Ex-husband Can't Win Back My Broken Heart

I stumbled upon my husband's browser history - he'd been searching "how to win over a rich widow."

At first I thought he was just goofing around. But after attending a classmate's wedding, he started imitating that friend's every move.

Turns out the classmate's new wife is a wealthy 50-year-old who recently lost her husband.

If my husband is seriously considering leaving me for a sugar mama, I won't tell him our house is getting demolished soon. The compensation payout could set us up for life.

Mason and I have been married for two years. We're not exactly a fairytale couple, but we get along well enough.

At least, I thought we did, until a class reunion opened my eyes.

That night, I made an effort to look extra nice for Mason - styled hair, full makeup, a pretty dress.

I sat quietly by his side as he soaked up the compliments about how good I looked.

But then a server interrupted to say someone's Porsche was blocking the fire exit.

A classmate sheepishly raised his hand.

Everyone envied him, including my husband.

After the guy moved his car, he casually handed out wedding invites, mentioning his wife's Porsche was part of her dowry.

On the ride home, Mason was quiet and distracted.

When the light turned green, he suddenly floored it, blowing through the crosswalk and nearly hitting another car.

"What's your problem?" I snapped. "You've been sulking since we left. And you're driving like a maniac."

He honked angrily.

"Not my fault this piece of junk can't keep up."

It dawned on me then - he was embarrassed by my car compared to our friend's Porsche.

My dad bought it for me when we got married, to give me some status. And it's in Mason's name.

I stared out the window, fuming.

Figured that was the end of it. But a few days later, at another wedding, I grabbed Mason's phone to look something up. His browser history was full of stuff like...

"How to attract a rich woman"

"What do rich widows want in a man?"

"Does paying for a baby work?"

...

I was baffled by his search history.

"Are you ready? Don't keep everyone waiting," he said, snapping me back to reality.

When I looked up, I was surprised to see him spraying cologne. He was dressed in a suit, looking more formal than when he first met my parents—almost as if he were about to steal the bride.

Arriving at the wedding venue, I was stunned to see the bride standing next to the groom.

If it weren't for the flower pinned to her chest, I would have mistaken her for Yale's mother; she looked at least in her fifties. No wonder she had a luxury car as part of her dowry—Yale had married a wealthy woman.

Remembering the browsing history I had seen on Mason's phone that morning sent a chill down my spine. Could it be that he was also looking to find a rich woman?

"What are you zoning out for? Call Ms. Yuna," my husband nudged me.

I awkwardly called out, "Ms. Yuna," then followed him to our seats in the banquet hall.

At our table were a few of his old classmates, and naturally, the conversation revolved around the bride.

"Old? That's a young mistress! Did you hear? She got a luxury car and a multi-million dollar mansion as a dowry."

"Yale Zane has really hit it big. Once the mistress is gone, all that money will be his."

"Mason, I'm not saying this to you, but you used to be the heartthrob of our class—way better looking than Yale. If you weren't married, you could've snagged a rich woman too."

"Rich women these days are loaded and naive. Too bad you're already taken."

To my surprise, Mason didn't defend himself. He just shook his head with a hint of regret while sipping his water, completely ignoring me.

...

"Hey Yolanda, don't take it personally; we're just joking around."

I had never asked Mason about his social life, and if they could talk like this in front of me, I could only imagine how wild their chats were on their phones.

I crushed my paper cup in my hand, feeling stung by Mason's wistful reaction. How could I not be offended? But I had to keep my composure—after all, I couldn't make a scene at someone else's wedding.

Throughout the ceremony, I kept my head down and ate in silence, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me.

Lunch finally wrapped up, and after listening to Mason and his friends banter, I couldn't take it anymore. I made up a casual excuse to leave the table.

I strolled around the hotel garden for a bit, and just as I was about to head back, I unexpectedly spotted Mason at a mahjong table in a pavilion.

He was playing with three of the bride's friends, all dressed to the nines and likely in their fifties.

As Mason played, he started to take off his jacket, revealing a shirt that was two sizes too small, clinging to his muscular frame.

The lady closest to him lingered her gaze on him and playfully poked his arm.

Covering her mouth, she said something that prompted Mason to flex his arm, showing off his biceps.

Watching this unfold made me feel inexplicably nauseous, and I had to lean against the wall, dry heaving.

I met Mason through a blind date. After a year of dating, we tied the knot, as we were quite compatible in many ways.

Over the past couple years, I'd brought up wanting kids, but he always brushed it off, saying he wanted to savor our alone time.

My parents were pressuring me too, so I made excuses to fend them off.

Mason seemed to be calculating his next move - wait until he found someone better before settling down.

That way, if needed, he could easily cut ties.

...

My phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts.

It was Dad.

"Hello."

"Hey sweetheart, have you and Mason talked about the relocation yet? Probably happening in the next year or two. You two should come back soon, get his registration switched to our address, and hurry up and get pregnant. That way, when the relocation money comes in, you'll have a nice chunk to start with."

...

I hadn't told Mason about the relocation yet, but now I saw no need to.

His recent shady behavior, I hadn't mentioned to Dad. I just made him promise not to spill the beans early - I'd break the news to Mason myself, for a nice surprise.

After hanging up, I cabbed it home.

Around 11pm, I was jolted awake by car engines outside.

I went to the balcony and looked down - it was Mason.

He wasn't in his own car, but a Ferrari.

As the sports car peeled out, he blew a kiss at it.

After Mason went upstairs, I lay in bed pretending to sleep, peeking at him through half-closed eyelids.

He looked completely worn out, stumbling on his feet, and had clearly skipped washing up, collapsing onto the sofa and falling asleep.

It seemed that the rich woman had really taken advantage of him.

The next morning, I acted as if nothing had happened.

"Mason, why are you sleeping on the sofa?" I asked, feigning surprise.

He rubbed his sleepy eyes and got up, still looking dazed.

"Oh, honey, I was out late with Yale and the others last night and accidentally fell asleep. Did we have breakfast yet?"

"Could you get me some honey and eggs?"

I knew a bit about nutrition to maintain my figure, and those two items would be great for breakfast, helping with kidney health without being too obvious.

He couldn't expect to have stir-fried chives first thing in the morning, could he?

I had always made breakfast for myself, while Mason usually ate out.

After we got married, I thought it would be nice to make breakfast for him too, and it eventually became my daily routine.

Now he expected me to whip up breakfast for him? Not a chance.

I kicked my slippers on the floor.

"Get up and make it yourself. I have to head to the office soon, so I don't have time."

Without waiting for his response, I turned and left the room.

Going to the office was just an excuse; I really planned to see a lawyer.

On my way, Mason's mother called me. I thought she was just going to push us to have kids, but I was shocked to learn that Mason had told her I didn't make breakfast today.

She called to confront me about it.

"Yolanda, I'm not trying to criticize you, but breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Even if you're in a hurry, you should make sure Mason has a proper breakfast; otherwise, he'll be drained all day."

I was so frustrated I almost laughed.

For the past two years, I had handled all the meals at home, and now, just because I skipped one breakfast, their true colors were showing.

"Mrs. Charles, I thought adults could take care of themselves. Apparently, he can't. I'm sorry, but I've been really busy lately and don't have time to prepare breakfast, lunch, or dinner. How about I just have you come over to take care of Mason instead?"

Mason's mother sounded agitated.

"Yolanda, is this how you should act as a wife and daughter-in-law? Even if you don't say anything, I'm coming over. With your attitude towards household responsibilities, I can't believe how much my son has had to endure."

Then I heard the busy signal...

A woman sitting in front of me overheard our conversation and quickly waved her hand.

"Young lady, as someone who's been through this, I advise you to get out of this family as soon as you can."

I smiled and thanked her for the advice.

I was indeed going to see a lawyer today, and this was part of the reason.

I had been consulting with a law firm about divorce proceedings, which seemed to be their bread and butter.

After explaining my situation to the lawyer, I learned that I currently lacked concrete evidence of Mason's infidelity.

Even if I did, without a prenup, his cheating wouldn't carry much weight in dividing our assets.

The lawyer stressed that my priority now should be safeguarding against Mason transferring money and trying to frame me. Given his behavior, it was only a matter of time before he dumped me.

Our marital assets, while not insignificant, weren't astronomical either - a car, a house our parents co-signed for, and our combined incomes over the years, totaling a few millions.

If we divorced by mutual agreement, it would likely be a 50/50 split. If I sued for divorce based on his misconduct, I could potentially walk away with everything.

I took a personal day from work, dragging myself home after hours.

As soon as I opened the door, I was hit by a cloud of cologne - Yale, the same scent Mason always wore.

Covering my nose, I hurried past him.

He glanced up. "No taste. By the way, make some extra dishes tonight. My mom's coming over."

I paused. "You said it yourself - your mom, your problem."

Just as I finished speaking, Mason's mother's voice boomed from the doorway.

"I'd like to see anyone try to make my son cook!"

She looked ready to tear someone apart.

Mason's mom barged in, holding a set of our house keys.

Mason stood behind her, looking like a child who had just been caught misbehaving.

"Mom, you're finally here! I haven't eaten all day," he whined.

His mother immediately turned to him, almost in tears.

"My poor baby, it's okay. Mommy's here now. I'll cook for you."

And indeed, she only cooked for him.

After preparing the meal, she set the table for just the two of them and shot me a pointed look, saying, "Some people can figure out their own meals."

I quickly ordered an extravagant takeout from a fancy restaurant.

As we ate, I noticed Mason's mom's expression shifting between pale and flushed, her comments dripping with sarcasm about my spending.

Later that night, Mason was completely engrossed in his phone, laughing and chatting with someone, clearly smitten.

Once he saw I had gone to bed, he quietly slipped away to his mom's room.

He had forgotten that when we installed the internet, I had set up cameras in every room.

Now, their entire conversation was captured on video.

"Mom, I recently met this wealthy woman. Check out this watch she gave me—look at the price," Mason said, pulling a watch from his pocket and gesturing with his hands.

"What? You're...?"

"Not cheating! I've met my soulmate. I'm thinking of finding an excuse to divorce Yolanda since we don't have kids."

On the video, his mother showed no signs of reproaching her son for his mistakes; instead, she seemed to consider it seriously.

"Son, divorce is a big deal. Just for the house you two live in, your dad and I put in 300,000. We need to get that back at the very least."

It was surprising to hear her say that, especially since of the 1,500,000 house, the rest was all from my family.

"But Yolanda's not stupid. How could she just give up the house?"

"That's easy, Mom has a plan."

"What plan?"

"For a woman, reputation is everything."

...

Later, Mason started sleeping next to his mom.

Over the past few days, she had been unusually kind, and Mason no longer talked to me as openly as he used to.

On a weekend evening, his mom left early to go dancing, while Mason brought me a glass of milk himself.

It felt suspicious—when someone goes out of their way to be nice, it usually means trouble.

If I remembered correctly, there was a music festival happening nearby that night, and many media outlets would be there.

It seemed they were planning to ruin my reputation.

I took a small sip of the milk, then claimed it wasn't sweet enough and needed sugar. I walked to the kitchen and, seizing the moment, poured the milk down the sink. When Mason followed me in, I burped in front of him.

He glanced at the milk stain on my lips, completely convinced.

About half an hour later, I returned to the bedroom and lay down, pretending to feel drowsy.

Just then, Mason received a phone call and said he had to step out.

Not long after he left, there was a rapid knock at the door.

"Delivery! Is anyone there?" a rough male voice called out.

I swallowed hard but stayed silent, quickly pressing my phone to the emergency alert screen.

A few seconds later, the door lock suddenly clicked open from the outside.