“I stripped her of everything!” the husband laughed as he threw out the wife he had lived with for thirty-eight years for the sake of a young mistress: but just an hour later, the doorbell made them bitterly regret what they had done 😢😲

The wife packed her things under his watchful gaze. The husband stood in the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed, making sure she didn’t take anything “extra.” Dresses, sweaters, old photographs were tossed into the suitcase. Silently, she walked over to the nightstand and reached for the jewelry box.

“That’s not yours anymore,” he said coldly. “Take only your clothes.”

She slowly turned to him.

“My parents gave me those pieces. You have no right to them.”

He smirked and demonstratively pulled out a folder with documents.

“Here are the papers. The house is in my name. The accounts too. You are nobody here.”

His new partner appeared in the hallway wearing an expensive fur coat. She pressed herself against him, wrapped an arm around his waist, and laughed softly. The man pulled her closer and, looking at his wife with obvious satisfaction, said:

“See, darling? I stripped her of everything.”

The wife didn’t argue anymore. She closed the suitcase, wiped her tears with the back of her hand, and walked out without slamming the door. The house fell unexpectedly silent.

The man poured himself a drink. The mistress settled onto the couch, scrolling through her phone. They discussed how they would redesign the interior and where they would go on vacation. He felt like a winner. He had won the court case, transferred the property, and left his wife without a penny and without a roof over her head. It seemed to him that he had thought of everything down to the smallest detail.

Exactly one hour later, there was a knock at the door. And after that knock, both the husband and the mistress deeply regretted it 🫣😢 The continuation can be found in the first comment👇👇

The knock was not timid but firm and heavy. The man went to open the door, feeling something cold tighten inside him.

On the doorstep stood two strong men in uniform and a person in civilian clothes holding a folder.

“Are you the owner of this apartment?” the civilian asked calmly, without stepping inside.

“Yes. What’s the matter? This is private property.”

“You are under arrest in connection with a criminal case involving large-scale fraud and illegal access to bank accounts.”

The man tried to protest, reminding them of the civil case he had won, the documents, his ownership rights. But the investigator calmly explained that this was not about property division, but about money transfers from his wife’s card, loans taken out at night in her name, and a forged electronic signature.

The mistress ran into the hallway. She turned pale when she saw the uniforms.

“This is a mistake. He said everything was his.”

“The purchases made with your wife’s card are recorded. The fur coat, the jewelry, the transfers to personal accounts. We have surveillance footage and bank records,” the investigator replied dryly.

The man sank into a chair as if all the air had left him. He began to justify himself, talking about the family budget and shared property. He was calmly informed of the difference between consent and embezzlement.

The mistress tried to take off her fur coat, insisting she knew nothing. She was told everything would be sorted out at the station.

When the handcuffs clicked around his wrists, the husband understood for the first time that he was the one who had truly lost everything. The house was sealed, the accounts frozen, and the car seized as evidence.

And the wife he had thrown out was already sitting in her sister’s warm apartment, giving her statement. She had known about his nighttime manipulations for a long time and had simply waited until the amount was large enough for serious charges.

The husband had laughed that he had stripped her of everything. But in the end, it was he who was left with nothing.