MY WIFE’S TEXT SHOWED A BANK TRANSFER TO SOMEONE NAMED ‘GREG’
The blue light from her phone illuminated the bedstand as I reached for it, curiosity biting hard. I picked it up, and the screen flashed with a notification: “Transfer sent: $3,000 to Greg Matthews.” My stomach dropped instantly, feeling the cold metal of the phone against my trembling fingers. My heart was pounding, thrumming against my ribs. Who was Greg, and why was she secretly sending him thousands of *our* dollars?
I nudged her awake, the faint smell of her lavender shampoo filling the air around her pillow, almost mockingly peaceful. Her eyes blinked open, groggy, then widened as she saw the screen. “Why did you send three thousand dollars to someone named Greg?” I demanded, my voice barely a strained whisper.
She started mumbling, something about an old debt, a misunderstanding, but her eyes wouldn’t meet mine, darting away. “It’s nothing, really, just an old college friend,” she stammered, her voice suddenly high and reedy. But the date on the transfer was this morning, not years in the past. It made no sense.
Then she finally confessed, the words tumbling out like a broken dam: a hidden gambling debt from years back, a habit she swore she’d quit long ago. He’d resurfaced, threatening to expose everything to my family if she didn’t pay up. Three thousand, she choked, was just the first installment of what he was demanding.
Then the front door rattled, and a key turned in the lock — not hers.
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*My blood ran cold. Another key? Who else had a key to our house? The door swung open, revealing a man I’d never seen before. Tall, with slicked-back hair and a predatory smile, he looked exactly like the kind of person who’d extort money.
“Good evening,” he said, his eyes flicking between my wife and me. “I believe we have some unfinished business.”
My wife shrank back against the headboard, her face pale. “Greg, this isn’t necessary,” she pleaded, her voice trembling.
“Necessary?” Greg chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. “Let’s just say I’m collecting what’s owed to me.” He gestured towards me. “And who’s this? The clueless husband?”
Rage, hot and consuming, flooded through me. I stepped forward, my fists clenched. “Get out of my house,” I growled.
Greg smirked. “Or what? You going to stop me? Your wife already knows what happens when you don’t cooperate.”
My wife’s earlier lie about a gambling debt suddenly felt flimsy, insufficient. Something wasn’t adding up. I looked at her, searching for answers. This wasn’t about college; this felt much deeper, darker.
“He’s lying,” she whispered, her eyes pleading. “It’s not a gambling debt. He… he has something on me. Something I did a long time ago. A mistake.”
The pieces clicked into place, a horrifying image forming in my mind. The “mistake” she was referring to, the one she alluded to early in our marriage but refused to elaborate on, suddenly had a face, a name, and a price tag.
I took a deep breath, trying to control my spiraling emotions. “What does he have?” I asked her, my voice surprisingly calm.
She hesitated, then confessed, the words barely audible. “He knows about… the accident. He was there.”
My world tilted on its axis. Years ago, before we met, she’d been involved in a hit-and-run. She’d always been haunted by it, consumed by guilt. Apparently, Greg was the only other person who knew.
I turned back to Greg, the truth hardening my gaze. “You’re a parasite,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “Feeding off her guilt. Get out. Now. Or I swear, you’ll regret it.”
Greg laughed, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. He saw the resolve in my face, the protective fury that had replaced the earlier confusion.
“Think about it,” he sneered, backing towards the door. “This is just the beginning.” He paused at the threshold, his eyes lingering on my wife. “You know where to find me when you change your mind.”
He slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him.
Silence descended on the room, thick and heavy. I turned to my wife, my heart aching. The lie about the gambling was to protect my ignorance of what really happened.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked softly, my voice laced with pain.
She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. “I was so afraid,” she sobbed. “Afraid of what you’d think of me.”
I sat beside her on the bed, pulling her close. I didn’t condone what she’d done, but I understood the fear that had driven her.
“We’ll face this together,” I said, holding her tight. “We’ll go to the police. He can’t keep doing this to you. To us.”
The relief that washed over her face was palpable. Finally, she saw that she wasn’t alone, and there was another way out. This wasn’t a quick fix, but a plan to free her.
We reported Greg to the police, providing them with all the information we had. He was quickly arrested, not just for extortion, but also for his involvement in covering up the original hit-and-run.
The legal battle was long and arduous, and the truth about my wife’s past was exposed. But through it all, we stood together. She accepted the consequences of her actions, and I stood by her side, offering unwavering support.
In the end, the experience, though painful, forged a stronger bond between us. We learned the importance of honesty and trust, and we emerged from the darkness with a renewed commitment to our marriage. The secrets were out, the lies exposed, and finally, we were free.