After a draining five-day work trip in Denver, all I wanted was to relax at home with my husband Greg. But when I walked through the door, I was stunned — the entire house was empty. Furniture, clothes, pictures — all gone. And Greg wasn’t answering his phone.
While waiting for the police, I noticed a muddy footprint — the distinct pattern from the boots I had gifted Greg’s mother, Linda. Suspicious, I drove to her house and found my furniture inside, as if she’d recreated my home in hers. Greg was there too and accused me of cheating, showing faked “evidence” his mother had compiled with help from my coworker Nate.
When I confronted Nate, he confessed Linda had paid him to fake everything using AI. I called the police again, showed proof of ownership, and they confirmed Greg and Linda had no claim to the items. Both were fined.
Greg tried to apologize, but I was done. He had believed lies over his own wife. I left him and began to rebuild my life, realizing I deserved better. Sometimes, painful endings are just the start of something new.