They told me I was being “petty” about his affair because they didn’t want to lose access to his luxury beach house. They didn’t realize that the house—and his entire fortune—was built on a criminal lie.
When I divorced “Richard” after finding him in bed with our 22-year-old au pair, I expected my family to rally behind me. Richard had destroyed our ten-year marriage, humiliated me, and left me to pick up the pieces.
But Richard had something I didn’t: money. Obscene amounts of it. Or so it seemed.
Richard owned a sprawling estate in the Hamptons and a private jet, and he frequently treated my parents to lavish vacations. He was their “Golden Goose.” So, when the divorce was finalized, my mother didn’t offer a shoulder to cry on. She offered a suggestion.
“You really need to be more civil to Richard,” she said. “He’s still family. And we don’t want to make things awkward for the annual Christmas party at the beach house.”
The Ultimatum
I stared at her. “Mom, he cheated on me. He’s bringing the nanny to the party. You expect me to go and pretend everything is fine?”
“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” my father chimed in. “He’s a generous man. He’s willing to let bygones be bygones. You should swallow your pride. We aren’t giving up that venue just because you can’t control your emotions.”
They made their choice. If I couldn’t “behave,” I wasn’t invited. They chose the Cheating Ex over their own daughter because they liked the open bar and the ocean view.
The Silent Holiday
Christmas Day was brutal. I sat in my small apartment, eating takeout Chinese food and watching holiday movies alone. My phone was silent. I knew exactly where they were: sipping Dom Pérignon in Richard’s glass-walled dining room, probably laughing about how “bitter” I was.
I checked Instagram. My sister posted a story: #HamptonsChristmas #Blessed. In the background, I saw my dad toasting Richard. It made me sick.
Then, at 8:30 PM, the phone rang. It was my mom. I almost didn’t answer, but I thought maybe she was calling to apologize. I picked up. She wasn’t apologizing. She was screaming.
The Raid
“Sarah! Sarah, pick up! Oh my god!” In the background, I heard chaos. Men shouting. Glass breaking. Sirens.
“Mom? What’s going on?”
“The police! The FBI! They’re everywhere!” she shrieked. “They kicked in the front door! They have Richard in handcuffs on the lawn!”
I turned on the TV and flipped to the news. There it was. Breaking News. Helicopter footage showed the “luxury beach house” surrounded by tactical vehicles. “Tech Mogul Arrested in Massive $500 Million Ponzi Scheme.”
The Truth
It turns out, Richard wasn’t a genius investor. He was a fraud. He had been running a massive Ponzi scheme for five years. The beach house, the cars, the jewelry—it was all bought with stolen money. And the “investors” he had scammed? They included his friends, his business partners… and my parents.
My dad had secretly invested his entire retirement fund—$600,000—with Richard just three months ago, thinking he was getting an “insider deal” because of the family connection.
The Aftermath
The FBI seized everything. The beach house is now government property. Richard is looking at 20 years in federal prison. The nanny? She was arrested too, as an accomplice for helping him hide assets.
My parents were detained for questioning because they were so deeply entangled in his finances. They were released at 4:00 AM, broke and humiliated. They Ubered to my apartment because their car (which was parked at the scene) was impounded as evidence.
My mom stood at my door, mascara running down her face, shivering. “Can we come in?” she sobbed. “We lost everything. Dad’s retirement is gone. We need a lawyer.”
I looked at them. I thought about my lonely Christmas dinner. I thought about them calling me “dramatic” for refusing to break bread with a cheater.
“I’m sorry,” I said, holding the doorframe. “I don’t have a guest room. I’m sure Richard can help you. He’s ‘still family,’ right?”
I closed the door. I haven’t spoken to them since. They sold their soul for a beach house view, and now they’re left with nothing but the sand in their shoes.
