09/23/2025
I've been married to Ethan for four years. His mother has always seemed polite but distant.
We rarely saw each other, and whenever I asked, Ethan would shrug. "Mom really values her privacy."
I let it go.
Life was quiet until one day Ethan called me at work, his voice shaking.
"Kate… Mom's tests came back bad. The doctors say it's cancer. She needs chemotherapy right away."
My chest tightened.
I told him: "Don't worry, we'll do everything we can for her."
The treatment was expensive. Her insurance barely covered half.
I worked overtime, drained my savings, and even took freelance projects.
BY THE END OF THE YEAR, I HAD GIVEN ETHAN $113,000.
One Saturday, I met Mrs. Parker, our elderly neighbor, while she was pruning her roses. She looked at me with concern.
"Kate, honey, hello! You look exhausted. Are you okay?"
I sighed.
"Ethan's mom is sick. I'm working overtime to help pay her chemotherapy bills."
She frowned.
"Honey, you must be misunderstanding something. Ethan's mom moved to Arizona almost a decade ago. As far as I know, SHE'S FINE. She and her son just haven't spoken in a while—something happened between them years ago."
My blood ran cold.
"Then… WHAT THE HELL DID I GIVE HIM MONEY FOR?"
I kept my cool, pretending nothing had happened. But I had to know the truth.
That night, after Ethan fell asleep, I opened his laptop. It was locked, but I knew the password.
My fingers trembled as I flipped through the folders on his desktop.
I opened them, and my heart nearly stopped.
My eyes widened: "NO… THIS CAN'T BE TRUE!" ⬇️