I Found a Christmas Gift in My Husband’s Closet, but It Was for His Mistress — So I Switched It for a Dose of Sweet Revenge

I Found a Christmas Gift in My Husband’s Closet, but It Was for His Mistress — So I Switched It for a Dose of Sweet Revenge

I Found a Christmas Gift in My Husband’s Closet with His Mistress’s Name on It — So I Gave Them Both a Surprise They’ll Never Forget

Christmas is meant to be a time of joy and togetherness, but my world shattered two days before the holiday. While cleaning, I discovered a hidden gift in my husband’s closet — a beautiful red box with a ribbon and a tag. My heart leaped, thinking it was for me, but when I read the note, I froze: “Love you, Julie.”

Julie. Not me. My name is Alina.


The signs had been there for weeks. Jimmy, my husband of five years, had started coming home late, citing endless client meetings. Our once cozy evenings were now marked by the faint scent of cologne and rushed excuses.

That day, while tidying up his closet, I found the gift — a diamond necklace, the very one I’d admired months ago. My excitement turned to heartbreak as I realized it wasn’t meant for me but for his mistress.

Shock gave way to calm determination. I wasn’t going to cry or confront him. No, I had a different plan.


I called my friend Mark, an old college buddy with a knack for fixing things — and for creative revenge.

“Mark, how fast can you modify a gift box?” I asked.

“Depends. What are we doing?”

“Turning heartbreak into justice,” I replied.

We rigged the box with a harmless but spectacular surprise: a spring-loaded mechanism filled with industrial-grade green paint. The moment someone lifted the lid, it would explode.

“It’ll coat anyone within three feet,” Mark explained.

“Perfect,” I said, imagining the chaos.


On Christmas morning, Jimmy grabbed the box from the closet, hiding it poorly under his arm.

“Heading out?” I asked sweetly, sipping my coffee.

“Just a quick client meeting,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“On Christmas? How noble,” I said with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

As soon as he left, I followed him to Honey Bunz, our favorite café. Through the window, I saw her: Julie. She looked exactly as I imagined — perfectly polished, with blonde hair, red lipstick, and a designer outfit.

Jimmy handed her the box, grinning like a fool. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

Julie squealed, “Oh my God, Jimmy! You shouldn’t have!” She eagerly untied the ribbon.


The moment she lifted the lid, the room erupted.

SPLAT!

Green paint exploded everywhere, coating Julie’s hair, face, and designer dress. She screamed, “WHAT IS THIS?” as diners turned to stare.

Jimmy, now covered in green paint himself, stammered, “I… I don’t know! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Julie stood, dripping and furious. “You’re an idiot! This dress cost more than your car!”

The café erupted in laughter as Julie stormed out, leaving Jimmy behind.


When Jimmy returned home, still streaked with green paint, I greeted him with a manila envelope.

“What’s this?” he asked warily.

“Your Christmas gift,” I said, smiling.

Inside were divorce papers.

“Alina, wait! Let me explain!” he pleaded.

“No need,” I said, holding up the diamond necklace. “By the way, Julie left this behind. Looks like I’ll be keeping it after all.”

As I walked out, I glanced back and said, “Oh, and Jimmy? Green really isn’t your color.”


Now, the necklace is mine, and every time I wear it, I’m reminded of the Christmas I turned betrayal into justice. Jimmy’s “green Christmas” is still the talk of the town — and a viral sensation online. As for me? I’m free, happy, and finally enjoying the holidays on my own terms.

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