By Andrew Hoxha 
Ithought it was a hack or an error when I received a message that almost all of our savings had been taken out of our joint account. It wasn’t. What I did next made sure my husband, Mark, would never forget what he had done—the unfathomable.
It’s been said that a man’s treatment of his mother reveals a lot about him.
I discovered from Mark’s story that a man can occasionally treat his mother too well. I ignored it for years, but this time he went too far and it was unavoidable.
Mark wasn’t an awful dude, to be honest.
He was a hard worker, a devoted husband, and a good father. However, there was one obvious weakness in his usually composed manner. Melissa, his mother.
She exerted an unfathomable impact over him at the age of 71.
No matter how absurd or uncomfortable it might be, Mark would find a way to fulfill Melissa’s wishes.
Mark co-signed a loan that we could hardly afford when she decided she needed a new car.
On another occasion, she persuaded him to purchase a modern chair for her as “her back couldn’t take the old one anymore.”
Even though they were infuriating, these choices never really threatened our marriage.
However, things were different this time.
It started like any other day.
My phone buzzed with a text while I was wrapping up my shift at work. The bank had notified us that almost all of the funds in our joint savings account had been taken out.
I felt sick to my stomach.
I initially believed it must be a scam. I ran through all the worst-case scenarios in my head. Has someone compromised our account? Had our information been stolen?
I reported the problem right away to the bank employee who oversaw our savings account.
“The withdrawal was handled in person, Jessica,” he stated in a cool, collected tone.
“In person?” I asked, feeling my heart race.
“Yes, ma’am. Earlier today, your spouse visited to move the money to a different account. Was that not permitted?
I pretended that I was aware of it and answered, “Oh, right.” “I must have overlooked it. Thank you.
I hung up with shaking hands.
For what reason would Mark deplete our savings? What crisis could possible warrant removing almost everything we had saved over the years? And behind my back at that?
I considered calling him right away but changed my mind. Face-to-face interaction was necessary for this discourse.
I sensed something wasn’t right when Mark entered the room that night. He exuded the anxious vibe of a child attempting to avoid making eye contact with a teacher after disobeying a rule.
“How did your day go?” Despite the tempest building within of me, I asked in a calm voice.
Without looking up, he placed his keys on the counter and answered, “Fine, fine.”
“Excellent,” I replied. “So, perhaps you could explain to me why you completely depleted our joint savings account without saying a word?”
With his back to me, he froze in the middle of his stride. He turned slowly after that, but he was hesitant to look.
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, Mark,” I responded, my voice shaking.
He began by scratching the back of his neck and saying, “Look, honey.” For the family, that is. in the long run.
How did you do it? I insisted.
And he said it at that moment. You would believe he was discussing getting milk from the store because of how informal his tone was.
My mother needed the money to purchase a country home, so I handed it to her. Really, it’s an investment. She added that after she dies, it will be ours, and in the meantime, she will make money by renting it out. At the moment, she needed it more than we did.
I was momentarily unresponsive. I stood there trying to take in what he had just said.
“You what?” My voice sounded like it was coming from a million miles away, but it was actually a quiet whisper.
Mark stood up and shuffled, as though he was trying to minimize the seriousness of his recent admission.
“Jess, it’s not a huge deal,” he added. She is a member of the family. The house will eventually belong to us anyhow, you know. It is comparable to an early inheritance.
“An early inheritance?” I said it again. “Are you serious?”
“Yes!” He used hand gestures as though he were describing something to a young child. She plans to rent it out, and the money she makes will go toward paying her bills. And when the moment arrives…
“When the moment arrives?” I slammed my hands down on the kitchen counter and interrupted. That was our money, Mark! funds that we expected to utilize for emergencies, saved for, and worked for. For us. Not to be used as a landlord by your mother!
He avoided looking into my eyes and murmured, “It’s not like we needed it right now.”
“As if we didn’t need it now?” I said it again, raising my voice. You didn’t even ask me, Mark! Without even exchanging words, you depleted our life savings and our savings account. Are you aware of how deceived I feel at the moment?
He remarked, “Jess, it’s not like I was trying to hurt you.” “I assumed you would comprehend.”
“You get it?” I chuckled. “You think I’d comprehend you giving your mother all of our money? For a home? Without even asking me?
With a groan, Mark massaged his temples as if he were the one who had to handle the issue. “Look, even if it may feel awful right now, the family will benefit in the long run. Jess, she’s family. She required assistance.
“Mark, how about this family?” I retaliated with a gesture between us. What about the future we are meant to create together? Are you not considering me in your “long run” plans?
He started by saying, “It’s not like that.” “I simply didn’t want to put the decision on you. I pondered.
“You were mistaken,” I interrupted.
I looked at him, trying to see a glimmer of regret. Some indication that he was aware of the extent of the harm he had caused.
A man who believed he had done the right thing, even if it meant betraying his spouse, was all I saw, though.
I realized then.
I would have to point out the issue to Mark if he was unable to perceive it. I would also need to do it in a way that would stick in his memory.
I awoke the following morning with more clarity and determination than I have in years. Mark had gone too far, and if he believed that a flimsy apology and some hollow assurances would make things right, he was in for another surprise.
I began by obtaining data.
You see, retaliation isn’t about being angry. It has to do with strategy. And I needed to be precise with my approach.
I visited the county records office first.
Finding what I was seeking for didn’t take long. I was present when Melissa bought a new country home with our hard-earned money.
I had never seen the place before. It was a modest but charming home with a well-kept yard. I took copies of all the documents I could locate and walked away guilt-free.
I then set up a meeting with the manager of the bank.
It turns out that Mark had made a crucial mistake: even though he had used up the majority of our savings, he had not completely closed the account. More significantly, my identity was still linked to the account, and there were still a few hundred dollars remaining.
Legally, I was entitled to the money and the property they had been used to buy just as much as he was.
After obtaining the bank’s details, I proceeded to the subsequent stage of my strategy.
It wasn’t just any lawyer I hired, though. It was the town’s best.
Linda was a bright, no-nonsense woman who was known for doing everything she could.
When we first met, Linda stated, “Let me get this straight.” “Without your knowledge or approval, your husband purchased a home for his mother using joint funds.”
“That’s correct,” I answered.
Linda’s eyes shone brightly. “Well, that is a classic example of a marital fiduciary obligation violation. We can make this work.
In the ensuing weeks, Linda and I developed our argument.
Any asset acquired during a marriage, even if it is in another person’s name, may be regarded as marital property in states with equitable distribution rules if joint funds were used.
Mark was unaware that his “investment” had effectively linked our divorce proceedings to Melissa’s valuable home.
Mark carried on with his daily activities as if nothing had occurred, while I worked in the background in silence. I suppose he thought the storm was over, and I allowed him to believe that.
After two months, everything was prepared. To put it mildly, the court sessions had been tense.
After receiving the divorce papers, Mark engaged a lawyer of his own, who attempted to claim that the house belonged to his mother alone. However, the proof was indisputable. The house was regarded as marital property because it had been bought with our shared cash.
In the end, the judge decided that Mark had violated his duties as a spouse by taking our savings without my permission.
I was given half of the property as part of the divorce settlement.
In court, Mark’s response was explosive. The judge’s face was flushed with anger as he slammed his hands on the table after ruling in my favor.
He yelled, “This is ridiculous!” and gave me a glare as if I had betrayed him. Mark’s rage only intensified despite his lawyer’s attempts to soothe him.
He spit out, “You’re ruining this family, Jessica!” as we walked out of the courtroom.
“Oh no,” I said calmly, “Mark.” “You did that by yourself.”
Melissa was out of town a few weeks later, so I took a car down to the country house.
Steve, the man who wanted to buy my portion of the house, was over there. Melissa and Mark had no idea what I was up to, and we closed the transaction there.
Three dogs were relaxing in the yard, a bonfire pit was blazing in the back, and Steve’s pickup truck was parked in the driveway when Melissa returned a week later.
She yelled, “What have you done?” and phoned me.
Calmly, I responded, “I sold my half, Melissa.” “I no longer have that problem.”
I hung up in the middle of Mark’s tirade about “family betrayal” when he called next.
Divorced, I feel more liberated than ever. For once, they had to pay the price for my full retaliation.