My Husband Borrowed $30K from My Father for His Business – Now He Claims the Deal Never Happened
When her husband betrayed her father’s trust by refusing to repay a $30,000 loan, she knew she had to teach him a lesson he’d never forget. With a fake pregnancy test and a clever plan, she turned the tables, leaving him scrambling for cash—and ultimately walked away $50,000 richer.
I grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other. My dad drove the local bus, and my mom worked as a cleaner at the local motel. We didn’t have much, but we were a happy family. My parents always worked hard and made sure my siblings and I were cared for. They taught me the importance of honesty and the value of hard work.
Then I met Tom. He was charming, full of ambition, and swept me off my feet from the moment we met. It was at a friend’s party when he first caught my attention. “You’re different,” he said, locking his clear blue eyes with mine. “I like that.” Before I knew it, we were dating, and a year later, he proposed. I thought I had found my perfect happily ever after.
Our first year of marriage was wonderful. We laughed a lot, made plans for the future, and shared big dreams. “One day, I’ll make us rich,” Tom would say with complete confidence.
My parents were happy for us, especially seeing how happy I was. They loved Tom and trusted him like he was part of the family.
Two years into the marriage, Tom came home one evening with a serious look on his face. “Babe, I’ve got this amazing idea for a business,” he said, excitement spilling into his voice. “I want to start my own auto repair shop. But I need $30,000 to get things up and running.”
I hesitated. “Tom, $30,000 is a lot. I don’t know if we should ask my dad for that kind of money.”
“It’s just a loan,” he insisted. “Your dad believes in us. I’ll pay him back within a year, I promise.”
Reluctantly, I agreed. That weekend, we sat at my parents’ kitchen table while Tom explained his business plan to my dad. “I just need a bit of help to get started, Jim,” he said, leaning in. “I’ll pay it all back, with interest if needed.”
My dad, ever the trusting soul, looked at Tom for a moment before agreeing. “Alright,” he said. “I believe in giving people a chance. But I expect you to keep your word.”
Tom shook his hand with a firm promise: he’d repay the loan in a year.
For the first few months, Tom threw himself into the business. He was working long hours, but the shop wasn’t attracting as many customers as expected. “It’s just a rough start,” he’d say. “We’ll get there.”
But time passed, and things only got worse. A year came and went, and Tom still hadn’t paid back a single dollar. One night, I brought up the loan. “Tom, you haven’t forgotten the $30,000 you owe my dad, have you?”
His face hardened. “What money?” he shot back.
“The money my dad lent you,” I said, stunned. “You promised to pay it back in a year.”
Tom’s eyes went cold. “I never borrowed any money from your dad. He must be confused.”
I was floored. He was blatantly pretending the loan never happened. The man I thought I knew was gaslighting me—and worse, he was lying to my father, the one person who had trusted him without question.
As the days went on, Tom grew more defensive, twisting the story. He started accusing my dad of trying to scam him and hinted at divorce, claiming my family was out to get him.
I was devastated. My dad, who had generously loaned Tom the money, was heartbroken. “I trusted him,” he said. “I thought he was a good man.”
I knew I couldn’t let this betrayal slide. Tom had crossed a line, and I needed to make things right—for my father, and for myself.
Then, late one night, as I lay awake, an idea hit me. It was drastic, but I was desperate. I decided to fake a pregnancy. Knowing Tom, he’d do anything to avoid paying child support for the next 18 years. I figured he’d jump at the chance for a one-time settlement.
The next morning, I called my dad to tell him about my plan. “Dad, I’m going to pretend I’m pregnant,” I said. “I think it’s the only way to get him to pay us back.”
My dad paused for a moment before replying, “If you think it’s the best way, I trust you. Just be careful.”
I borrowed a positive pregnancy test from a friend who was expecting and practiced how I’d deliver the news. I needed to make it convincing.
A few days later, I asked Tom to meet me at my parents’ house. “We need to talk,” I said.
He arrived with suspicion written all over his face. “What’s this about?” he asked.
“Sit down, Tom,” I said. “I have something important to tell you.”
I looked him square in the eye and said, “I’m pregnant.”
His face went white. “What? How…?”
I pulled out the pregnancy test and handed it to him. “It’s real, Tom. I’m going to have a baby.”
Tom stared at the test, clearly panicking. “This changes everything,” he stammered.
“Exactly,” I said. “You’ll need to pay child support for the next 18 years, unless…” I paused. “We settle this now. Give me $50,000, and we can go our separate ways—no child support, no contact.”
“Fifty thousand? Are you insane?” he shouted.
“That’s $30,000 you owe my dad, plus a little extra for the trouble,” I said calmly. “You have a week to decide.”
Tom was a wreck for the next few days, desperately scrambling for money. He called me several times, trying to negotiate, but I stood my ground.
On the seventh day, he showed up at my parents’ house, looking exhausted. He handed me an envelope. “Here. It’s everything I could get.”
I counted the money. It was all there. “Thank you, Tom. We’re done,” I said, standing up to leave.
Tom left town that night, cutting all ties. I heard through mutual friends that he disappeared without a trace.
As I sat there with the envelope in my hands, I felt a surge of pride. I had taken control, protected my dad, and walked away from a toxic marriage with $50,000. The fake pregnancy? Let’s just say it was a lesson I hoped I’d never have to repeat.