**My Husband and His Mistress Changed the Locks While I Was at Work Little Did They Know What Was Coming**
So there I was, coming home after a long day at work, only to find my own husband had changed the locks! I couldnt believe it when my key didnt fit. Standing outside our flat in Notting Hill, heart in pieces, I thought of all the effort Id put into saving our marriageonly for it to crumble in an instant. But what they didnt know was, I was about to teach them a lesson theyd never forget.
*”James, its nearly ten at night,”* my voice shook as I called him the evening before. *”You promised youd be home by seven!”*
He tossed his keys onto the sideboard without even looking at me.
*”Work, Emma. What do you want me to tell my boss? That I have to rush home to my wife?”* he snapped, as if I were some inconvenient chore.
I swallowed my tears, staring at the table Id set for a quiet birthday dinnertwo candles flickering beside the cake Id picked up on my lunch break.
*”Yes, James. Exactly that. Just once,”* I crossed my arms, blinking back tears. *”Its my birthday.”*
He finally glanced at the table. His expression shifted when it clicked.
*”Bloody hell, Emma, I forgot”* he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
*”Seems that way,”* I replied coldly, a lump in my throat.
*”Dont start,”* he rolled his eyes. *”Im working for usyou know that.”*
I let out a bitter laugh.
*”For us?”* I asked. *”Youre barely home, James. When was the last time we had dinner? Watched a film? Actually talked like husband and wife?”*
*”Thats unfair,”* he frowned. *”Im building a career for our future.”*
*”What future? We live like strangers under the same roof!”* My voice cracked. *”I earn more than you, so dont give me that ‘providing for the family’ nonsense.”*
His face turned to stone.
*”Right, of course youd throw that in my face,”* he sneered. *”How am I supposed to compete with my successful wife?”*
*”Thats not what I meant”*
*”Enough, Emma. Im going to bed.”* He cut me off and walked away, leaving me alone with a cold cake and dying candles.
I blew them out, trying to convince myself things would get better. He was my husband. I loved him. Every marriage has rough patches, doesnt it? Thats what everyone says.
How wrong I was to forgive so easily.
Wed been married three years, but the last one had been a slow, painful unraveling. No kidsthank God for that. Me, a marketing director, covered most of the bills while James, a sales rep, constantly moaned about stress, overtime, traffic everything except the truth, which I discovered far too late.
Three weeks after my ruined birthday, I came home early with a splitting headachejust wanted painkillers and bed. But when I reached our building in Kensington, I noticed something odd. The doorknob and lock, once brass, were now sleek and silver.
*”What the?”* I tried my key. It didnt fit.
Tried again. Nothing. Double-checked the flat numberdefinitely ours.
Then I spotted the handwritten note taped to the door: *”This isnt your home anymore. Find somewhere else.”*
The floor might as well have dropped from under me.
*”Youve got to be joking!”* I yelled.
I banged on the door, shouting his name. Finally, it openedand there was James, with his mistress behind him, wearing my cashmere robe (a gift from my mum).
*”Are you serious?”* My voice trembled with rage.
*”Emma, look”* He crossed his arms, smirking. *”Ive moved on. Me and Sophie are together now. We need the space. Go crash at someone elses place.”*
Sophie. The so-called *”work friend”* hed mentioned for months. She stepped forward, hands on hips, and said smugly:
*”Your stuffs in boxes in the garage. Take it and go.”*
I stood there, stunned. Then I turned on my heel and stormed to the car, fury boiling over. They thought they could toss me out like rubbish and get away with it? Think again.
I needed a plan. A good one.
I called my sister, Lucy.
*”Emma? Oh my God, what happened?”* She yanked me inside her flat the second she saw my tear-streaked face.
I collapsed onto the sofa and spilled everything.
*”What a complete tosser!”* she huffed when I finished. *”And that Sophie wearing YOUR robe?”*
*”The one Mum gave me,”* I sniffed. *”The cashmere one, remember?”*
Lucy marched to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of wine.
*”Drink,”* she ordered. *”Then well figure out how to ruin them.”*
*”What can I even do?”* I took a sip. *”The flats in his name. The mortgage was his because my credit was still recovering from my masters.”*
Lucy narrowed her eyes.
*”Who paid for everything else?”* she asked.
*”We both, but”* I paused, realising. *”I bought it all. The furniture, the appliances, the bathroom renovation last year. Everything.”*
*”Exactly!”* She grinned wickedly. *”Whats James got? An empty flat.”*
I pulled up my banking app and scrolled through statements.
*”Ive got every receipt. I always kept track.”*
*”Of course you did, Miss Spreadsheet,”* Lucy laughed. *”Queen of organisation!”*
For the first time that awful day, I felt control returning.
*”They think theyve won, dont they?”* I whispered.
She clinked her glass against mine.
*”Theyve no idea who theyre dealing with.”*
The next morning, I called my lawyer friend, Fiona.
*”What he did is illegal,”* she said over coffee. *”He cant just change the locks and kick you out, even if the flats in his name. Youve got residency rights.”*
*”I dont want to go back,”* I said firmly. *”But I want whats mine.”*
Fiona smiled.
*”Then lets make a list.”*
We spent the morning noting down everything Id bought: the sofa, the telly, the fridge, even the rugs. By lunch, I had a detailed inventoryreceipts, dates, amounts.
*”Impressive,”* she nodded. *”With this, no ones arguing.”*
*”Can I just take it all?”* I asked.
*”Legally, yes. But Id bring a police escort to avoid drama.”*
I remembered James smug grin. Sophie in my robe. Their certainty theyd won.
*”No,”* I said slowly. *”Ive got a better idea.”*
That same day, I hired a removal company. The owner, Rob, heard my story and nodded.
*”Had a similar case last year,”* he said. *”Wife caught her husband cheating, took everything while he was out.”*
*”I need the same,”* I replied. *”Except I want them home when it happens.”*
I waited until Saturday…
On the chosen day, the movers arrived at noon. I knocked on the door with a smile, ready for them to take every last piece of the home Id built with my own hands.
