Sell the House, Keep the Dignity

I'm pregnant.
The voice on the other end of the line was young. I stood in the middle of my living room, my hand tightening around my phone.
Congratulations.
Kevin says he wants you to move out of the house.
I laughed. A dry, humorless sound.
Is he there with you?
Yes.
Put him on.
A few seconds of silence, then Kevin's voice, laced with panic. "Grace, let me explain"
"Don't," I cut him off. "I have 47 screenshots of your text messages. Bank records show 67 separate transfers to her, totaling eighty thousand dollars."
The line went dead quiet.
"I also have photos. And audio recordings. And video." I stared out the window at the city lights. "City Hall. Tomorrow."
I hung up.

1.
Kevin came home at ten o'clock that night.
He opened the door and saw me sitting on the sofa, waiting.
"Grace..."
"Sit."
He sat down across from me, his head bowed.
"How many months pregnant is Tina?" I asked.
"Three."
"And what's the plan?"
"I..." He looked up, his eyes pleading. "I want a divorce."
I nodded. "Fine."
He stared at me, stunned.
"But the house..." he hesitated. "The baby needs a home."
I just looked at him. When we got married five years ago, he had promised to give me a home. The down payment on this house was $200,000. My money. The mortgage is $2,500 a month. For the past five years, I've been the one paying it.
He makes $4,000 a month. I make 0-05,000.
"The baby?" I asked, my voice calm. "Your baby?"
"Yes."
"With Tina?"
"Yes."
I smiled. "Then that's something for you and Tina to figure out."
"But the house is in your name."
"That's right. In my name." I stood up. "Which means the house is mine."
"Grace, you can't be this selfish," Kevin said, getting to his feet as well. "The baby is innocent."
"And what about me?"
He had no answer.
I walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
My phone lit up. A text from my best friend, Sarah. Well? Did you find anything?
I typed back. I did. 67 transfers. $80,000.
Holy shit.
I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Three months ago, I noticed Kevin was always ordering two meals for delivery. One to his office, and one to another address across town.
Two months ago, I saw a contact in his phone named "T," with a message history that included, "Hey babe, what time are you coming home tonight?"
One month ago, I checked his bank records.
Sixty-seven transfers, all to a Tina Bell.
The first one was three years ago, for a thousand dollars.
The most recent was last month, for five thousand.
I did the math. A grand total of eighty thousand dollars.
Kevin's salary for the past five years was roughly $48,000 a year, making his total income around $240,000 before taxes. He had given almost all of his disposable income to Tina.
Meanwhile, the most expensive thing he had ever bought for me was my wedding ring. It cost $300.
I turned off my phone and closed my eyes.
Tomorrow, I had an appointment with Mr. Evans, my private investigator.

2.
I met Mr. Evans at a coffee shop the next afternoon.
"Ms. Hale," he said, sliding a manila envelope across the table. "Here's the information you requested."
I opened it. Inside was a stack of photographs.
The first showed Kevin standing with a young woman in front of an apartment building.
The second showed them holding hands, walking into the lobby.
The third was a photo of the woman, her pregnant belly clearly visible.
"Her name is Tina Bell, 26," Mr. Evans said. "A colleague from his office. They've been involved for at least three years."
"Where does she live?"
"The Veridian Apartments. Rents a one-bedroom."
I nodded, putting the photos away.
"There's also this," he said, handing me a USB drive. "Surveillance footage. Fifteen separate occasions of them entering and leaving a hotel together."
I took the drive.
"I also pulled their call logs," he said, producing a printout. "238 calls. At least three a day. The longest was over two hours."
I looked at the dense list of dates and durations.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure," he said, standing. "Is this enough, Ms. Hale?"
"It's more than enough."
When I got home, Kevin wasn't there.
I plugged the USB drive into my laptop. The hotel footage was crystal clear. Kevin and Tina, holding hands, checking in at night, leaving together in the morning.
I took screenshots.
My phone buzzed. A text from Kevin: Company dinner tonight. Won't be home.
I didn't reply.
I opened his cloud storage and found a hidden folder. The password was Tina's birthday. I tried it. It opened.
It was full of pictures of the two of them. At the beach, at an amusement park, in restaurants. In one photo, Tina was wearing a white sundress, smiling beautifully for the camera. The caption read, "My gorgeous wife."
The date stamp was our third wedding anniversary. The day I waited up for him to celebrate, and he told me he was stuck at work.
I closed the album and took a deep breath.
My phone rang again. This time, it was Tina.
"Hello?"
"Grace, we need to meet."
"Fine."
"Tomorrow, three p.m., outside The Veridian."
"Okay."
I hung up.
A message from Sarah popped up: You okay, hon?
I'm fine.
Want me to come with you?
No, I've got this.
I stood up and walked to the window. A light rain was falling, stretching the reflections of the streetlights on the wet pavement. I remembered the day Kevin proposed, five years ago. It had been raining then, too.
"Grace," he had said, "marry me. I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy."
And I believed him.

3.
The next afternoon, I arrived at The Veridian on time.
Tina was already waiting for me. She wore a loose-fitting maternity dress, her baby bump now noticeable.
"Grace," she said with a faint smile.
"Hello."
"Let's go somewhere to talk."
We found a quiet caf nearby and took a table by the window.
"I'm three months pregnant," she began. "Kevin told me he wants a divorce."
"I know."
"About the house..." she paused. "Kevin said, could you..."
"No," I cut her off.
She blinked, surprised.
"The down payment was $200,000. My money," I said, looking her straight in the eye. "The mortgage payments for the past five years? I've paid 0-050,000 of that."
"But the deed is in both of your names, isn't it?"
"I have a prenup. The deed is in my name only."
The color drained from Tina's face. "Then Kevin..."
"He didn't contribute a single cent."
"That's impossible!" Her voice rose. "The money Kevin has been giving me all these yearshe earned that himself!"
I laughed.
"Sixty-seven transfers, totaling eighty thousand dollars." I pulled out my phone and opened my banking app. "See for yourself."
I handed her the phone.
Her face grew paler as she scrolled through the list of transactions.
"His annual salary is forty-eight thousand dollars," I said calmly. "Over five years, he's grossed two hundred and forty thousand. He sent you eighty thousand of it."
"Then where did the rest of his money go?"
"Ask him."
Tina handed back my phone, speechless.
"Is there anything else?" I asked.
"Grace, the baby is innocent," she pleaded. "Can't you just..."
"No." I stood up. "The house is mine. It has nothing to do with you."
I turned and walked out of the caf.
As I left, I heard her voice behind me. "Grace, you'll regret this!"
I didn't look back.
When I got home, Kevin was waiting in the living room.
"Tina called me," he said. "Why won't you give up the house?"
"Because it's my house."
"But we're married!"
"Did you remember we were married when you were sleeping with her?"
He fell silent.
I went into the bedroom and came back with the USB drive.
"What's that?" he asked.
"The surveillance footage of you and Tina at the hotel." I placed it on the coffee table. "Fifteen times. I have the dates and locations."
His face went white.
"And this," I said, producing the call logs. "Two hundred and thirty-eight calls. At least three a day."
"And the photos. Forty-seven of them," I continued. "At the beach, the amusement park, the restaurant."
"And the text messages. And the hidden folder in your cloud storage. The password is Tina's birthday."
Kevin collapsed onto the sofa as if his legs had given out.
"Grace, I'm sorry," he said, his voice trembling. "I was wrong. I was so wrong."
"I know you were," I said. "That's why we're getting a divorce."
"But Tina's pregnant..."
"That's your problem."
"Grace!" he shot up from the sofa. "You can't be so heartless!"
I looked at him, my voice devoid of emotion. "You transferred eighty thousand dollars to her over three years. The most expensive thing you've bought for me in five years of marriage was a three-hundred-dollar wedding ring."
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"Now tell me," I said. "Who's the heartless one?"

4.
For the next few days, Kevin was relentless.
"Grace, I swear, I know I messed up."
"Grace, I'll break up with Tina, okay?"
"Grace, we don't have to have the baby, just please don't divorce me."
I ignored him completely and focused on preparing the divorce papers.
My lawyer confirmed it. Because of the prenup, the house was mine. And because of his infidelity, I was entitled to damages.
"No damages," I told her. "I just want the house. He can have everything else."
"Are you sure, Ms. Hale?" my lawyer asked, surprised. "You could easily get a significant settlement for emotional distress."
"I'm sure," I said, shaking my head. "I just want this to be over quickly."
"Understood. I'll draw up the agreement."
That evening, Kevin tried again.
"Grace, are you really going through with this?"
"Yes."
"Then what about Tina and the baby?"
"You figure it out."
"But I don't have any money!" he said, his voice rising in panic. "If I had the house, I could sell it, use the money to support the child..."
"You are not getting the house."
"Why not?"
I looked at him as if he were a stranger. "Because the two-hundred-thousand-dollar down payment was mine. The one hundred and fifty thousand in mortgage payments were mine. That's three hundred and fifty thousand dollars of my money."
"But I'm your husband!"
"Ex-husband," I corrected him. "We're going to City Hall tomorrow."
"I'm not going!"
"Then I'll sue." I held up my phone. "I have all the evidence I need. The court will grant the divorce."
Kevin sank back onto the sofa and said nothing for a long time.
"Grace, I really am sorry," he said, and then he started to cry. "I don't know what got into me. I made a terrible mistake."
I watched him weep and felt absolutely nothing.
Five years ago, I was in the hospital for a minor surgery. He said he was too busy at work to visit. I later found out he was with Tina, celebrating her birthday.
Three years ago, my father was seriously ill. I asked him for a loan of five thousand dollars. He said he was broke. But his bank records show he transferred three thousand to Tina that same month.
Two years ago, on our third wedding anniversary, I cooked a special dinner and waited until midnight. He never came home. He said he was working late. The photos in his cloud storage show him and Tina at the beach that day.
"Kevin," I said, my voice flat. "I gave you chances."
He looked up at me, his face streaked with tears.
"Three years ago, you came home late, and your shirt smelled of another woman's perfume. I asked you about it. You said you must have brushed against someone on the subway."
"Two years ago, your credit card statement showed a thirty-five-hundred-dollar charge for a necklace. I asked you about it. You said it was a gift for my mother."
"Last year, I saw the texts from 'T.' I asked you who that was. You said it was just an older colleague from work who was helping you with some leads."
"And I believed you. Every time."
Kevin lowered his head in shame.
"But you sent her eighty thousand dollars," I said, standing up. "And all you ever gave me was a three-hundred-dollar ring."
I walked toward the bedroom.
"Tomorrow, nine a.m. City Hall."
I closed the door behind me.
My phone buzzed. A text from Sarah: What did the lawyer say?
It's happening tomorrow.
And the house?
It's mine.
FUCK YES.
I lay on my bed and thought about the woman I was five years ago. I was 27, newly promoted, making good money. Kevin was 29, a salesman making a fraction of my salary. When he proposed, I hesitated.
But he told me, "Grace, I know I don't make much now, but I'll work hard. I'll be good to you."
And I believed him.
Turns out he did work hard. He worked hard to make money for his mistress.

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