the ocean and then looking at Ella. What secrets was she born into? And what danger lurked in the shadows of Scott’s past? *** “We need to talk,” I initiated as I walked through the door later. Scott looked up, pursing his lips. “Everly, I’ve told you everything. There are no more secrets,” he insisted, but his voice didn’t sound so confident. I couldn’t contain my frustration. “No, Scott. There’s something you’re not telling me. Ella isn’t your niece, is she? She’s your daughter,” I accused. Scott choked on his spit and stayed for several minutes after recovering before hanging his head. “Yes, Everly. Ella is my daughter,” he confessed at last.“How could you lie to me about your child? How could you betray our trust like this?” I cried out. “I thought if you loved her as my niece, we could eventually become a family,” he explained. Angered and heartbroken, I demanded honesty about Maya and their past, leading Scott to reveal more about his relationship with Ella’s mother, who wasn’t his stepsister, and his desperation to provide Ella with a stable life. “You’ve not only betrayed me,” I said, starting to cry. “But you’ve also betrayed your daughter by starting our marriage like this.”I cried for days, contemplating what to do. I had grown to love Ella dearly but didn’t know if I could remain married to a liar. After a few days, I faced my husband again. “I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore,” I declared. I had already packed my things. Scott rushed to grab my arm. “Please, Everly, think about Ella. She needs you,” he begged, but my resolve was firm. “Ella is your daughter, Scott. Not mine,” I clarified. I knew the words were hurtful and worked because Scott dropped his hold on me and let me go. *** The silence of my small apartment downtown was so different from the life I had left behind. Immersing myself in my work as a fashion designer, I sought solace in the familiarity of fabrics and designs, yet the void Ella’s absence left was profound.Despite the hurt, I found myself missing Ella’s laughter. Meanwhile, Scott’s attempts at reconciliation were relentless. Yet, the thought of facing him, of rebuilding from the ashes of our marriage, seemed an insurmountable challenge. I ignored him and didn’t reply to his texts or answer his calls. But he kept doing it. And one morning, Scott knocked on my door. He stood there with Ella, and her giggles were a bittersweet melody that softened the walls I had built around my heart. Reluctantly, I allowed them into my apartment. Scott’s apologies and promises of a future built on honesty clashed with my doubt. “Scott, would you have forgiven me if I had done what you did?” I questioned.He didn’t know how to answer that, but his vow of transparency and plea for us to become a real family resonated with a part of me still yearning for the dream we once shared. “A family built on truth, not lies,” Scott promised. “Please come home, Everly.” I couldn’t deny that it was what I wanted too. I grabbed Ella and hugged her tightly to my chest, nodding at Scott, who came to wrap us in his embrace. *** Months after returning home to Scott and baby Ella, Scott suddenly excused himself from our family time for an alleged emergency with a friend. His hasty departure on his day off was concerning. What was so urgent that couldn’t wait? It only got worse when an enigmatic envelope appeared on our doorstep the next day. Inside was a photograph of the mysterious woman from the beach, holding a child, accompanied by a chilling message: “Maya’s not the only secret Scott’s buried.”The implication was clear: more secrets were lurking beneath the surface of Scott’s past. Frantically, I called the number on the note, reaching the woman from the beach, who finally introduced herself as Amanda. “Meet me at Brown Beans Café,” she instructed urgently, adding, “Don’t tell Scott.” At the café, Amanda, with her baby in tow, dropped a bombshell: “I’m Scott’s ex-wife… and this is our baby, Renee.” I didn’t even have to consider it twice. I knew she wasn’t lying. But I didn’t expect the vivid pain I felt as my world shattered once more. “Sco-Scott’s ex-wife??” I stammered, heartbroken.Amanda’s revelations grew darker as she delved into Scott’s past involvement with a cult practicing bizarre rituals, seeking to increase their male members. “Everly, you need to understand the danger you’re in. Scott’s not who he seems. He’s just using you,” she insisted. I was paralyzed with shock. “But why? How did you find out about all this?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Maya figured it out somehow. She tried to expose him, and that’s when she had her accident,” she whispered, grabbing my hand. “You need to be careful. Don’t let him know what you’ve discovered. Just play along until we figure out an escape plan.” This was too much. I stood, but my body betrayed me. I swayed and blacked out. As I lay in the hospital bed hours later, the doctor delivered another shocking piece of news—I was pregnant.Amanda’s grave warning rang in my ears as I returned home, reeling from the revelation that I was pregnant and trapped in a sinister web woven by Scott. “He wants you to have a male child for his cult,” she had said. Her words echoed in my mind, increasing my dread as I entered my home. Fortunately, the house was silent, giving me time to think and prepare. When Scott finally arrived, I was ready, my heart pounding. “We need to talk,” I said, meeting his gaze with a feigned sadness. “I’m pregnant.”Scott’s brief joy turned to anger as I showed him an empty vial. “But I decided to terminate the pregnancy and took this just now—” “You did what? Everly, that’s unforgivable!” Scott screamed, his face reddening and his hand lifting as if to strike me. But he turned, grabbed a vase, and lunged at me. Just then, police officers burst in, arresting him for assault and the murder of his ex-partner. As Scott was handcuffed and taken away, Amanda emerged, her presence a comforting reassurance. A little while later, as the cops finished their business, I was tending to baby Ella with Amanda sitting close by. Her words brought a sense of peace and validation to the confusing moment.“You’ll make a wonderful mother,” she said. I smiled and looked beyond my home, the police car…into the camera. “Cut! That was a perfect shot!” the director yelled, and everything changed. I laughed as Scott, my real-life husband and co-star, embraced me, praising my performance. “You did an incredible job, Everly… I’m so proud of you!” he exclaimed, his eyes shining with pride. The project was born from an actual incident on our wedding night, a humorous misunderstanding involving Scott’s niece, baby Ella. It had sparked Scott’s creativity, leading to the script for our short film.
