The Night After My Engagement, My Fiancé’s Ex-Wife Called — Her Warning Saved Me from a Major Mistake

My Fiancé’s Ex-wife Called Me on the Night after My Engagement – She Saved Me from the Biggest Mistake

Claire’s engagement night takes an unexpected turn when her fiancé’s ex-wife mysteriously issues a warning. Claire is filled with uneasy questions after receiving the unexpected call. As she investigates, she learns secrets that cause her to doubt everything she had assumed to be true about the guy she loves. Is Claire’s life ever going to be the same?

It was unbelievable to me.

In our living room, Brandon knelt and held a beautiful ring. With a quiet yet clear voice, he asked Claire, “Will you marry me?”

I excitedly nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. “Yes, Brandon! Indeed!” I cried out, gladness rising in my heart.

I grabbed him up into a tight hug as soon as he put the ring onto my finger. Overwhelmed with happiness, we both laughed and sobbed.

A few moments later, Brandon drew back just a little and met my eyes. “Claire,” he said, “there’s something I need to talk about.”

Even though I had a tiny fear, I nodded to allow him to continue.

“You know I’ve been married before,” he replied. “And as you are aware, I have never discussed her with you or introduced you to her. My former spouse was… problematic. I would prefer to put that chapter of my life behind me. I’m hoping you get it.

I reached out to take his hand because I could see the pain in his eyes. “Brandon, I get it. If you don’t want to, we can avoid talking about it.

With a look of relief on his face, he smiled. “I’m grateful, Claire. I want us to concentrate on our shared future.”

“Definitely,” I said. “This is our fresh start.”

We talked about our plans, daydreamed about our wedding, and imagined our future together for the remainder of the evening.

I took out my phone and said, “Let’s share the news.” As I was typing a Facebook post, Brandon grinned and watched: “YES! 💍 I’m eager to spend the rest of my life with Brandon, the most amazing man.”

The likes and comments poured in as soon as I put it up. Our relatives and friends were ecstatic for us, and their happiness only made us happier.

I pointed at the screen and exclaimed, “Look at all these messages,” to Brandon. “Everyone’s so happy for us.”

He laughed. “They are, of course. Claire, you’re incredible.”

My cheeks began to flush. “No, we’re amazing.”

We replied to texts and spread our joy to everyone for the next hour.

My phone rang while I was still feeling really happy about the engagement.

With the TV flickering gently in the background, Brandon had fallen asleep on the couch.

There was no number displayed on the caller ID. I answered, curious.

“Hello?”

“Claire? I apologize for the delayed call. I acquired your number from your social media accounts before you asked. I know your fiance, but you don’t know me. Marissa, I’m his ex-wife, and I need you to pay close attention. Pretend I’m an old acquaintance if he’s around. I beg you, you will lose everything you own if you don’t listen to me.”

A beat skipped in my heart. “Hello, Marissa. What is happening?”

She said, “Listen, Claire,” with urgency. “A prenuptial agreement is what Brandon will suggest. It needs to be carefully read. He’s not who you believe him to be. You are ignorant of certain things.”

I looked at Brandon, who was still soundly asleep.

My thoughts were racing. “I apologize, but now is not the right moment. Perhaps we can discuss later.”

Marissa pleaded, “Please, Claire.” “Just swear to me that you will thoroughly read it. Indeed, examine the safe. His birthdate entered backwards may be the password, and—”

I tried to hang up the phone and muttered, “I… I’ll think about it.” “Thanks for the heads up.”

I hung up the phone, shaking hands, before she could say anything more. What was the purpose of that?

Recalling Brandon’s description of his troublesome ex-wife, Marissa seemed like the “crazy” ex-wife he had warned me about, so I ignored her.

I set my phone aside and made an effort to get rid of my unpleasant thoughts. Marissa seems to be attempting to cause trouble. Brandon would never get married without a prenuptial agreement. He trusted me and loved me.

However, what if Marissa was correct? All night long, I lay in bed and thought about Marissa’s remarks.

At last, I made the decision to bring it up at breakfast.

As I was pouring him some coffee, I said, “Hey, Brandon, what do you think about prenuptial agreements?”

Brandon’s attitude became guarded as he looked up from his newspaper. He answered, “Why do you ask?”

I shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I don’t know,” “Just wondering. Some folks have told me it’s a smart concept.

With a groan, he set down the newspaper. “Well, that was my lawyer’s suggestion. He said that it’s really a formality meant to keep us both safe. We’ll discuss it further later.”

I forced a grin even though it was hard on my heart. “Ah, I see. I suppose that makes sense.

We carried on with our breakfast, but I was left with a bad taste in my mouth after the chat.

I was given the prenuptial agreement by Brandon later that afternoon. He said, “This is it,” avoiding eye contact with me. “Just have a peek. It is really typical.”

It stunned me. Thus, Marissa was accurate!

With trembling hands, I accepted the document and settled in to read it. The conditions were harsh; in the event of a divorce, I would receive very little financial support. There were strong confidentiality agreements and several behavioral clauses.

As I read each line, my heart grew heavier.

Marissa’s admonition rang in my ears as I recalled. “Read it carefully.”

Brandon kept a careful eye on me, his expression opaque. He said again, “It’s just to protect both of us.”

With a slow nod, my mind racing. “I comprehend,” I replied, attempting to maintain a calm tone. “I’ll need some time to go through it.”

“Obviously,” he replied in a rather relieved voice. “Take all the time you need.”

I could feel my confidence eroding as he exited the room. This felt less like a safeguard and more like a trap. I was taken aback by how serious the terms were, and I couldn’t shake the unsettling suspicion that Marissa was not entirely wrong in her warning.

After Brandon left the house the following day, I made the decision to look into it.

I recalled Marissa’s indication that the combination to the safe was the reverse of Brandon’s birthdate. I hesitated for a time in front of his office door before entering.

Everything had its place and the office was tidy.

With my heart thumping in my chest, I moved to the safe. I inhaled deeply and typed Brandon’s birthdate backwards.

The safe made a clicking sound and opened. My stomach churned, feeling both relieved and anxious.

He had never mentioned property deeds or bundles of cash inside. As I went through them, my hands trembled with a strong sense of betrayal. This was about trust, not simply about the money.

I required guidance. I got out my phone and sent Marissa a text. On the first ring, she responded.

“This is Claire, Marissa. I located the safe.

“Claire,” she asked in a worried tone, “what did you find?”

“Tons of cash and a few documents I don’t understand,” I stammered back.

Marissa let out a sigh. Claire, I really apologize. I experienced the same issue. I was so in love with him that I signed the prenuptial agreement without giving it any thought. After the divorce, he kept everything.”

Her remarks really got to me. “What should I do?”

“Take care of yourself,” she advised. “Avoid making the same error that I did. Brandon is skilled at controlling feelings. He will do it once more, as he has in the past.”

A tear started to fall down my cheek. “I’m grateful, Marissa. Thank you for being so open.”

“Thank you so much. She whispered softly, “I simply want to spare other women from what I went through. “Be strong, Claire.”

My thoughts was racing when I hung up. There was no denying the truth of Brandon’s dishonesty.

My decision was cemented by my own finding and Marissa’s regret. Someone who would put me in such a deceptive scenario was not someone I could stay with.

After packing my belongings, I wrote him a note.

“Brandon, I’m aware of all your falsehoods. I have all the evidence I need to expose you, so please never show your face again.

Claire.”

He disappeared from my life forever. And the hurt of betrayal started to fade as the days stretched into weeks. With the help of friends and family, I was able to restore my life little by little.