My husband set fire to our house, sneering, “Now you’ll live under my roof, at my mercy!”

 The Demolition and Legal Fallout

As days turned into weeks, Hudson stayed away. An urgent work trip came up, a trip I couldn’t refuse, as it was crucial for my job now more than ever since I was the sole caregiver for my mother. The idea of leaving her alone was daunting.

I discussed my dilemma with her, and with typical selflessness, she suggested a temporary stay in hospice care. “It’s just while you’re away,” she reassured me. “Those places are comfortable, and I’ll be well taken care of”.

Tears filled my eyes as I agreed, heartbroken yet knowing it was the best option. We arranged her hospice care, and I prepared for my trip, feeling a mix of relief and sorrow. I didn’t inform Hudson about the hospice or my travel plans. He was still with his parents, purportedly to teach me a lesson.

The irony of his absence during this time of genuine need was not lost on me. The night before I left, I sent Hudson a curt text: “Going on a business trip. Please look after the house”. I hoped he might reflect on his actions. More than anything, I needed him to at least maintain the practical aspects of our shared life in my absence.

I didn’t expect a response from Hudson, and none came. Five days into my business trip, my phone rang unexpectedly. It was Hudson. His tone dripped with a twisted delight as he greeted me.

“Hello, Ariana. Guess what I’ve done. I’ve demolished your precious house. Watching the walls fall and the roof collapse was spectacular”.

I felt a chill run through me. “You did what? Why would you do something like that?” I managed to say.

He replied with disturbing glee: “Because now you’ll have to rely on me to build a new one on my land! That’s right, my land! Your mother gave it to me, remember? You’ll be dependent on me, Ariana, just like a good wife should be”.

As the gravity of his actions sank in, a hysterical laugh burst from me, echoing through the empty hotel room. Hudson seemed unsettled by my reaction. “Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny, Ariana”.

Once I regained my composure, my voice was calm but icy. “Oh, oh, Hudson, you fool. Mom changed her mind at the last minute. She didn’t trust you, especially after seeing how you treated her, so she switched it”.

“The house is yours—or rather was yours—but the land, that’s mine”.

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line before Hudson’s small, disbelieving voice came through. “You’re lying”.

“I’m not,” I said, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “And Hudson, I want a divorce”.

I hung up, my hands trembling as the reality of his betrayal and the need for a divorce settled in. It struck me then with horrifying clarity: Hudson didn’t know about Mom’s move to hospice. He had been willing to demolish the house with her potentially inside.

Upon returning, I immediately filed for divorce. Hudson fought bitterly, claiming the land based on my mother’s initial verbal agreement. But I was prepared. I had the updated paperwork showing the last-minute changes made.

The legal battle was fierce, but justice prevailed, and I retained the land, leaving Hudson with nothing but the remains of his destructiveness. Throughout this ordeal, Whan was my steadfast supporter.

When he learned of his father’s actions, his reaction was one of shock and revulsion. “He did what? I can’t believe it. I’m done with him,” Whan declared, severing ties with his father.

After finalizing the divorce and gaining full ownership of the land, I chose to sell it. The proceeds allowed me to purchase a modest apartment. Meanwhile, my mother’s health continued to decline. I visited her daily at the hospice, savoring every moment.

A few months later, she passed away peacefully with me by her side. Her funeral was small and private. Again, Hudson and his family were absent, which this time felt like a relief.

In the weeks following her passing, as I sorted through her belongings, I sensed something amiss. It wasn’t until one evening while browsing eBay that I discovered listings for familiar items. Mom’s antique vase, her cherished armchair, even the pearls Dad had given her on their 27th anniversary.

Anger coursed through me as I realized Hudson was behind this. The next morning, fueled by a mix of fury and resolve, I drove to Hudson’s parents’ house. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white, ready to confront him and reclaim what was rightfully part of my heritage.

When I arrived at Hudson’s parents’ house and knocked, it was my former father-in-law who answered the door. He appeared surprisingly frail and pale, which caught me off guard. “Are you okay?” I asked impulsively, concerned by his gaunt appearance.

He twisted his face in anger and snapped back, “I’m perfectly healthy, unlike your parents”.

His harsh words stung, and I responded more out of reflex than a genuine apology. “I’m sorry,” my real purpose came forth as I continued. “I’ve seen my mother’s items for sale online. I want them back”.

Hudson’s mother joined us at the door, her expression one of feigned concern. “Oh, Ariana dear, those things belong to us now. After all, the house was Hudson’s when your mother passed”.

My frustration mounted. “That’s not how it works, and you know it. Those are my family’s heirlooms, and I want them back now”.

They refused, and the ensuing argument turned bitter and loud. Eventually, they shut the door in my face, but I was far from defeated. Determined, I headed straight to the police station and filed a report.

Faced with potential legal action, Hudson’s parents reluctantly returned my mother’s belongings. The jewelry, the furniture—everything. Seven months had passed since the dust settled on my divorce and the ordeal with Hudson’s family.

Life had slowly started to find a new rhythm, and I was beginning to heal from the wounds of betrayal. Then, unexpectedly, I received news that shattered our fragile peace.

My former father-in-law had passed away from cancer, which had been in its advanced, untreatable stages by the time it was diagnosed. Despite our strained relations, I felt a pang of sympathy. No one deserved to suffer that way.

My empathy, however, was soon tested when I received a summons to the notary’s office for the reading of his will. Hudson, his mother, Whan, and I were all called to attend. The atmosphere was tense.

Hudson avoided looking at me, treating me as if I were a stranger. His mother couldn’t hide her disdain. “How dare you show your face here, you ungrateful gold digger,” she hissed as I took my seat.

I kept my composure, and Whan offered his hand in silent support. The notary began to read the will, and the contents took everyone by surprise. My former father-in-law had left his house to Whan, while the land and money were bequeathed to Hudson and his mother.

Hudson and his mother erupted in anger. “This is outrageous!” Hudson yelled. “Everything should have come to us, we, his real family!”

The notary adjusted his glasses and calmly stated, “The will is legally binding. Mr. Matthew was of sound mind when he made these decisions. You won’t be able to contest this in court”.