My husband earns $25,000 a month but gives it all to his mother: “I can have 100 wives, but only one mother.” That night, i served 4 bowls of ramen. He had no idea who really owned the penthouse…!!!
My husband earns $25,000 a month but gives it all to his mother: “I can have 100 wives, but only one mother.” That night, i served 4 bowls of ramen. He had no idea who really owned the penthouse…!!!
Julian slammed his palm flat onto our custom walnut dining table, making the hot, artificially yellow ramen broth violently spill over the edges of the pristine porcelain bowls.
“I give my entire paycheck to my mother!” he roared, his bespoke Tom Ford suit straining against his performative rage. “I’m a man of business. Mom is the elder. She knows how to manage household expenses and invest securely for our future! Are we really going to sit here and nickel-and-dime each other over some groceries?”
Eleanor, weighed down by a dozen luxury shopping bags from Fifth Avenue boutiques, lifted her chin triumphantly. “Exactly. The wealth my son generates is safe in my hands. If you, as a wife, cannot boost his career, the absolute least you can do is not attempt to turn him against his own flesh and blood.”
I stared at the man who had once sworn to treat me like a queen, my heavy baby bump pressing against my oversized grey sweatshirt. He was nothing more than a chauvinistic mama’s boy, gladly dumping the crushing financial burden of this Manhattan luxury lifestyle entirely onto his pregnant wife’s draining savings.
“Shut your mouth!” Julian bellowed, his dark eyes flashing with an unfamiliar, ruthless cruelty. “I will say this exactly once. There are plenty of women in this world. If it’s not this wife, I’ll easily get another. I can have a hundred wives, but I only get one mother. If you cannot live with how things are done under my roof, pack your bags and get the hell out.”
I can have a hundred wives, but I only get one mother.
That single, arrogant sentence was the sledgehammer that finally shattered my very last illusion. I didn’t cry. I stood up slowly, staring directly into his dilated pupils, and threw a grenade of truth at them that they had never dared to imagine.
“You’re right,” I whispered, my voice dripping with lethal grace. “You only have one mother. But listen to me very carefully, Julian. Your precious mother hasn’t been investing a single dime for our future. She has been wiring the bulk of your twenty-five grand a month directly to your deadbeat brother in Ohio to build him a sprawling mansion.”
Julian’s face violently twitched. Eleanor let out a sharp, involuntary gasp.
“And this penthouse?” I continued, stepping closer and forcing him to back up. “Every single bit of it was bought with the money of the wife you just called a parasite. Starting tomorrow morning, whoever wants to eat in this house pays for it.”
Julian blinked rapidly, his brain entirely short-circuiting. “What… what kind of insane garbage are you spewing? I am paying the mortgage on this place!”
Eleanor’s designer handbag slipped from her fingers, hitting the hardwood floor with a heavy thud. They were terrified, yet still fiercely clinging to their delusion. They had absolutely no idea who I really was behind the stay-at-home-wife facade.
And they had no idea whose name was actually inked onto the deed of this five-million-dollar property…
