I Got a Call Saying, ‘Check Your Basement, You’ll Learn a Lot About Your Husband’

I was folding laundry when the phone rang. It was an unknown number. Normally, I wouldn’t pick up, but something in me, a gut feeling, made me answer.

A woman’s voice crackled through the line, urgent and sharp.

“Candace, you don’t know me,” she said. “But I strongly suggest you check the basement of your house. You’ll learn a lot about your husband. The door will open if you press the fifth brick to the right of the wooden cabinet.”

Before I could ask who she was, she hung up. I stood there, holding a mismatched sock, my heart thudding in my chest. I glanced around in our cozy new home. My husband, Nick, had handled all the construction, insisting that I stay out of it.

“It’ll be a surprise,” he’d said with a grin.

And it was fine with me because Nick was in construction and design, so I trusted him completely. When the renovations were over, Nick was right about it being a surprise. It was cozy with just the right blend of rustic charm and modern elements that spoke to Nick’s artistic side.

I loved how our home turned out.

But now I felt a creeping dread as I looked toward the basement door.

“You’re being paranoid, Candace,” I told myself. “This is probably just another prank because kids are stupid these days.”

But there was something about the woman’s voice. She had an edge to her voice that I couldn’t ignore; there was a seriousness that sent a chill down my spine.

“Nope,” I said. “Let’s go see if there’s any truth to what she was on about.”

I put down the laundry and made my way downstairs.

The basement was cool and quiet, and we hadn’t really done much with it yet. I had wanted Nick to turn it into an office space for us both.

“It will be better, honey,” I said. “It’s away from everyone and everything during the day. And when we have kids, we’ll be able to remove ourselves from the noise.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” Nick agreed. “Let’s just finish doing the pool area, and then we can focus on this.”

So far, we had only left a couch, a bookshelf, and a wooden cabinet, the same cabinet that the woman had mentioned, in the basement. When I walked down the stairs, I counted five bricks to the right and pressed the brick the woman told me to.

There was a faint click that almost had me fainting.

Behind me, a section of the wall slid open. A door. My breath caught in my throat.

“What the actual heck is this?” I exclaimed.

I had absolutely no idea this was here. Why didn’t Nick mention it?

I stepped inside, my hand groping for a light switch. When I found it, I flipped the switch and was stunned by what I saw.

I was standing inside a fully furnished room.

But that wasn’t even the best part of it.

The room was a bedroom, decked out entirely in shades of red. Deep red silk sheets on a king-sized bed. Plush crimson carpet. Velvet curtains in the same rich hue. A flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. Even a mini-fridge stocked with champagne and snacks.

“Okay, what the hell?” I asked myself.

My eyes traveled to a dresser in the corner, and a sinking feeling took hold in my stomach.

Honestly, what could be in this dresser that wasn’t incriminating?

With shaky hands, I opened the dresser drawers to find them filled with women’s lingerie. All delicate lace and smooth satin, all in various shades of red and black.

I lifted a pair with trembling hands. None of this was mine.

“Who? What? Why?” I shouted to the room.

Why on earth would my husband set up a secret bedroom down here if he wasn’t up to nonsense? Why would he need all of these expensive things? And the secrecy?

Nick is cheating.

Nick had been so meticulous about this house, so secretive about his little projects, that I never questioned any of it. But now it suddenly made sense, why he was always encouraging me to go on all those business trips. And as a food writer, there were a lot of long nights and business trips.

“Oh goodness,” I told myself as I clutched my stomach.

I felt sick. I sank down onto the edge of the bed, the silky sheets cool under my fingertips. How many times had he brought someone here? While I was working to build our future, he was living a lie, right under my nose.

I knew I needed proof. I needed to catch him in the act.

I couldn’t confront him without any evidence because my husband was a smooth talker. He would probably lie and say that the room had been there along and belonged to the people who owned the house before us.

I called him.

“Hey, honey,” I said. “I’ve just gotten a last-minute call from a hotel. They’re presenting a new menu tonight, so that means I’ve got to be there to write about it. I’m packing now, and I’ll head out in an hour or two.”

There was a pause.

“That’s a bit rushed, Candace,” Nick said. “But I guess when work calls, you’ve just got to go. I’ll see you when you get back. Be safe!”

I could almost hear the relief in his voice. He thought he was in the clear and that he would have the house to himself.

Perfect.

I packed my toiletries in a bag and hid them away in my closet, just in case Nick noticed that they were still in the bathroom. Then, I slipped into the basement, ready to just sit in the red room of doom while he made his way home.

Sitting there, I wondered what type of woman would willingly come to a place like this. I wondered if his women knew that he was married. I wondered what they thought about me.

That evening, around six, I heard the front door open and close. There were footsteps and laughter. And soon, the voices got louder as they made their way down to the basement.

I quickly hid in the closet, which only had two red gowns, and left the door cracked just enough to see.

They entered the room, giggling like teenagers sneaking around. My blood boiled hearing them.

“Oh, Nick,” the woman said. “I love coming to this place. It makes me forget everything about the world.”

Nick laughed and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck.

It was only when Nick led her to the bed that I realized who the woman was. Rachel, the wife of Nick’s boss! I’d met her a few times before at company parties, and she always seemed so lovely and utterly obsessed with her husband.

“Well, now she’s obsessed with your husband,” I muttered to myself.

Things were getting heated on the other side of the closet door, which was why I had to jump out and put an end to the cheating.

“Surprise!” I exclaimed.

Rachel fell away from Nick, and he turned to me, his face draining of color.

“I found your playroom, Nick,” I said nonchalantly. “It’s great.”

Nick’s mouth opened and closed, no words coming out, just stuttering noises. Rachel started crying, mascara running down her face. It was pathetic.

“I can explain, darling,” he said.

“Nope, stop talking,” I said. “You’ve done more than enough. I want a divorce. And I will clean you out for everything you have. You can keep this disgusting house, but I’m taking everything else.”

I walked past them and headed up the stairs, furiously typing an email as I went.

Nick’s boss needed to know the truth about his employee… and his wife.

Naturally, Nick lost his job. I’ve moved on now, and as I promised, I took Nick for everything he owned. Except the house.

The last thing I heard was that he had to sell it to pay for a small apartment somewhere. The one thing I never did quite find out, though, is who was the woman who called me.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:

Husband Talked in His Sleep — I Was Stunned When I Uncovered His 20-Year Secret Because of It

When Liz’s husband, Jack, talks in his sleep, he says something that piques her curiosity. Following his words, she decides to search the basement that he spoke about in his sleep. What she doesn’t expect is for her marriage to implode due to the contents of an old suitcase.

When my husband, Jack, is very tired, he talks in his sleep. After almost 20 years of marriage and raising two kids, I’d gotten used to his sleepy mumblings. They were generally harmless little things, often about work, fishing, or his car.

But last night, something he said made the hair on my arms stand on end.

“Don’t go into the basement,” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

I sat up in bed, my heart pounding. A few minutes later, he mumbled again.

“Liz, don’t open this.”

Then, with a final murmur, he sighed deeply.

“They’ll find out about the suitcase.”

What suitcase? What was this man talking about?

The next morning, I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that had overcome me. Over breakfast, as I tossed eggs around in a pan, I decided to bring it up.

Read the full story here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.