The Conclusion
Without thinking, I fumbled for my keys, my hands trembling with rage. I jammed the key into the lock and threw the front door open.
The woman jumped, nearly dropping her mug on the counter. She didn’t look like a mistress caught in the act; she looked genuinely terrified.
“Who are you?!” she screamed, reaching for her phone. “How did you get in here? I’m calling the police!”
“I live here!” I shouted, marching into the kitchen. “The better question is, who are you and where is my husband?”
The woman lowered her phone, looking confused. “Husband? You mean Mark? The host?” She tapped her screen and turned it toward me. “I rented this entire home on a vacation rental app for two weeks. I have the confirmation right here.”
I stared at the screen. There was my living room, my garden, and my kitchen, listed under “Luxury Family Oasis.” The host was my husband.
My stomach dropped. The “deep disinfection” story was a complete lie. He hadn’t kicked us out for our health; he had kicked his own wife and children out of their home to rent it to strangers because he needed quick cash.
Just then, the back door slid open. Mark walked in, whistling, carrying a box of fancy pastriesāthe kind he claimed we couldn’t afford anymore. He froze when he saw me standing next to the stranger.
“Honey… I can explain,” he stammered, his face draining of color.
“Save it,” I snapped.
It turned out Mark had been hiding $20,000 in gambling debt. He thought he could shuffle his family into a cheap motel for a fortnight, rent our house out at a premium price, and pay off his loan sharks before I ever noticed.
I looked at the woman. “I am so sorry, but this is a fraudulent listing. You’ll need to contact support for a refund.”
Then I turned to Mark. “You kicked us out for two weeks? Well, congratulations. You just made it permanent. Get out.”
I changed the locks an hour later and filed for divorce the next morning. I kept the house, and Mark is now staying in the cheap motel he tried to force us into.
