While my mother-in-law was helping my husband’s mistress choose shoes with my money, I was canceling the black credit card she idolized, and she had no idea that the penthouse, the cars, and her entire lifestyle were about to vanish with a single slip-up…

While my mother-in-law was helping my husband’s mistress choose shoes with my money, I was canceling the black credit card she idolized, and she had no idea that the penthouse, the cars, and her entire lifestyle were about to vanish with a single slip-up…

While my mother-in-law was helping my husband’s mistress pick out designer shoes with my money, I was quietly canceling the black credit card she worshipped—unaware that her penthouse dreams, luxury cars, and borrowed lifestyle were about to disappear with one wrong move.
As Carmen, my mother-in-law, doted on Valeria—my husband Javier’s mistress—inside a luxury boutique, I sat alone in my car, staring at a notification that stopped my breath:

“Purchase approved: €3,980 – Black Card.”

That card wasn’t Javier’s.
It was mine.

More precisely, it belonged to the company I built long before I married him—a company I’d foolishly allowed him to “manage” on paper, out of love and trust.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t panic. I opened my banking app.

There it was: boutique charges, restaurants, jewelry stores—small but constant expenses. Routine. And the detail that cut deepest was a note on one receipt Valeria had added herself:

“For me, thank you.”

I called the bank immediately.

“I want the black card canceled. Right now.”

The agent hesitated, mentioning privileges and benefits.

“Cancel it,” I repeated. “And block all future transactions.”

Then I called my lawyer, Mario.

“I need a full review of the accounts and property contracts today,” I said.

Something had clearly gone wrong—and I was done pretending otherwise.
Meanwhile, Javier was texting me hearts and excuses, claiming he was stuck in a meeting. I checked his location. He was four blocks from the boutique, likely waiting to escort them like a proud host.

I took screenshots of everything—transactions, timestamps, access logs—then logged into the penthouse control system.