My Unemployed Husband Stole My Credit Card To Spoil My Best Friend — He Didn’t Know I Was Tracking Every Purchase

Part 1

I funded my husband’s secret life for months without realizing it.

He was spending my money on the last woman I expected.

My novels hit the bestseller lists, bringing in enough money to support us comfortably.

Craig quit his job two years ago, claiming he wanted to focus on managing our household.

Instead, he spent his days playing slot machines and lounging around while I met endless writing deadlines.

I tolerated it because of our eight-year-old son, Tyler.

I wanted Tyler to have his father around.

Then one Tuesday morning, Craig walked into the kitchen wearing a tailored suit.

My fingers hovered over my keyboard as I took in his slicked-back hair and polished shoes.

I asked him where he was going looking so sharp.

He tugged at his collar, his eyes darting toward the window.

He claimed he had a job interview and thought it was time to start contributing again.

I smiled and wished him luck, genuinely believing he was turning over a new leaf.

I stayed up late that night pushing through a stubborn chapter.

The front door finally clicked open at one in the morning.

Craig stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa.

The heavy scent of whiskey and cheap floral perfume rolled off him in waves.

His phone slipped from his hand and landed face-up on the rug.

The screen glowed brightly, showing an unlocked message thread.

I crept over and picked it up.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I read the texts.

He wasn’t at an interview.

He had been at a high-end restaurant overlooking the city skyline.

The woman sitting across from him was Brenda.

Brenda was my closest friend, a married woman I trusted completely.

I clamped a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.

Tears blurred my vision, but I forced myself to breathe quietly.

I needed evidence before I did anything else.

My hands shook as I forwarded screenshots of their messages and photos to my own phone.

I deleted the sent records and carefully placed his phone back on the rug.

The next morning, I poured him a cup of coffee and kept my voice perfectly steady.

I casually asked how his interview went and why he came home so late.

He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

He muttered an excuse about running into an old friend and grabbing a drink.

I nodded slowly and let the lie hang in the air.

A month passed without me saying a word.

I needed an ironclad plan to protect Tyler.

Craig started going out more frequently, taking advantage of my long hours locked in my office.

I used his absences to dig through his belongings.

I found crumpled receipts for designer handbags and expensive jewelry stuffed in the pockets of his winter coats.

None of those items had ever made their way to me.

He was buying them for Brenda, but he had no income and lived off the modest allowance I gave him.

I couldn’t figure out where the money was coming from.

I called my brother, Dan, and asked him to watch Tyler for the afternoon.

I lied and told Dan I needed to run a few errands in the city.

I parked a block away from our house and waited for Craig to leave.

I trailed his car all the way to a luxury shopping district downtown.

I watched from behind a display window as Craig and Brenda strolled arm-in-arm into a high-end boutique.

They were laughing and pointing at leather bags behind glass cases.

When they stepped up to the register, Craig pulled a familiar piece of plastic from his wallet.

It was my secondary business credit card.

I kept it in my desk drawer for emergencies and work expenses.

I hadn’t checked the statements in months because of my chaotic deadline schedule.

He had stolen it and was using my hard-earned money to finance his affair.

Disgust washed over me, burning away whatever lingering affection I had for him.

I snapped photos of them kissing outside the store and drove straight home.

I hacked into his computer while he was in the shower that night.

His texts with Brenda were synced to his desktop application.

They were planning a four-day romantic getaway for the upcoming holiday weekend.

I printed the itinerary and smiled grimly.

This was the opportunity I needed.

I asked Dan to watch Tyler for the long weekend, claiming I had an important work trip.

Dan crossed his arms and looked at me knowingly.

He told me I didn’t have to handle everything alone.

He revealed that Tyler had already figured out his father was cheating.

My eight-year-old son had noticed Craig sneaking around and treating me poorly.

Tyler walked into the room right then and hugged me tightly.

He told me he was on my side and just wanted me to be happy.

I cried into my son’s shoulder, finally letting go of the guilt.

The night before Craig’s trip, I stood in the doorway of our bedroom as he packed his suitcase.

I asked him casually if he was excited for his weekend with the guys.

He practically sweated through his shirt as he lied to my face one last time.

The next morning, the moment his car pulled out of the driveway, I picked up my phone.

I called my bank and reported the secondary credit card as stolen, freezing it completely.

The phone rang a few hours later, his caller ID flashing across my screen, and I took a deep breath before answering.

I stared at the ringing phone, letting it chime a few extra times to heighten his anxiety.

My hands were entirely steady now.

All the sorrow I had felt over the past few weeks had been entirely replaced by a cold, sharp focus.

He had no idea what was waiting for him on the other end of the line.

I adjusted my grip on the device and pressed the green accept button.