When my friend, Lauren, asked me to watch her house while she was away, I didn’t expect to find her husband cheating and scheming to steal her home. I told her to save her, but she blamed me, showing me the cost of truth.
Lauren and I were best friends since college, bonded by late-night chats and shared struggles. Her husband, Mike, always felt shady—his slick grin seemed fake. I kept quiet, but my gut screamed warning. One warm afternoon, we sat in her garden, her parrot, Rio, chirping nearby. Lauren sipped iced tea, then said, “I’m off to Denver for work. Can you check the house? Feed Rio, grab mail?” I asked, “What’s Mike up to?” She sighed, “He says chores aren’t his deal.” I called out her defending him, and she snapped, “You’ve always hated him. You’re just bitter.” Stung, I agreed to help—for her.
I pulled into Lauren’s driveway as thunder rumbled. Rio squawked as I fed him and checked the house. All was calm until I heard voices upstairs—Mike’s laugh and a woman’s giggle. My heart raced as I neared the bedroom. Through a crack, I saw Mike with a woman in Lauren’s hat, drinking from her glass. He boasted, “She signed the papers blind. Thinks it’s a refinance. This house is ours soon.” The woman asked about Lauren’s stuff, and Mike scoffed, “We’ll ditch it. Bird’s gone too. I’m scouting Miami condos.”
My stomach dropped. They were wiping out Lauren’s life. A stair creaked, and Mike’s eyes shot up. I sprinted to my car, shaking, and called Lauren. “Mike’s cheating and stealing your house,” I said. She laughed coldly, “You’re lying. You’re out to ruin us.” Shocked, I begged, “I’m protecting you.” She hung up, harsh. That evening, Mike showed up, smirking, “Stay out of it.” I stood firm, knowing Lauren needed proof.
I hated it, but I used a fake call app to send Lauren a message saying I was in the ER after a crash. It was cruel, but it worked. She arrived, panicked. “You’re fine?” she asked. I confessed, “I lied to make you see.” Angry but willing, she followed me to her house. We looked inside—Mike and the woman were cozy. Lauren snapped photos, her face set with fury.
We walked in. Boxes marked “trash” held Lauren’s things. She yelled, “Mike!” He froze, muttering, “Why are you here?” Lauren roared, “You’re cheating, tossing my life, and stealing my home!” The woman fled, but Mike smirked, “You signed the papers. It’s done.” Lauren snapped, “You lied. Lee was right.” She threw them out, fierce. Later, she said, “I knew he was shady but needed proof. I trusted you.” I nodded, “Always.” We started unpacking, ready to fight back.
