Inside were photographs, bank statements, and a marriage certificate.
My stomach dropped.
The woman standing across from me wasn’t my husband’s ex-girlfriend.
She was his legal wife.
And according to the certificate…
they had never divorced.
I looked at him.
“You told me your first wife died.”
He lowered his eyes.
The woman laughed bitterly.
“That’s what he told everyone.”
But the worst part was still inside the envelope.
One bank statement showed monthly transfers from our joint account to an unfamiliar company.
For twelve years.
Nearly $600,000 had disappeared.
I shouted:
“Where did our money go?”
The little boy suddenly said:
“Mom… tell her about the house.”
My husband slammed his hand onto the table.
“Enough!”
Everyone turned.
The woman slowly pulled out one final photograph.
It showed my husband standing in front of a huge mansion…
with another woman beside him.
And three children.
I stared at the picture.
“Who are THEY?”
She looked me straight in the eyes.
Then she said the sentence that destroyed everything I thought I knew:
“You’re not wife number two.”
She paused.
“You’re wife number three.”
