Allowance, Lies, and a Secret Ex

My husband, Jerrold, rushed out for an emergency IT call, leaving his phone behind. A bank alert flashed across the screen: a $2,500 mortgage payment to his ex-wife, Jackie Reid.

My heart sank. For five years, he' d told me his take-home pay was only $4,000 a month, and I struggled to cover our family' s expenses on the meager $1,200 allowance he gave me.

When I confronted him, he stammered excuses, and his parents, who knew all along, defended his 'obligation' to his past.

But the lies ran deeper. I soon discovered his real income was over double what he claimed, and our entire five-year marriage was built on a foundation of deceit to pay for his guilt over cheating on his first wife.

He had me clipping coupons and telling our son, Leo, 'no' to simple treats, all while he secretly funneled $150,000 of our money to his ex. He wasn't just lying; he was stealing our future.

That's when I stopped crying and started collecting evidence. I hired a lawyer and walked into that courtroom ready to take back every penny he stole from me and our son.

Chapter 1

Karly Chandler POV:

My phone buzzed on the counter, a bright notification flashing across the screen. Jerrold' s phone. He had left it when he rushed out for an emergency IT call. I wasn't usually one to snoop, but the alert caught my eye. It was from his bank, a transaction notification.

My heart gave a weird little flutter. It just flickered past the part of my brain that said "don't look" and landed right on "what is this?" The message was clear, stark white text on a dark blue background: "$2,500 Mortgage Payment to Jackie Reid."

Jackie Reid. The name hit me like a cold wave. His ex-wife. Leo' s dad' s ex-wife. My stomach twisted. Why was Jerrold sending her $2,500 every month? We barely had enough for our own expenses on the $1,200 allowance he gave me.

I picked up the phone, my fingers trembling slightly. The screen was still lit with the notification. Jackie Reid. Not a one-time thing, but a "mortgage payment." Monthly. It implied a regularity, a commitment. A secret commitment.

Jerrold walked back into the kitchen, his face flushed from the phone call. "Everything okay, babe?" he asked, reaching for a glass of water. His eyes flickered to his phone in my hand. His smile froze.

His easy, relaxed demeanor vanished in an instant. His shoulders tensed, and his eyes narrowed, just for a split second, but I saw it. The shift was immediate, unnerving. It was like watching a mask slip.

"What's this, Jerrold?" I held out the phone, the screen still displaying the incriminating notification. My voice was steady, but inside, a storm was brewing.

He took a sharp breath, his gaze darting from the phone to my face, then to the floor. "Karly, I can explain," he started, his voice suddenly thick.

"No, you can' t," I cut him off, my voice rising. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of disbelief and anger. "Not right now. You can't explain five years of lies."

Five years. The thought echoed in my head, cold and hollow. Five years of believing in a man who pretended to be struggling, while secretly bankrolling his past. Five years of clipping coupons, of saying no to Leo' s little wants, of stressing over every bill.

He told me his take-home pay was $4,000 a month. That' s what we lived on, what we planned our entire life around. $4,000. And out of that, he gave me $1,200 for groceries, utilities, Leo' s daycare, everything. He kept the rest for "bills" and "savings." But $2,500 of that was going to Jackie. Every single month.

The disparity stared back at me, a gaping chasm between what he said and what he did. It wasn' t just a lie; it was a deliberate, calculated deception. A double life. The thought made me feel sick to my stomach.

My mind went numb. Confusion bled into a chilling indifference. The man standing before me, the father of my child, suddenly felt like a stranger. The face I thought I knew, the eyes I thought I trusted, were now just a blank canvas painted with deceit.

This wasn't a new payment. The notification clearly mentioned a "recurring mortgage payment." This wasn't recent. This had been going on. Years. My entire marriage. The weight of it settled on my chest, heavy and suffocating.

I looked down at the phone again, forcing myself to process the details. The bank. The amount. The recipient. Jackie Reid. His ex-wife. The one he' d cheated on, the one he claimed he felt so guilty about. It wasn't guilt he was paying; it was our future.

My blood ran cold. Jackie. Of course, it was Jackie. The first wife, the first child. The ghost in our every conversation, the unspoken burden. He was paying her mortgage. Our mortgage, the one we' d been struggling to keep up with, was barely covered by what he gave me for household expenses.

Jerrold tried to snatch the phone from my hand, his face a mask of panic. "Give it back, Karly! Let me explain!"

I pulled away sharply, stepping back until the kitchen island was between us. The physical distance felt necessary, a buffer against the sudden venom that filled the air.

"Explain what, Jerrold?" My voice was dangerously low now, stripped of emotion. "Explain how you' ve been funneling money to your ex-wife for five years? Explain how you lied about your salary, about our finances, about everything?"

He shifted his weight, unable to meet my gaze. Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. His evasion was an answer in itself.

All the memories came flooding back. The sacrifices. The penny-pinching. The times I' d wanted to buy something nice for Leo, a new toy, a better pair of shoes, and had to hold back. My trust, so freely given, now felt like a foolish vulnerability. Our marriage, built on what I thought was honesty and partnership, was a house of cards.

"What is your actual salary, Jerrold?" I asked, pushing, needing to hear the lie unravel completely. "Tell me the real number. Not the one you made up for me."

He stammered, "I told you, Karly. It's around four thousand. It fluctuates." He held onto the lie even now, an instinct, a reflex.

"You're lying!" I screamed, the control I had maintained shattering. "You are still lying! What kind of man are you?"

That night, after he'd gone to bed, I couldn' t sleep. I got up, my mind racing. He had accounts he managed himself. I knew his password for one of the joint accounts, the one where our 'savings' supposedly were. I logged in on my laptop.

It was worse than I could have imagined. Auto-transfers. Every month. Like clockwork. To Jackie Reid. For five years. Since almost the day we got married.

The start date. That' s what hit me. It wasn't a sudden lapse; it was a pact. A secret agreement made before our life together even truly began. It was a betrayal baked into the foundation of our marriage.

I started adding the numbers. $2,500 a month. For 60 months. $150,000. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Money that could have gone to our family, to Leo' s college fund, to our own house, not just a rented one. Money that I had earned, too, working part-time.

"One hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Jerrold," I said to his sleeping form, the words bitter on my tongue. "You stole $150,000 from us. From me. From Leo."

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at me, confused, then his gaze sharpened. "Karly, what are you doing?"

"You owe her, don't you?" I asked, my voice flat. "That's what this is about. Some debt you feel you owe her from your past life."

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "It's... it's complicated, Karly. It's an obligation. From my previous marriage."

The absurdity of it, the sheer audacity, made a guttural laugh escape my throat. "An obligation? While your current wife, the mother of your second child, is struggling to pay for groceries? While I had to take out a personal loan for a $2,000 car repair because you said we couldn't afford it?"

He was silent. He just sat there, a picture of pathetic guilt.

"Why, Jerrold? Why us? Why did you marry me if you were still so entangled with your past?" I demanded, my voice raw.

He looked away, unable to answer. His silence was deafening, a chasm between us that felt impossible to cross.

The anger boiled, a hot, searing wave. "Do you have any idea what I' ve given up? My peace of mind? My trust? My dignity?"

He mumbled something about wanting to make things right, about his family, about not wanting to upset anyone.

"Upset anyone?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh. "You've systematically defrauded your own family. Your wife and son. And you think you're protecting us?"

He just looked at me, his eyes wide and vacant. He couldn't even pretend to care about my pain.

"I asked you about your salary so many times, Jerrold," I said, my voice now laced with an icy contempt. "Every time, you looked me in the eye and lied. You said $4,000 was all you made. But your actual post-tax income is $8,500, isn' t it?"

He flinched. The truth was out.

I clicked through more tabs. Another hidden account. A larger balance than I expected. And the spending patterns. New golf clubs. Expensive gadgets he'd claimed were "gifts from work." A vacation with his buddies he swore was "all covered by them."

I closed the laptop with a definitive snap. My hands were shaking, not from anger, but from a profound weariness. I was done.

"I need some space, Jerrold," I said, my voice devoid of warmth. "I need to think."

I walked out of the bedroom, heading towards Leo' s room, needing the comfort of his innocent presence. Jerrold called after me, "Karly, please! Don't do this!" But I didn't look back. My mind was already mapping out a path, a future that didn't include him. A future I would build for Leo and myself, free from his elaborate lies. The clock was ticking.