One Bill, Two Divorces

Lydia Leighton—my mother-in-law—and I had been grinding nonstop on an overseas project. We got back home two weeks early.

Before we could share the news, her phone rang. The renovation company.

"Mrs. Howe, the house is done per your request. But your card balance isn't enough. When do you want to settle the rest?"

I frowned. We'd been buried in work overseas. When did she even renovate a house?

A long invoice popped up on her phone. Lydia's face went cold. She dialed her husband.

"George, which 'Mrs. Howe' is renovating a house? You're cheating on me?!"

He sounded panicked. "How could I? Babe, I swear I only love you. Wait for me—I'm coming back to explain!"

Lydia hung up and dragged me to the house.

We barely hit the front gate before the security system locked us out.

I checked the address, confused, then tried again—alarm blaring.

A guard rushed over, eyeing us like trash. "Who are you? Private luxury neighborhood. No randoms. Leave."

Lydia frowned. "This is my house. Why can't we get in? You know George Howe? He's my husband."

An elegant middle-aged woman walked up with a younger one.

The older woman jabbed a finger at Lydia. "You've got nerve, dropping my husband's name. I've seen your type. The second they spot a successful man, they try every trick. Get lost, or I won't be nice."

I froze. 'Did George really cheat?'

Lydia shot her a glare. "I've been married to George for thirty years. When exactly did he become your husband?"

The woman didn't even blink. She stepped up and slapped Lydia—hard.

"You still talking nonsense? Everyone here knows George is mine—Peggy Roche. Who do you think you are? Came to snag a rich man, huh? And you dragged your daughter along? What, planning to pin a kid on my husband? Shameless."

Lydia had never been hit in her life. Her face flushed, fury snapping tight.

I pulled Lydia behind me. "What gives you the right to hit her? I'm Johnny Howe's wife. George is his dad, and she's his mom. So who are you?"

Before Peggy could answer, the younger woman snapped. She lunged, nails flying, clawing at my face.

"How dare you say you're Johnny's wife! He's marrying me—I'm his fiancée. Try it again and I'll beat you to death!"

By the time Lydia yanked her off, my face was scratched up.

I was shaking. 'What the hell is this? Who are these psychos?'

Peggy rushed to calm her daughter, then spun on us. "You still bullying my kid? Apologize—now. Say one word and I'll call my husband. He'll make your lives hell!"

The noise pulled in more neighbors. They stared, whispering, judging.

"An old side chick bringing a younger one to trap men. What a show."

"First time I've seen a mom and daughter target the same family. Whole crew of homewreckers."

"Shameless. Strip them right here and teach them a lesson. Not like they've got any dignity left."

Their words hit like knives.

No one listened. I pulled out my phone to call my husband, Johnny—but Peggy snatched it and smashed it on the ground.

She sneered. "Calling for backup? You don't explain this today, neither of you leaves."

Right then, the head of security—Mr. Duran—rushed over with his team.

Before I left the country, I used to see him here all the time. He had to recognize me.

"I've got a witness!"