I Sold My House for My Husband's Cure He Used the Money to Raise a Baby With My Best Friend
My world had shrunk to the size of his hospital bed. Until one afternoon, when the weight of it all finally crushed me. I ducked into a concrete stairwell, the heavy fire door sighing shut behind me, and let the sobs I’d been swallowing for weeks rack my body.
That’s when I heard their voices from the landing below. His voice, and the voice of another woman.
“Are you sure that bitch has no idea you’re faking it?” the woman’s voice was a low, conspiratorial murmur. “She watches you like a warden. We can’t even get a minute alone. The baby’s starting to miss his daddy, you know.”
And then, his voice. My husband’s voice. The one that whispered my name in the dark. “Relax. She’s an idiot. You could walk in there, tell her to her face this is all an act, and she wouldn’t believe you.” A low chuckle. “Right now, she’s probably calling her mom, getting ready to sell their house to raise the money for me. The second that three hundred grand hits our account, I’m divorcing her. Then it’s just you, me, and the baby. You know you’re the only one for me. Just hang in there a little longer.”
My nails dug so deep into my palms that I should have bled, but I felt nothing.
When I walked back into the room, I arranged my face into a mask of weary devotion and played my part.
On the day of the surgery, however, he was the one on his knees, weeping in front of me.
1
I was floating in a fog of exhaustion when I got back to the room. Mark wasn’t there. I stood blinking in the pale afternoon light until the door clicked open and he walked in.
He immediately wrapped his arms around me, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. His voice was thick with a carefully crafted sympathy.
“Anna, sweetheart. I can’t stand seeing you like this. So run down. I know you’re trying to pull the money together, but you can’t destroy yourself doing it. Maybe we should just hire a private nurse? You’ve lost so much weight this week.”
I said nothing, keeping my head bowed so he couldn’t see the hollowness in my eyes.
He took my silence as an invitation, pulling me tighter against his thin hospital gown. As if he couldn't bear the thought of losing me.
If I hadn’t heard that conversation with my own ears, I would have gone to my grave believing this man, my husband of five years, was my devoted partner. The depth of his deceit was a canyon at my feet.
I shifted, avoiding another kiss, and buried my face in his chest. “It’s my duty,” I murmured into the fabric. “You’re my husband. You worked so hard for us, for our home, for five years. That’s why you got sick. I’d sell the shirt off my back to make you well.”
I pulled back just enough to look at him, my eyes shimmering. “We’re still short on the surgery fee, so a nurse is out of the question. Every penny counts. I don’t mind being tired… I just don’t want to have any regrets. If something were to happen to you…”
Two perfectly formed, treacherous tears slid down my cheeks.
It worked. His face crumpled with what looked like pain. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it,” he whispered, crushing me to him again. “Having a wife like you… God won’t be cruel to us. We have so many good years left. After I get better, we’ll have a baby. Everything is going to be okay.”
We were tangled in this pathetic embrace when the door swung open again. It was Jess, clipboard in hand.
“Whoa, guys, get a room! Some of us are trying to work here,” she teased, a broad smile on her face. “My shift is hard enough without having to watch all this PDA. Save it for when he’s discharged.”
Jess is my best friend. My maid of honor. She is also Mark’s attending physician.
From the day he was admitted, Jess had used her position to ensure he got the best of everything, all for my sake. She’d even pulled strings, calling in a favor with the top surgeon in the state to have him lead the operation.
Mark’s cheeks flushed a little, and he loosened his grip. I saw it then—a flicker of a glance between them. Swift, silent, and full of meaning. I pretended not to notice, stepping away to pour them both a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand.
Jess did her routine checks, murmuring that Mark’s condition was stable, but she never offered specifics about his labs or his prognosis. Odd, for a doctor who was also my best friend.
I’d spent hours online, poring over medical journals and patient forums. The symptoms of uremia—the swelling, the nausea, the constant fatigue—Mark had none of them.
A chill snaked up my spine.
One second Jess was saying he was stable, and the next she was sighing dramatically, her face a mask of concern. “You two have been through so much to get here. It’s just so unfair…” She looked at me, her eyes soft with pity. “How’s the fundraising going? You know the hospital has its policies, I can’t bend the rules too much. But if you’re short, just tell me. I’ll figure something out.”
A slow smile spread across Mark’s face. He reached for my hand, his grip proprietary. “Don’t you worry, Jess. I have the best wife in the world. She’ll get the money for me.” He squeezed my hand, turning his gaze on me. “Right, honey?”
I felt their eyes on me, twin lasers of inquiry.
I smiled back, a bright, brittle thing. “Of course. I’ve already got a realtor working on selling the condo. It should be quick.” I added another detail for good measure. “And my mom managed to borrow from some relatives. She has fifty thousand for us.”
The relief that washed over both their faces was instantaneous and profound.
2
“Oh, that’s fantastic news,” Jess breathed out. “That’s great. The surgery is in three days, so we need to move fast. Everything else is in place. We’re just waiting on you.”
If this were yesterday, I would have thought she was sharing my burden, my best friend worried sick for me. We’d been like sisters since kindergarten.
But now, having heard the truth, I understood. The “everything else” she was talking about wasn’t medical preparation. It was their plan.
Watching them chat, so casual and relaxed, with no trace of the anxiety that should precede a life-or-death operation, I saw my opening.
“Jess,” I began, my voice wavering just enough. “I’ll have to be gone for most of the next two days, dealing with the closing paperwork for the condo. Mark… could you please keep an extra eye on him? You know I can’t afford a private nurse, and I don’t know anyone else here.”
Before the words were fully out of my mouth, she was nodding eagerly. Her eyes flashed with a joy she couldn't quite conceal.
“Of course, Anna, don’t even worry about it. Mark is your husband, which makes him my brother-in-law. I’ll check on him every half hour. And I’ll tell the floor nurses to be extra attentive. You go do what you have to do. Call me anytime if you need anything.”
I feigned overwhelming gratitude, bowing my head and thanking her profusely. Then I turned and walked out of the room.
I didn’t go far. I slipped into the shadows of a recessed doorway down the hall.
Ten minutes later, I crept back, my sneakers silent on the linoleum. As I neared the door, I heard it. The low, unmistakable sounds of desperate, hurried passion.
“That idiot really bought it,” Mark’s voice, rough with arousal. “We were just complaining about not having time alone, and she walks right out. It’s like the universe is on our side.”
“Mmm, Jess, I’ve missed you so much… I’m dying for you. We could… right here in the hospital…”
“Mark, you’re awful,” she giggled, but there was no protest in her tone. “Gently, okay? Don’t let a nurse walk in. And be careful of the baby… he can’t take too much of a rough ride.”
The wet, sloppy sounds of their mouths meeting echoed through the thin wood of the door. My own body threatened to fold.
I fled, my retreat a clumsy, stumbling disaster. I made my way to the nurses' station.
I found the one Jess was always complaining about, a stern, older woman named Brenda who, I now suspected, was probably just a person of integrity.
Under the guise of a worried wife, I asked her if she could pay special attention to my husband while I was away. I told her I had a bad feeling.
She agreed immediately. But when I tried to slip her a folded hundred-dollar bill, she pushed my hand away gently. “Not necessary, dear. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
I got her number and, armed with a copy of Mark’s medical file that I’d requested earlier, I left the hospital.
Their plan was meticulous. But they’d missed one crucial detail.
Mark wasn’t faking his illness.
He was genuinely sick.
Just not with kidney failure.
It was stage four liver cancer.
I’d been hiding the truth from him, terrified the diagnosis would shatter what little hope he had left. My plan had been to tell the lead surgeon right before the procedure, to have them re-evaluate everything.
But after what I’d seen today, I’d decided on a different course of action.
I was going to help him on his way.
I called the realtor and told her to accept the first lowball cash offer we received. With the power of attorney Mark had signed over to me, his signature wasn’t needed. I signed the contract on the spot.
As soon as the wire transfer cleared, I moved every last cent from our joint accounts, plus the money from the sale, into my mother’s name under the designation of “filial support.”
Her phone showed a balance of over three hundred thousand dollars. A moment later, she called me, her voice frantic.
“Anna, honey, was this a mistake? Mark has his surgery coming up! Why did you send all this money to me?”
“I’m sending it back right now, you need to pay the hospital. His condition… you can’t delay this!”
My mother is a good woman. Kind, trusting, and completely fooled by Mark for the last five years.
I told her everything. The affair. The fake illness. The plan to fleece me and my family.
There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. Finally, she sighed, a sound brittle with disappointment. “That boy… I never would have… well. What you kids do is your own business.” Her voice firmed up. “You leave the money with me. It’s safe here. When you’ve dealt with the divorce, I’ll transfer it right back to you.”
She spent another ten minutes calming me down before we hung up. I looked up at the sky. It was a brilliant, cloudless blue, but all I could feel was a suffocating gloom.
This marriage was over.
3
I called my lawyer and had him draw up divorce papers. With no shared assets left, the division was simple.
By the time I was done, night had fallen. A stream of messages had come in from Brenda, the nurse. Jess had been in Mark’s room almost constantly. They were keeping their voices low. A few times when Brenda had entered to check his vitals, they’d both jumped, looking flustered.
I smiled grimly and texted her my thanks.
For the next two days, with me absent, they grew bolder. Jess would stroll into his room, her white doctor’s coat barely concealing a black lace teddy. She’d stay for hours. Once, Brenda noted, she came out looking flushed, her legs unsteady.
The nurse saw what was happening. She texted me several times, gently suggesting I should come back to the hospital.
I politely declined each time. It wasn’t time to show my hand.
I wasn’t idle. I hired a private investigator to dig up every wire transfer, every gift, every hotel stay Mark had ever paid for on Jess’s behalf. Evidence for the lawsuit to come.
On the morning of the surgery, the hospital’s finance department noted the bill was still unpaid.
That’s when Mark’s composure finally cracked. My phone blew up.
“Anna, where are you? The surgery is this afternoon. Did you get the money?”
“Why aren’t you answering? Is there a problem with the sale? Don’t try to handle it all alone, I’m here for you. If it doesn’t work out, then we just forget the surgery. My life isn’t worth you suffering like this.”
“When I’m gone, find a good man and remarry. I won’t blame you.”
I stared at the screen, a fresh wave of cold fury washing over me. A masterclass in manipulation. This wasn’t a man preparing for his death; this was a con artist afraid his mark was about to walk away.
Jess was less composed. She called, again and again. Each time with a new, frantic story. Mark was coughing up blood. Mark had slipped into a coma. The hospital had issued three separate critical condition alerts, all of which she had heroically intercepted on my behalf.
I answered the last call, my voice calm. “I’m on my way.”
I heard her exhale in relief. And just before she hung up, I heard Mark’s triumphant laugh in the background.
Laugh all you want, I thought. After today, you won’t have the strength to cry.
The private investigator had found more than just financial records. He’d delivered an unexpected little bonus.
When I arrived at the hospital, Mark’s mother was already there, holding court with a flock of relatives outside his room. The moment they saw me, they swarmed.
“Anna, you poor thing, you’ve been through so much,” his mother gushed, grabbing my hands. “I only just heard Mark was in the hospital! Thank you, thank you for not abandoning him. Having a daughter-in-law like you is the greatest blessing our family could ask for…”
Jess pushed through the crowd, her face a perfect portrait of anxious urgency. “You’re finally here! The doctors are saying if we wait any longer, it’ll be too late! Thank god you made it. Go pay the fee, quickly! I’ll get the surgical team prepped right now!”
Mark’s mother shot Jess a subtle glance. When she turned back to me, her eyes were instantly red-rimmed and brimming with tears. She grabbed my arm and began pulling me toward the billing office. “Let’s go, hurry. Mark is waiting.”
The look that passed between her and Jess confirmed it. She was in on it, too. Of course. It explained why she’d been conveniently absent until the very day the money was due. I always thought Mark was just trying to spare her the worry. Now I saw it clearly. The three of them were a pack of wolves, and my mother and I were the prey they intended to devour.
Surrounded by the expectant faces of his family, I stopped in my tracks.
I pulled my arm free and held up my empty hands.
“What surgery fee?” I said, my voice clear and steady. “I couldn’t get it. I don’t have any money.”
4
His mother’s face transformed. The grief vanished, replaced by sheer disbelief. “What?” her voice screeched, echoing down the sterile corridor. “You don’t have any money? Anna, what kind of joke is this?”
“You’ve been gone for three days selling the condo! My son gave you power of attorney! We paid over two hundred thousand for that place, how can you have no money?”
The relatives, sensing a shift, closed in.
“That’s right, that condo was in the city’s hottest neighborhood! Even if you didn’t get two hundred, you must have gotten one-eighty, one-ninety! How can you say you have nothing?”
“He’s your husband, Anna! What are you hiding from him? He needs that money to live!”
“Don’t forget the fifty thousand dollars your family gave as a wedding gift! Even if the condo sale fell through, you should have that!”
The mention of the wedding gift hardened my expression. “A gift that was supposed to be for our future, you mean? The gift he ‘borrowed’ fifteen thousand from a month after we were married because he said his mom was sick? That, plus his expenses these past few weeks, is long gone.”
“My family paid the lion’s share of the down payment on that condo. What are you all implying? That I’m lying?” I let my voice rise, matching their outrage. “I told you, there’s no money! If you can’t pay for the surgery, then it doesn’t happen. Maybe it’s just his fate to die!”
The words were barely out of my mouth before his mother lunged, the flat of her hand cracking against my cheek. “You bitch! How dare you say that? It’s a son’s duty to care for his mother!”
“Are you blaming me for getting sick? Or blaming him for helping me? For a married couple, you certainly keep close track of your money! Fine, I’ll write you an IOU! I’ll pay you back!” she shrieked. “Now stop this nonsense! My son is dying!”
My cheek stung, a hot bloom of pain, but my heart felt like a block of ice. “Nonsense? Think whatever you want. I told you, I don’t have the money. I just came today to say my goodbyes.”
Her eyes darted around, and then she did something theatrical. She threw herself onto the floor, slapping her thighs and wailing at the ceiling. “Oh, the injustice! God in heaven, everyone come and see! My daughter-in-law is letting my son die! She won’t pay for his surgery! She’s just going to watch him die!”
“My poor family! How did we end up with such a venomous woman! Somebody, please, tell me what’s right! My son is on his deathbed and she’s murdering him!”
“If my son dies, I’ll die with him! What has this world come to? Once money is in a wife’s pocket, you can’t get it back! Everyone look! Look at this heartless monster!”
Her performance was flawless. Passersby stopped to stare. Hearing her version of events, they turned on me, their faces etched with disapproval.
“Young lady, how can you be so obsessed with money? That’s your husband in there! You can’t buy health! You’ll regret this for the rest of your life!”
“You look like such a nice girl, but your heart is so ugly. Is a surgery fee really more important than a human life? God is watching. You have to live with your conscience!”
“Exactly! Look at your poor mother-in-law, she’s a wreck! Do you want her to have a heart attack right here in the hospital? We just heard them say it! You can save his life by selling your place. We don’t have that kind of money, but you do! To have the money and not use it… you’re no better than an animal!”
One of the aunts whispered something in the mother’s ear. In a flash, she was on her feet, launching herself at me and kicking me hard in the shin. “You liar! You already sold the condo! Where is the money? Half of that belongs to my son! You have no right to take it all!”
Her words were gasoline on the fire. The crowd’s murmurs turned into a roar of condemnation.
Through it all, my expression remained eerily calm. “The money? I wired it to my mother. My cousin is getting married and needs a down payment for a house, so I loaned it to him. In any case, I don’t have it.”
Mark’s mother was trembling with rage, her finger jabbing at my face. “She’s lying! Only an idiot would loan that kind of money to a cousin! Hold her down! The money has to be on her!”
Rough hands grabbed my arms and legs, pinning me to the floor. His mother began frantically patting me down, her hands like spiders all over my body. She found my debit card in my pocket.
She thrust it at a billing clerk who had come to see what the commotion was about. “Try this!”
The clerk swiped it. Once. Twice. The machine beeped. Insufficient funds.
In an instant, I was drowning in a sea of insults. The dark lenses of cell phone cameras were pointed at my face, broadcasting my humiliation to the world.
Jess finally arrived, pushing through the crowd. She saw the scene and her eyes went wide with alarm. She knelt beside me, her voice a stage-whisper of urgent persuasion.
“Anna, Mark is fading. You told me you were selling the condo these past three days. You haven’t spoken to your cousin in two years, you wouldn’t lend him money. Where is it? Are you really going to stand by and watch Mark die?”
Before I could even get to my feet, a nurse rushed over, her face pale. “It’s bad! Mr. Evans also has late-stage liver cancer! The surgeons just discovered it during the pre-op scan! The original surgical plan is useless!”
Jess’s face didn’t change. The nurse, seeing her confusion, added pointedly,
“This time, for real.”
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