Love has been stranded

"That trashy tramp in #19, you keep messing with my man, and I swear I'll break both your legs!"

The message popped up on our neighborhood group chat, followed by a grainy, night-time video. Even with the low quality, I recognized it: it was a recording of my husband, our son, and me taking a walk through the neighborhood the other night, holding hands.

"Umm, lady in #18, you got the wrong house. That's just my family on a walk. Why are you filming us?"

"You lying, cheating hussy! You're hooking up with my husband and having his love child. I'm gonna get you!"

Then, bam! A barrage of crystal-clear photos flooded the group. Me and my "husband," all cozy and close, some with my son in the frame.

A sickening realization hit me. I grabbed my phone and dialed my so-called "husband," the mooch, right away.

"Ethan, get your butt back here, and I mean now! One second late and I'll break your legs myself!"

1

While I was waiting for Ethan to slither back, I went out to the deck for a look.

Sure enough, a mob of angry women had gathered in front of #18. A big-haired woman with a face like thunder was yelling her head off. Her "posse" was in the yard with her, screaming encouragement and threats.

"Tiffany! Your husband's loaded, don't let that gold-digging floozy get a penny! We'll help you teach her a lesson today!"

"Tiffany, don't worry! That skank may be hot, but you're Ethan’s wife. That kid is just a bastard, you're the one who's gonna inherit everything!"

"That's right, Tiffany! You just standing there shows everyone you're the real Mrs. Sterling! That low-life tramp is nothing!"

Even our HOA manager, Mr. Henderson, came running over to play peacemaker. He wiggled through the crowd to get next to Tiffany, giving her a greasy smile.

"Mrs. Sterling, I heard what happened. We’re totally on your side! Mr. Sterling is a big shot, so it’s no wonder some desperate women are trying to latch onto him. Just so low-class!"

Tiffany was lapping up the praise and the manager's groveling, looking like she'd just won the lottery.

I stood on my deck, watching the circus in the backyard, arms crossed and smirking.

"Mr. Sterling," "big shot." They were all so pathetic.

If it hadn't been for me spotting Ethan’s "assets" all those years ago, and his talent for kissing up, that loser would still be sleeping on someone’s couch. The audacity!

I told the nanny to keep an eye on my son, then went to see what the mob wanted.

They were shocked to see me walking over, staring with open hostility and mocking glares.

Mr. Henderson rushed over to me, puffed up his gut and glared down at me.

"Hey, #19, you're Tara, right? How can you look at yourself in the mirror? You can't just go after someone else's husband just because he has money. You know that’s wrong, right?”

That sleazeball of a manager was definitely playing favorites because Tiffany was claiming her husband was rich.

I stared him down and chuckled.

“What part of the video makes it look like I chase...