After a long work trip, I came home to an empty house—everything was gone. No furniture, no photos, not even my clothes. My husband Greg wouldn’t answer my calls. At first, I thought we’d been robbed… until I found a muddy footprint—one I recognized from boots I gifted my mother-in-law.
The police came, but I had a gut feeling. I drove to Linda’s house—and there was all my stuff, crammed into her living room. My husband was there too. Furious, I confronted them.
That’s when they dropped the bomb: they believed I’d cheated with a coworker. Fake “evidence” in the form of photos, texts, and audio had convinced Greg. But I hadn’t done anything wrong.
Turns out, Linda had bribed my colleague to fabricate the affair using AI. Why? Because she never liked me—and wanted me gone.
I called the police again, this time with proof of ownership. They forced Linda and Greg to return everything and fined them both. Greg tried to apologize, but it was too late.
I told him I wanted a divorce.
Now I’m starting over. Hurt, but free. And this time, no one’s taking my peace away.
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