I was on a rare break at the restaurant when I overheard two waitresses chatting. Lindsey showed off a massive engagement ring. Claire teased, “Is he rich?”

Lindsey smirked. “Not Leo. My fiancé is.” That’s when she revealed her cruel plan: marry a wealthy man—divorce him fast—then live it up with Leo, her real boyfriend.

My stomach dropped. That fiancé… was Aaron. My ex-husband.

That evening, Aaron came by to drop off our son. In the kitchen, he said nervously, “I’m getting married.” When he showed me a photo, my heart sank—it was Lindsey.

I told him everything. “She’s using you. She said it herself.”

But he didn’t believe me. Accused me of jealousy.

I didn’t argue. Instead, I set a trap.

The next night, I encouraged Leo to plan a surprise dinner for Lindsey. Meanwhile, I texted Aaron: Come to the restaurant after 10 p.m. if you want the truth.

I watched the security cameras from home. Leo and Lindsey sat close, laughed, kissed.

Then Aaron walked in.

His face twisted in rage. Lindsey froze. She yanked off her ring and hurled it at him.

Outside, Aaron stood alone, shoulders shaking.

When he showed up at my door later, eyes red, he whispered, “You were right. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

I hugged him.

Not because I wanted to be right—but because no one deserves to be played like that.

Some truths hurt. But hiding them hurts more.