The Stolen Vacation

The call from the travel agency came out of nowhere. They said my parents were raising hell after their round-the-world cruise, demanding a refund and even assaulting an employee. They wanted to know what I was going to do about it.
But that was impossible. At that very moment, my mother was helping my father hobble out of his hospital room, asking me if the discharge papers were ready.
They hadn't gone on any trip. My dad had broken his leg right before they were supposed to leave.
I hung up and turned to my husband, the one I’d sent to the agency to postpone the trip. “Craig,” I demanded, “what is going on?”
He looked at me, his eyes wide with a practiced shock.
“Honey, I canceled their trip, remember? Your dad’s hospital bills were piling up. Where were we going to get the money for a world cruise after all that?”
A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. I didn’t even bother arguing with him. I just dialed my brother-in-law, Liam—the owner of the travel agency.
“Liam, it’s Claire,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Could you do me a favor? I need you to check whose parents enjoyed the luxury cruise you booked for Mom and Dad. I think I have a homewrecker to find.”
My parents had worked themselves to the bone their entire lives and never had a real vacation. When Liam, who runs Horizon Travel, found out, he gifted them a top-of-the-line, all-expenses-paid world cruise package.
When my husband, Craig, first heard about it, he’d been less than thrilled.
“A trip like that costs a fortune,” he’d complained. “It’s not that I can’t afford it, it’s just… unnecessary.”
His words made my parents hesitate, but I finally convinced them. Then the accident happened, and the trip was off.
But now, Horizon Travel was telling me my parents had just returned from their 120-day journey. And the agent on the phone was adamant; they had the right number. Something was deeply wrong. I had to go down to the agency myself.
It was a weekday, so I expected it to be quiet, but the lobby was buzzing with a loud argument. I was too focused on getting answers to pay much attention. I walked straight to the front desk.
“Hi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You called me a few hours ago? About my parents demanding a refund and injuring an employee?”
The receptionist hesitated. “Oh, yes. There is an elderly couple causing a scene. But their daughter, a Miss Vance, is already here. She just went into the manager’s office.”
“Miss Vance?” I stared at her, bewildered. “Are you sure?”
She nodded toward the two people still yelling near the lounge area. “That’s what they said. They confirmed she’s their daughter. There’s no mistake.”
My brow furrowed, anger starting to simmer beneath my skin. “And the personal information they provided matched the original booking exactly?”
The receptionist confirmed it did. She even pulled up a short promotional video from the day of departure. “Miss Vance’s husband even dropped the couple off himself and confirmed the itinerary with us.”
The moment the video played, my blood ran cold. The man on the screen, smiling and waving as the elderly couple boarded, was my husband, Craig.
The rage that flooded my veins was hot and sharp. He had another wife. And he’d let her parents steal the trip of a lifetime that Liam had arranged for mine.
I was going to find out exactly how Craig planned to explain this.
I pulled out my phone, but before I could dial, I saw a familiar figure approaching the arguing couple. She was dressed to the nines in designer clothes, a luxury handbag swinging from her arm.
“Mom, Dad, it’s all sorted,” she said sweetly. “I spoke with the manager. You’ll get your refund.”
It was Vanessa. Craig’s so-called “best friend.”
I marched right up to her. “Vanessa,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “how did you manage to get your parents on a cruise under my parents’ names?”
She didn’t even flinch. “Claire? What are you doing here? Thinking of sending your parents on a trip, too?”
A cruel smile stretched across my face. “Cut the crap. I want to know why my parents’ cruise was hijacked by yours.” I snatched the printed photos from the receptionist’s desk—stills from the departure video—and threw them at her. “And since when are they my husband’s in-laws?”
My voice was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the lobby.
Vanessa’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of haughty indignation. “Claire, how dare you make such baseless accusations? My husband booked this trip for my parents. It was a surprise.” She scoffed. “The most expensive package they offer. A price tag you could never afford.”
She leaned in, her voice a theatrical whisper. “I told you how much my husband loves me. No matter how desperately you chase after him, you can’t make him yours.”
The onlookers started murmuring, their eyes burning into me with contempt.
“So she’s a psycho mistress trying to break up a marriage.”
“Look at what she’s wearing versus the wife. As if she could afford a two-hundred-thousand-dollar cruise. So shameless.”
I was just in sweats and a t-shirt, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t afford it. Vanessa, on the other hand, looked the part, but I knew for a fact she couldn’t even afford the bag she was carrying.
Ignoring the whispers, I fixed my glare on her. “I think you’re the one who’s desperate to turn someone else’s husband into her own.”
I turned back to the receptionist. “Did you actually verify their identities before they departed?”
The woman was clearly annoyed. “Of course we did. Our manager handled it personally.” She pointed to a woman just coming down the stairs. “That’s her right there.”
I looked over and almost laughed. The manager was one of Vanessa’s closest friends. No wonder she was so brazen.
My tone sharpened. “As I recall, a trip like this has multiple identity checkpoints. Your manager may have waved them through at the start, but what about the tour guides? The cruise staff? Did no one notice the names didn't match the passports?”
The receptionist shifted uncomfortably. “Well, Mr. Cole did call ahead to inform us that his in-laws had recently changed their names and their official documents hadn’t been updated yet…”
“So you did know the information didn’t match,” I cut her off, my voice rising with fury. “And you chose to look the other way. Is that it? Does anyone at this company do their job responsibly?”
Vanessa shoved me hard. “Give it up, Claire. You’re just pissed you can’t afford a trip like this for your own parents, so you’re making a scene.”
Her eyes gleamed with triumph as she pulled out her phone. “You know what? I’ll call my husband right now and let him put you in your place.”
The contact name read ‘My Husband.’ It was Craig’s number. She put him on speakerphone, and the second he answered, she started wailing.
“Craig, baby! This crazy woman, Claire, is attacking me! She’s here at the travel agency saying our parents stole the trip from hers, and she’s telling everyone that you’re her husband, not mine!”
Craig’s voice erupted from the phone, laced with fury. “What? How am I not your husband? Don’t worry, babe! I’m on my way. I’ll be right there to back you up!”
I couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t defending me—the wife who had stood by him, scrimped and saved with him for years while he built his business from nothing. He was defending her—the woman who had abandoned him the second she thought he was going bankrupt.
Vanessa lifted her chin, a smirk playing on her lips. “Did you hear that, Claire? My husband is coming. You should probably leave now before you humiliate yourself even more.”
Her arrogance was infuriating.
Craig arrived in record time, storming into the lobby like a hurricane. He didn't hesitate. He marched straight to me and slapped me across the face, the sound echoing in the silent room. Then he grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the wall.
“Claire! How dare you bully Vanessa!” he roared. “Now get the hell out of here!”
My head exploded with pain, and black spots danced in my vision.
Vanessa practically leaped into Craig’s arms, planting a loud, wet kiss on his mouth. “You’re the best, honey! She obviously came here just to harass me and my parents. She’s completely unhinged.”
Craig wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back deeply.
The sight sent a wave of pure, unadulterated rage through me. “Craig Cole! I am going to destroy you!”
He finally pulled away from Vanessa, his eyes, when they met mine, filled with nothing but irritation. “Don’t push me, Claire. I mean it.” He gestured wildly between us. “I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m married! Stop stalking me! I can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to harass my wife and her parents!”
Leaning against the wall for support, the world spinning around me, I stared at the man in front of me as if he were a total stranger. This was the man who had promised to love me forever. Now he was kissing another woman in front of me and attacking me for her.
The memories came flooding back, little puzzle pieces clicking into place. He had been cheating on me all along. Their “friendship” was a lie. When Vanessa left him, he’d been a wreck for months. And ever since she came back, he was suddenly working late every night, even forgetting our anniversary.
I locked my eyes on his. “Craig,” I said, my voice low and trembling with fury, “I’m giving you one last chance. Tell me. Who. Is. Your. Wife.”
A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a sneer. “Stop trying to cause trouble, Claire! You’re just trying to make my wife and her family doubt me! You’re nothing but a pathetic gold digger who won’t leave me alone now that I have money.” He wrapped a protective arm around Vanessa. “But I love my wife. And I will never, ever divorce her to marry a psycho like you.”
The crowd’s whispers grew louder, their judgment like daggers.
“What a leech. The poor guy.”
“She’s pure evil, trying to drive a wedge between a happy family right in front of them.”
For Vanessa, he would twist reality, turn me into a villain, and leave me to be devoured by strangers.
But I wasn’t helpless.
My voice was cold and steady. “Craig and I are the ones who are married.”
I reached into my bag for our marriage certificate, but Vanessa was faster. She triumphantly produced a certificate of her own.
“Does this not count as being a real wife?” she sneered.
I froze, staring at the document, at their smiling faces. The world tilted on its axis. Vanessa snatched my certificate out of my hand before I could even process it.
“Wow, Claire,” she said, her voice dripping with mock pity. “You’re so desperate to steal my husband, you even got a fake certificate made!” She opened it, her eyes scanning the paper with disdain. “But the official seal isn’t even right. It’s so crude.”
Looking closer, I saw she was right. The embossed seal was a cheap, blurry imitation. My hand started to shake. I remembered that day at the courthouse. Just as the clerk was about to hand us the certificate, Craig had insisted I run back to the car to get something he’d forgotten. By the time I returned, he was waiting outside with the certificate, telling me it was all done.
Vanessa’s laughter was a cruel, sharp sound. She threw the fake document in my face. “There. Now do you see who his wife is? I suggest you get a little self-respect and get the hell out of our lives.”
She couldn’t wait to have him all to herself.
Craig squeezed Vanessa’s hand. The matching wedding bands on their fingers seared into my brain. He looked at me, then turned to the manager, his voice filled with disgust. “You need to get her out of here before she completely ruins your company’s reputation with her lies.”
The crowd chimed in. “Yeah, get the crazy woman out! For a second there, I almost believed the travel agency was at fault.”
The manager, being Vanessa’s friend, was more than happy to oblige. “Security!” she yelled. “Get this psycho out of my lobby!”
Two guards approached. Hearing the word “psycho,” they came prepared, one brandishing a stun baton. Before I could even react, a jolt of electricity shot through me, and my body convulsed. They pinned me to the floor, and once they were sure I was subdued, they started dragging me out.
As they hauled me past her, Vanessa quietly circled behind me and kicked me squarely in the lower back. I stumbled forward, crashing into a luggage rack stacked high for a tour group.
A cascade of suitcases rained down on me.
“Oops, sorry, Claire,” Vanessa chirped, a malicious glint in her eyes. “I saw you reaching for something. I was just worried you were going for a weapon.”
Craig pulled her back. “Why are you apologizing? Don’t let a lunatic like her hurt you.”
I couldn’t even speak. The weight of the luggage crushed me, and a sharp, searing pain shot through my arm. Blood trickled down my forehead. I was too weak to even push the bags off me.
The crowd just stood there, watching. No one moved to help.
Craig just frowned, a look of pure disgust on his face. He looked almost… disappointed that the suitcases hadn’t finished the job.
In that moment, any lingering love I had for him died.

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