“Stage four cancer… just weeks to live…” These words echoed in my head as my world turned upside down. My husband was dying. The diagnosis was dull. I was crushed.

When we saw Dr. Matthews about Eric’s condition, his face said it all. I knew something was terribly wrong. And that’s when he told us that Eric had stage four cancer and only weeks to live.

The news hit us like a ton of bricks.

Eric needed to stay at the hospital, and in the days to come, I spent most of my time there, being supportive and assuring him everything was going to be alright.

I cried my heart out at the thought that Eric could leave this world, but the doctor told me I should be prepared for the worse.

As I was pacing the hospital halls, I felt like I needed some fresh air so I went out and found myself sitting on one of the benches. And that’s when SHE appeared, a nurse in her late 40s. Wearing navy scrubs and shoes worn by someone who spent long hours on their feet, she sat next to me.

“Set up a camera in his ward,” she whispered. “He’s not dying.”

“What!?” I yelled. “What are you talking about?”

“Just do what I say, you deserve to know the truth.”

And then she was gone.

Her words planted the seed of suspicion in me. I was torn between trusting my husband or violating his privacy. Eventually, I convinced myself that if there was any truth behind the words of that nurse, I deserved to know it.

That evening, as I was typing my credit card number and pressed “order,” my hands trembled. Once I purchased the tiny camera, I caught myself whispering “I’m sorry,” not aware who I was apologizing to, Eric or myself.

Two days later, when Eric was scheduled for a CT scan, I went into his hospital room and set up the tiny camera.

Not knowing what to expect, I played the footage the following morning.

What I saw broke me. A woman wearing a sleek leather coat entered Eric’s room and he jumped out of his bed. The pain that he described as unbearable seemed to have vanished the moment he saw that woman.

They hugged and kissed, and their body language was intimate and familiar. Sadly, I couldn’t hear what they were saying, I just saw her handing him some papers that he placed under his mattress.

All that time I believed my husband was dying, he was seeing someone else behind my back, someone with whom he was obviously planning something big.

I knew I needed solid proof of whatever Eric and that woman were doing, so the following night, I stayed at the hospital without him knowing.

Around 9 pm, the woman came again. She walked through the hallways as though she owned the place. Confident and unbothered. Once she entered the room, I stood by the door and listened. What I heard was the ultimate betrayal. Something I would never expect from the man I was married to for 15 long years.

It turned out their plan was to fake his death, and once he was declared dead, the insurance money would be transferred offshore.

“This was too easy,” Eric said. “You should have seen my wife today. She’s already planning my funeral. So concerned and loving, I almost feel sorry for her, poor thing,” Eric said through laughter. “And I have to admit, Dr. Matthews played his part well, although his fake diagnosis cost me a little fortune.”

I was heartbroken. The cruelty of Eric’s words cut deeper than a blade.

Luckily, I caught their conversation on my phone, ready to share it with the world.

The following day, I called everyone I knew, family members, colleagues, friends. I told them Eric’s condition worsened and he wanted everyone at the hospital, to see them for one last time. Then, I went to him and waited. As those people I called started arriving one by one, Eric could sense something wasn’t right.

His face went pale, because he could sense his plan could crumble.

Once I made sure everyone was there, I said, “Before you say your final goodbyes, there is something I want you to know about Eric.”

He looked at me in confusion. “Diana, what are you doing, what is going on?”

I didn’t bother to answer. I just played the recording.

Shocked, his family and friends started murmuring in disbelief. His mom started crying. “Oh, Eric, how could you do this to us? To your wife?”

She was so shocked and so disappointed in her son, that she almost collapsed.

“Don’t worry, honey,” I said. “The police are on their way.”

At that moment, I spotted Eric’s mistress. When she realized something odd was going on, she tried to run away, but she didn’t even got to the elevator before she got arrested alongside my husband who I thought was dying, and Dr. Matthews.

I filed for divorce the following day, glad I hadn’t fallen victim to my cruel husband who convinced me he was dying.

Relieved, I returned to the bench in front of the hospital. After some time, the nurse who saved me from being betrayed showed up. I thanked her for warning me about Eric and she explained that she overheard him speaking to his mistress during a night shift.

“You saved me from a different kind of grief,” I said.

Losing my husband, not to cancer, but to his lies, felt like the best thing that has ever happened to me.