My husband earns $25,000 a month but gives it all to his mother: “I can have 100 wives, but only one mother.” That night, i served 4 bowls of ramen. He had no idea who really owned the penthouse…!!!
My husband earned $25,000 a month and handed every dollar to his mother. When I finally questioned him, he looked me straight in the eye and said: “I can have a hundred wives, but I only get one mother.” That night, I served four bowls of ramen. He had no idea who actually owned the penthouse we were sitting in.
Julian slammed his palm onto our custom walnut dining table, sending yellow ramen broth splashing over the rims of the porcelain bowls.
“I give my entire paycheck to my mother!” he shouted. “I’m a businessman. Mom is the elder. She knows how to manage household expenses and invest securely for our future! Are we really going to sit here and nickel-and-dime each other over groceries?”
His mother, Eleanor, sat nearby surrounded by luxury shopping bags from Fifth Avenue.
She lifted her chin.
“Exactly. The wealth my son generates is safe in my hands. If you, as a wife, cannot boost his career, the least you can do is stop trying to turn him against his own flesh and blood.”
I stared at my husband.
I was heavily pregnant, wearing an oversized gray sweatshirt, while the man who had once promised to treat me like a queen happily placed the entire cost of our Manhattan lifestyle on my savings.
“Shut your mouth!” Julian snapped.
His expression had become colder than I had ever seen it.
“I will say this exactly once. There are plenty of women in this world. If it’s not this wife, I’ll easily get another. I can have a hundred wives, but I only get one mother. If you cannot live with how things are done under my roof, pack your bags and get out.”
I can have a hundred wives, but I only get one mother.
That sentence destroyed the last illusion I had about my marriage.
I didn’t cry.
I slowly stood and looked directly at him.
“You’re right,” I said quietly. “You only have one mother. But listen carefully, Julian. Your precious mother hasn’t been investing a single dime for our future.”
Eleanor’s smile vanished.
“She has been wiring most of your twenty-five thousand dollars every month to your brother in Ohio so he can build himself a mansion.”
Julian’s face twitched.
Eleanor gasped.
“And this penthouse?” I continued. “Every inch of it was purchased with money belonging to the wife you just treated like a burden. Starting tomorrow morning, anyone who wants to live or eat here pays for it themselves.”
Julian blinked rapidly.
“What kind of garbage are you talking about? I pay the mortgage on this place!”
Eleanor’s handbag slipped from her hand and hit the floor.
For the first time, both of them looked nervous.
But they still had no idea who I really was behind the stay-at-home-wife image they had created for me.
And they definitely didn’t know whose name was attached to the five-million-dollar penthouse.
