Husband Sells House with His Wife Inside, 6 Years Later They Accidentally Meet Again — Story of the Day

A homeless man begging outside a luxury hotel is stunned when he recognizes one of the guests as his ex-wife, Brittany. Six years ago, he sold their house with her still in it, but now she’s a wealthy woman with a surprising story to share with her ex-husband.

A homeless man lurked near the entrance to one of the many sleek luxury hotels lining Las Vegas’s Strip. Multicolored lights reflected in the water of a huge fountain nearby and across the highly-polished, silver car pulling up outside the main entrance.

The man stealthily approached the car. He kept one eye on the doorman, a heartless chump who'd try to chase him off once he was spotted. The chauffeur opened the back door, and the homeless man's jaw dropped when a gorgeous woman emerged from the car.

"Hey, you. How many times do I have to tell you to get lost? I'm calling the cops...they'll get rid of you once and for all!"

The homeless man flinched as the doorman bore down on him with a face like thunder. He was about to flee when the lady stepped in front of him.

"Here, take this." She smiled as she offered him a $20 bill. "Get something to eat...oh my God, Ryan?"

The homeless man felt like he'd been electrocuted. Nobody called him by his real name on the street. He'd almost stopped thinking of himself as 'Ryan,' but now this lady had come out of nowhere and recognized him. He peered closely at her.

"Brit? That can't be you, Brittany..." he whispered, disbelief turning him numb.

"You were in a wheelchair...and how did you get the money for this car, this hotel? The last time I saw you..." Ryan hung his head as shame swept through him.

"I see you're more surprised by my wealth than my healing." Brittany flipped her hair over one shoulder and sighed. "The funny part about that is I'd never have gotten where I am today if it weren't for what you did to me six years ago."

Six Years Earlier

Ryan strode into the sitting room to fetch the last box. He'd spent the last few days quietly packing and transporting his possessions to his new apartment. Today was his last day in this house. He'd hoped to leave quietly, but Brittany was waiting for him.

"How could you, Ryan?" Brittany positioned her wheelchair between him and his last box. "You sold the house without even talking to me...without even telling me!"

"I thought you'd understand." Ryan shrugged. Brit's eyes filled with tears, so he quickly averted his gaze. "I didn't want to burden you even more."

"What about the memories we made here? Our dreams for the future?" Brit reached for his hand.

"Those dreams are dead," Ryan snapped, pulling his hand away. "I can't...I can't handle it anymore, living here with you like nothing's changed. You're..." he gestured toward her wheelchair. "That accident didn't just kill our child, it killed us too."

"Don't say that!" Brittany wheeled in front of him. "You told me family is the most important thing, Ryan. I gave up a great job in New Orleans to raise our child," Brit's voice cracked, "and I...I thought at least we have each other after that accident. That we'd get through this—"

"It's hard on me, too, Brittany!" Ryan threw up his hands and whirled away from her. "Or do you think I enjoyed watching our relationship disintegrate? Getting divorced was the best for both of us and so was selling the house. The movers will be here in the morning for the furniture—"

Brittany laughed bitterly.

"Is that what I am now, furniture? You sold this house with me still in it! Never even gave me a chance to find somewhere else to go, you...you piece of—"

"I've arranged a nursing home for you, okay?" Ryan dodged around Brittany and snatched up his box. "They're equipped to take care of people like you. What more do you expect from me?"

"People like me?" Brittany whispered. "You mean people who are no longer useful to their families? God, Ryan. I can't believe you've done this to me."

Brittany's words echoed through Ryan's thoughts, but he pretended not to hear her. He loaded his last box of stuff into his truck and drove away from the ruins of his marriage, and the haunting memories of his wife and unborn child before that accident changed everything.

"This is stupid!" Brittany folded her arms and stared defiantly at Tara, the physical therapy nurse assigned to her by the nursing home. "Nothing is going to get better for me, so why bother with any of this?"

Tara sighed and set aside the medicine ball she'd held out to Brittany. "Of course, things will get better, Brittney. These exercises will help you live a fuller life—"

"Will it bring back my husband? Will it bring back my baby?" Brittany slammed her fist down on the arm of her wheelchair. "Don't talk to me about a fuller life when everyone I cared about is gone. God, my ex-husband sold our house without even telling me and dropped me here like a stray dog! You have no idea what's it like to be abandoned—"

"I do." Tara's expression hardened into a grim stare. "My husband left me for his mistress and all I got out of the divorce was a huge bill for items he'd bought in my name and defaulted on paying. That man turned my life inside out in just two days, and I'm still trying to pick up the pieces."

Brittany met Tara's gaze, silently absorbing the woman's shocking story. Since she'd arrived at the nursing home a month ago, she'd done nothing but grieve, but now she felt something shift inside her.

"They don't deserve to live a good life while we suffer," Brittany said. "We should show them what it's like to be in our shoes, don't you agree, Tara?"

Over the next few days, Tara and Brittany formed a tight friendship as they plotted the means to get revenge on their ex-husbands.

"Are you serious?" Brittany gaped at Tara as she completed her exercises. "Harold keeps papers inside the house that we could use to nail him for fraud?"

Tara nodded. "Not that it helps us much since he's changed all the locks. I can't just go in there and get them."

"Of course, you can!" Brittany exhaled sharply and set down the exercise band she'd been working out with.

"It will just take a few extra steps...in fact, I'm getting a plan already. Tara, it's time we made our move, starting with Harold. That man has bled you dry for long enough, don't you think?"

Tara gave her a bemused smile. "I'm not going to argue with that, but what do you think we can do about it?"

Brittany beckoned to Tara. "I'll explain everything."

The sportscar reversed from a parking spot just as Brittany wheeled past. She shrieked as her wheelchair spun from the impact and barely managed to keep it upright.

"What the hell!" Brittany screamed, slapping the rear of the sportscar. "Can't you see where you're going? You nearly ran right over me!"

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" The driver leaped from the car and ran to Brittany. "I didn't see you. Are you hurt?"

Brittany hyperventilated as she examined her legs. The driver's face was lined with worry and guilt as he watched her.

"I…I think I'm okay," Brittany said. "I just...that gave me such a fright! I need to get to the elevator over there," she pointed to the building's foyer, "but my nerves are so on edge now. Please, can you walk me there?"

"Of course! I'm very sorry for what happened back there."

"No harm, no foul, right?" Brittany gave Tara's ex-husband a thin smile. She resisted the urge to glance back over her shoulder to check if Tara had moved into position. Instead, she focussed on keeping Harold distracted with idle small talk as they approached the building.

Tara's hands shook as she crept up to Harold's sportscar. She watched with her heart thundering in her throat as he and Brittany moved toward the building. He seemed thoroughly distracted, and she had no time to waste.

He'd left the top down in his haste to check on Brittany so Tara had no trouble gaining access to the glove compartment. She glanced back at him and Brittany as she searched through the papers and junk accumulated in there.

They were at the building entrance now. In her rush to find what she was looking for, Tara accidentally spilled everything out of the passenger seat. She swore in frustration, but her anxiety turned to joy when she spotted Harold's keys.

Tara removed a lump of putty from her handbag and pressed Harold's key into it. She stole a glance at the building...Harold and Brittany had vanished.

Tara quickly shoved everything, including the keys, back into Harold's glove compartment and slammed it shut. She turned and sprinted down the block with the piece of putty in her hand.

"I don't know if I have the guts for all this subterfuge," Tara confessed. She and Brittany were in her car, staking out Harold's house. "I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I was getting that copy of the key."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, but think of the rewards." Brittany put a hand on her friend's arm. "He's finally going to pay for what he did to you, Tara. Doesn't that make all of this worth it?"

"It does." Tara slowly started to smile. "I just hope I get to see his face when we bring his whole world crashing down on top of him."

"That's the spirit!" Brittany raised her hand to give Tara a high-five.

"Look, there he is!" Tara pointed at Harold's house.

The women hunched in their seats as they watched Harold reverse out of his driveway. They waited five minutes after he disappeared, then Tara and Brittany raced across the street. They let themselves in using the key they'd made from the imprint Tara took and locked the door behind them.

Tara led the way to Harold's home office. She opened a cabinet, revealing a small safe.

"If he's changed the combination..." Tara frowned as she positioned her fingers on the dial.

"Then we'll still know that we did everything we could, Tara." Brittany put a hand on her friend's shoulder and nodded toward the safe.

Tara turned her eyes to the ceiling and took a deep breath. She twirled the dial to one side and then the other, entering a five-digit combination. The safe opened with a soft click.

"Oh my God, it worked!" Tara grinned. "Harold is such an idiot! Let's grab that paperwork and go!"

Tara's smile faded quickly as she scanned the folders of papers in the safe. She let out a frustrated snarl.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked.

"They aren't here!" Angry tears filled Tara's eyes as she looked at Brittany. "The records for his dummy corporations and his offshore bank accounts...it's all gone! We did all of this for nothing!"

The women were at a loss. Their plan had failed in a way they hadn't expected, and Tara was uncertain where else they might try searching for the paperwork they intended to use against Harold.

Eventually, they decided to regroup back at the nursing home and return once they'd had time to consider their next move. They headed toward the door, but loud voices and heavy footsteps sent them rushing to the bathroom to hide.

As they pushed the bathroom door shut, another door opened with a loud bang.

"Don't you live the good life, Harry?" A man with a rough voice said. "Look at all these fancy artworks, Trent. Do you reckon the boss would accept them as payment for Harry's loan?"

"Nope. He said cash only, Dave, weren't you listening?" Trent replied.

"Just trying to get outta here as quick and easy as possible, bro. Hey, check out this man's liquor cabinet!" Dave whistled. "The boss didn't say anything about not helping ourselves to his whiskey, did he?"

'Who are these guys?' Brittany mouthed to Tara as she pointed frantically at the door. Tara shrugged, put a finger to her lips, and pressed her ear against the bathroom door.

Glasses clinked together, and the men made appreciative sounds.

"Well, you heard the man, Harry," Dave said. "The boss won't be happy with anything less than cold, hard cash. What's the code for your safe?"

"There's no money in there—"

Harold broke off with a cry of pain. Tara's brow furrowed, and she looked worriedly at the door.

"Not the answer we're looking for, Harry." Dave sighed. "You know, I was really hoping to do this the easy way, but if you refuse to cooperate..."

Both women flinched at the unmistakable sound of a hard slap. Harold cried out again, but another blow cut the cry short. Brittany squeezed Tara's hand tightly as they listened to the violence echoing from the other room.

"We should sneak out while they're distracted," Brittany whispered to Tara. "They'll never even know we were here."

Tara shook her head. "What if—"

A loud crash interrupted their whispered conversation.

"Dang it, Trent, look what you did! How's the man supposed to tell us his code if he's out cold?"

"My bad...I was in the moment," Trent replied. "I'll pour a glass of water or something to wake him up."

"We can't let this continue." Tara turned to Brittany with wide eyes. "I never thought I'd say this, but we have to rescue Harold."

"How? We're no match for a bunch of thugs who beat other people up on a regular basis! I adore you, Tara, but I'm not going to die for your lousy ex."

"We won't confront them directly." Tara went to the medicine cabinet above the sink and removed a box. "All we need to do is get them out of that room long enough to put my plan into action."

Tara tiptoed from the bathroom and into the kitchen. She triggered the garage door's remote control and hurtled back into the hall. The whir of the garage door opening echoed through the house.

"You hear that?" Trent said. "Sounds like we have company."

"Let's check it out...it's not like Harry's going to run off."

Tara held her breath as she crouched behind a bushy potted plant decorating the hallway. The two men strode past her, bulky brutes covered in scars. She froze and watched fearfully as they marched round the corner toward the kitchen.

Brittany was right: they'd be goners if those two thugs got a hold of them. She had to act fast. Tara raced into the sitting room, where the sight of Harold lying unconscious on the floor made her whimper. But she didn't have time to check on him because those thugs could return any minute.

Two full glasses stood beside a bottle of Harold's best whiskey. Tara emptied the crushed sleeping pills she'd found in the bathroom into the glasses, then hurried back to the bathroom.

"Everything go okay?" Brittany asked once she'd slipped inside and shut the door.

Tara nodded. "Now, we just need to wait."

“...telling you, it must be a short in the control.”

“The timing is too perfect, Dave. I'm sure something weird is going on here. We should search the house, check nobody else is here.”

Tara and Brittany stared at each other in horror. If those thugs found them…

“You’re just being paranoid,” Dave replied. “Look, Harry’s still here, out like a light. If there was somebody else here, don’t you think they would’ve tried to rescue the guy?”

Trent mumbled something inaudible. It was followed by a crash like something had fallen to the floor.

“Save your temper for when Harry wakes up. Come on, man, sit down and have a drink. There’s nothing better to do right now.”

Tara let out a heavy sigh and slumped against the bathroom wall. Brittany put her head in her hands. For a moment there, she’d thought they were about to be caught. Her hands were still trembling with nervous energy. They listened intently as the men continued talking. Their speech started to slur, and eventually, they went quiet.

Gentle snores echoed into the hallway as Tara peeped into the sitting room. The thugs were passed out on the couch. Tara gestured to Brittany, and the two women crept over to where Harold lay.

"Oh God, this looks bad," Tara whispered as she examined Harold's wounds. "We need to get him to a hospital."

Brittany sighed.

"Okay, if we can get him over the handles of my wheelchair, it should be easier to move him to the car, right? I'm sure I can hold him steady, but can you lift him and push both of us?"

"Lifting people is part of my job, Brit. I can do it," Tara replied.

Brittany backed her chair up against the bar and put the brakes on. Meanwhile, Tara manoeuvered Harold into a position where she could lift his torso off the floor. After some struggle to manipulate Harold's limp body, the pair got him into position.

"Let's go!" Tara pushed Brit and her cargo out of the sitting room. Together, they made for a heavy load, but it was easier once they got moving.

Disaster hit when they reached the front door.

"He's stuck!" Tara exclaimed as Brit's chair veered to the left.

"Get him unstuck, fast!" Brittany glanced at Tara as she clung to Harold. "He's starting to slip."

Tara fought to free Harold's foot from the decorative metal scrollwork at the base of the coat rack beside the door. Brittany braced herself against the edge of the doorway, her face turning red from the effort of holding onto Harold while also keeping her chair steady.

"Anytime now, Tara," Brittany said through clenched teeth.

"Shoot...sorry, Harold." Tara banged the toe of Harold's shoe until it popped free from the metal curve it had gotten wedged in.

"A little help here!" Brittany cried.

The force from freeing Harold had shifted the wheelchair. Since Brittany was holding Harold, she couldn't control her chair properly and slowly rolled backward through the front door. Tara lunged toward her friend and grabbed her wheels, safely stopping her.

"I owe you big time for all of this, Brittany," Tara huffed as she pushed her friend and Harold toward her car.

"You'll pay me back when we go after Ryan," Brit replied.

Tara wheeled Brittany around to the back of her three-door hatchback. The backseat was already laid flat to accommodate Brit's wheelchair, so all they needed to do was get Harold in there.

"I'm going to open the trunk and climb inside, Brit. Then I'll pull Harold in. Do you have enough strength left to get into the car by yourself?" Tara glanced at Brit.

Brittany shook her head. "This guy weighs a ton and is as slippery as a greased pig. My arms feel like jelly."

"Okay, then I'll help you first then load the wheelchair...shoot. Brit..."

"I know. This isn't going to work. Your car is too small for an unconscious ex-husband and my chair."

Brittany scanned their surroundings. "I don't suppose we can call an ambulance and leave him here?"

"I have a better idea." Tara eyed the SUV parked in Harold's driveway. "Wait here, I'll be back in a minute."

Tara ran back into Harold's house. She tiptoed over to the sleeping thugs and anxiously held her breath as she went through their pockets. She was lucky to find their car keys in only a few minutes and hurried back to Brittany.

Tara paused just long enough to check that the keys she'd stolen from the thugs unlocked the big SUV, then she raced over to her car.

"Tara, we have a problem." Brittany stared worriedly at her. "He's bleeding."

Tara's heart stalled in her chest. She leaned over to examine the blood seeping through Harold's trousers.

"We have to hurry."

Tara pushed Brittany and Harold to the SUV. Together, the women loaded Harold into the trunk and settled him there as comfortably as possible. Then Tara helped Brittany into the passenger seat.

"See if they have a first aid kit," Tara said. "I need to bandage Harold's thigh."

Tara had just finished loading Brittany's chair into the back when Brit let out a startled gasp.

"Did you find the first aid kit?" Tara swept her hair away from her sweaty forehead and glanced to the front.

"No...but there's enough money here that you could use some as bandages if you want." Brittany looked at her wide-eyed as she held up several stacks of $100 bills.

"What the...actually, never mind. Let's just get Harold to the hospital. We can figure everything else out later," Tara said.

"Honey, I don't think there's anything to figure out." Brittany grinned as she fanned her face with several bills. "The way I see it, this is our reward for saving that jerk in the back."

Tara let out a startled laugh as she started the car. "You know what, Brit? You're right! After we drop Harold off at the hospital, let's leave our heartaches and awful exes behind us and start a new life. What do you say?"

"I say that I hear Honolulu is amazing this time of year." Brittany grinned. “I think I’ve had enough of revenge.”

Present Day

"So, Tara and I moved to Hawaii. We invested the money we found and watched it triple in the first year." Brittany smiled as though reliving a tender memory. "It was Tara who suggested I see a surgeon. I underwent an experimental treatment and here I am now!"

Ryan looked on as Brittany gestured to her legs. He was still struggling to parse the story she'd just told him. The Brittany he'd married was timid and self-effacing, nothing like the woman she'd described in her story or the one standing before him now.

"It seems like things didn't go as well for you since we split." Brittney frowned and put a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Why don't you come up to my suite? You can get cleaned up, I'll order us something to eat—"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but you can't do that!" The doorman said firmly. "This hotel has a strict code regarding our guests and we reserve the right to deny access to certain...unsavory elements."

"Mr. Doorman, thank you for doing a good job. I'll be sure to tell the front desk you tried to stop me if they have concerns about my friend," Brittany replied and marched right past the stunned doorman with Ryan in tow.

"Now, I want to hear everything that's happened to you over these past six years over dinner." Brittany smiled at Ryan. "And then we're going to discuss what I can do to help you get back on your feet."

"What? But why?" Ryan stared at his ex-wife in amazement as they entered the hotel foyer. "Why would you help me after what I did to you?"

"Because I can." Brittany shrugged.

"I did want revenge on you once, Ryan, but I moved on ages ago. I still miss our baby, but the rest of it..."

Brittany shook her head. "Tara's kindness toward Harold that day made me realize that the only person I was hurting by holding onto my bitterness was me. I didn't want to live that way, Ryan, so I let it go. Besides," Brittany grinned, “like I said, I never would’ve reached this point in my life if it weren’t for you.”

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