My Best Friend Married My Ex-husband — Then She Called Me in the Middle of the Night, Terrified

When Stacey married Lily’s ex-husband, Alan, it seemed like the ultimate betrayal. But a late-night call filled with terror revealed a dark secret neither woman was prepared for, forcing Lily and Stacey to confront the man who shattered both their lives.

Alan and I had been married for seven years. Seven long years that gave me two beautiful daughters, Mia (5) and Sophie (4), and left me with a heart fractured in ways I didn’t know were possible.

A couple | Source: Unsplash

A couple | Source: Unsplash

At first, Alan was my dream man. He had this magnetic charm, the kind that made people lean in just a little closer when he spoke. He knew how to make me feel like I was the only woman in the world. But that glow didn’t last.

By year five, I noticed the cracks. Alan would come home late, his excuses so thin they were practically see-through. Work trips that didn’t make sense. Texts he wouldn’t let me see. Then, one night, I got the confirmation I’d been dreading. A single blonde hair on his suit jacket. Not mine.

My heart screamed with rage. I knew something was wrong. I knew he was destroying everything we built.

A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney

A distressed woman | Source: Midjourney

I confronted him. His reaction? A cold denial, followed by an avalanche of gaslighting. “You’re imagining things, Lily. Stop being so insecure,” he yelled once.

But it wasn’t just my imagination. It was real. Silently, I vowed to myself that I would not let him make me doubt my instincts.

The final straw came when I caught him red-handed. The image of him with her — Kara, a woman I didn’t even know — was burned into my memory. He didn’t even apologize. He just packed a bag and left as though nothing had happened.

And just like that, Alan abandoned me and our daughters. For a year and a half, I struggled to rebuild my life. Therapy, late nights working to support the girls, and a constant ache in my chest that wouldn’t go away.

Then came the news that made my stomach churn: Alan had married Stacey, my best friend.

A newlywed couple | Source: Unsplash

A newlywed couple | Source: Unsplash

I couldn’t believe it at first. Stacey had been my confidante during my marriage, the one person I told everything to. She knew everything about me… about how I felt like I was losing Alan, how I feared he was cheating, and how devastated I was when he finally left.

A painful realization cut through me, “How could she do this to me?”

When Stacey called to tell me she was engaged to Alan, I froze. “You’re kidding, right?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“No,” she said. “Alan loves me, Lily. I hope… I hope we can still be friends.”

Friends? Was she serious?

“You’re marrying the man who broke me, Stacey. And you think I want to stay friends? Good luck with that.” I hung up before she could respond.

Grayscale shot of a woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney

Grayscale shot of a woman holding a phone | Source: Midjourney

I thought that was the end of it. I wanted it to be the end of it. But then, a year into their marriage, my phone rang at three in the morning, dragging me back into Alan’s world.

Groggy and annoyed, I squinted at my phone. Stacey’s name flashed on the screen. I didn’t want to believe it.

“Of all the nerve, calling me at this hour?” I muttered to myself.

I debated ignoring it. Why would she, of all people, be calling me in the middle of the night? But curiosity won out, and against my better judgment, I answered.

A phone on the bed flashing an incoming call | Source: Midjourney

A phone on the bed flashing an incoming call | Source: Midjourney

“Hello?” I said, my voice heavy with irritation.

What I heard next made me sit up straight.

“Lily, I need your help!” Stacey’s voice was frantic and barely coherent. “This concerns you more than you think. Please… don’t hang up. Please.”

My heart raced with anger and anticipation. What could she possibly want?

A woman seeing her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman seeing her phone | Source: Midjourney

“Stacey?” I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess. “What’s going on? Look, I don’t have anything to—”

“Alan… he’s not who I thought he was. He’s worse, Lily. So much worse,” she cut me off.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. What could be worse than what I already know?

“Worse? What are you talking about?” I asked.

She inhaled sharply, trying to steady her voice. “He has a wardrobe in his office. He always told me not to go in there, but yesterday I did. Lily, the inside is covered in photos. Of women. Dozens of women. Me. You. Her. And others I don’t even recognize.”

An anxious woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

An anxious woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

A cold realization crept into my thoughts. This is about to get ugly.

I gripped the phone, my stomach turning. “Photos? What kind of photos?”

My mind raced with horrifying possibilities. What could be in those photos? How had I not found them? Was this why he’d prohibited me from entering his office when we were married?

“They all have dates and numbers written on them,” she whispered. “I think… I think he’s been cheating on me. On both of us. On everyone.”

A woman holding a photograph of another lady | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding a photograph of another lady | Source: Midjourney

My throat felt dry. But I didn’t care. “Stacey, why are you telling me this? You married him. You knew what he was capable of.”

Her voice cracked. “Because I didn’t believe you! I thought you were bitter. But now, I’m scared, Lily. I don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out I’ve seen it. Please, can I come over? I don’t feel safe.”

Stacey showed up at my house less than an hour later, her face pale and drawn. She was clutching her phone like a lifeline.

“Start talking,” I said, crossing my arms. My eyes bore into her, demanding the full truth.

She sat on my couch, wringing her hands. “I went back into his office last night. After he left for a two-day fishing trip, I managed to break into the wardrobe. He keeps it locked. But I managed to open it with a screwdriver. It wasn’t just photos, Lily. There were journals. Notes about the women. Ratings. Scores. He’s been doing this for years.”

A frustated woman | Source: Pexels

A frustated woman | Source: Pexels

A twisted sense of validation burned inside me. “I always knew he was worse than he seemed,” I laughed.

“How many women?” My heart raced, dreading the answer.

“At least 40 during your marriage,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “And eight more since we got married. Eight women in just two months.”

The weight of betrayal pressed down on me, threatening to suffocate. It was like a punch to the gut. I thought I had moved on, but the betrayal felt fresh and raw.

“Why are you dragging me into this?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Because he’s the father of your daughters,” Stacey said. “Don’t you want to know who he really is? What he’s capable of? Don’t you want to expose him?”

A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney

Her words hit a nerve. As much as I hated Alan, I had to protect my girls. “Fine,” I said, grabbing my laptop. “Show me what you’ve got.”

For the next few hours, Stacey and I worked together, identifying the women in Alan’s photos. Reverse image searches online led us to their social media profiles. When we reached out and met some of them in person the following morning, most confirmed short, meaningless encounters with Alan.

My mind raced with horror and vindication. How could one person be so calculated?

One woman described him as “charming, until he wasn’t.” Another called him “cold and calculating.” Each story added a new layer to the monster I’d once called my husband.

A bitter laugh escaped me. “I should have known. I always knew something was off,” I told Stacey.

Two women sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney

Two women sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney

By dusk, she looked at me, her face pale. “What do we do now?”

“We’re not victims anymore. We’re survivors,” I declared. “We fight back.”

A dangerous glint entered my eyes, “Alan has no idea what’s coming,” I added.

When he returned from his fishing trip and found Stacey gone, his rage spilled over. He tried to show up at her new place, banging on the door, demanding answers. She called the police, and he left before they arrived.

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind. Stacey filed for divorce, cutting all ties with Alan. I reopened my custody case, armed with evidence of his behavior.

Alan didn’t take it well. He sent me a flurry of messages, first pleading, then threatening. I blocked him.

A woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels

A woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels

In court, the evidence we presented was damning. Alan’s charm couldn’t save him this time. The photos, the journals, the testimonies… every bit of it painted a clear picture of the man he truly was.

After the dust settled, Stacey and I found ourselves sitting in my living room, a quiet relief hanging between us.

“We made it through!” I said, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders

“Thank you,” Stacey said softly. “For helping me. For believing me.”

My anger softened, replaced by an unexpected understanding. We were both victims of his manipulation. But we were not weak.

A sad woman | Source: Midjourney

A sad woman | Source: Midjourney

I looked at her, the anger I’d carried for so long finally fading. “We both deserved better than him.”

A moment of shared pain and healing passed between us.

She nodded. “So… what now?”

My spirit felt renewed, ready for whatever came next. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Now, we move on. Together.”

A fierce sense of sisterhood emerged, stronger than any betrayal. And for the first time in years, I felt free. Not just from Alan, but from the pain he had caused.

Two women hugging each other | Source: Midjourney

Two women hugging each other | Source: Midjourney

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.

Peter Noone was hooking up with groupies, partying with the Rolling Stones, and in AA by the age of 19

Peter Noone was one member of the popular 60’s band, Herman’s Hermits.

With his thick head of hair and boyish charm, it would be easy to compare him to a Justin Beiber or Harry Styles of today.

However, there is one distinct difference between this former teen heartthrob and those of today…

With his adorable face and equally adorable voice, Peter Noone skyrocketed to stardom in his teens as the frontman of Herman’s Hermits. The band toured both in America and Britain and became iconic.

The band nabbed their first number 1 hit in England in 1964 with “I’m Into Something Good.” 

“Herman’s Hermits sold millions of records before anyone even saw us, which just doesn’t happen now,” Noone said.

“I didn’t know what I was doing: my stage persona was a shy little boy, which is basically what I was.”

Wikipedia Commons / Jack De Nijs

Noone and the rest of his band released more than 20 hit records and even outsold the Beatles in 1965. Some of their biggest hits included I’m Into Something Good, No Milk Today and There’s A Kind of Hush (All Over the World).

The band received a million-dollar record deal by the time they were 17, and one of the highlights of Noone’s career was when Elvis Presley performed one of their hits–”I’m Henry the Eighth, I Am”–in 1965 on stage.

“He was making fun of me, but who cares?” says Noone. “It was Elvis!”

Even at this young age, Noone was living the quintessential rocker lifestyle. 

“Although without the drugs bit,” he insists. “That was never my thing.”

But when asked about all of the other typical rock ‘n’ roll habits? 

Wikipedia Commons / Jack De Nijs

“Sure. We were 16, 17, and we could easily stay up all night, go on the rampage then be up the next morning to do interviews and go to gigs. It was a brilliant time.”

At 64, Noone is on the road again as part of Britain’s Solid Silver 60s Show. His fellow Hermits veterans will not be joining him, but other musical star of the era will–Brian Poole of The Tremeloes (“Do You Love Me” and “Twist And Shout”) and Brian Hyland (“Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini”).

“You never get tired of the buzz of touring,’ says Noone, ‘and it’s good to know we can still pull an audience. People come up to me and sing all the old songs to my face, although I’m never really sure how to respond to that.”

Noone has lived in California since the 70’s and grew quickly to the healthy living style that characterizes the state.

“Not many people survived the debauchery of the sixties,” he says, “so I feel very lucky and try to look after myself. When I went to Mickie Most’s funeral nine years ago [Most was the band’s producer and a panelist on TV talent show New Faces], there weren’t many people left. It does make you stop and think.”

Flickr / Bradford Timline

“I remember going to the house of one of the Moody Blues and it was considered this real den of iniquity,” he says. “None of the girls smoked dope, so I used to hang out with them. I was a fly on the wall.

“I did like to drink — I used to go out with Richard Harris and try to drink more than him,” Noone laughed.

“I used to love the Beatles and the Stones and I’d always want to hang out with them, even though they were about seven years older.

“We’d go to the Ad Lib club in London, and John Lennon would buy my drinks because he knew I was only 16 and I wouldn’t get drunk and try to beat someone up.”

Noone, who grew up in Manchester, has admitted that one of his major motivations for drinking was to fit in with the others, as he didn’t feel that “interesting.”

It was at the age of 19 that the musician decided to attend his first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting with his father, also an avid drinker. 

“I wouldn’t have classed myself as an alcoholic, but you have to be sensitive to people’s feelings and be able to do the job on stage, so after that I decided to cut down. I needed to do it for my own sake and haven’t touched a drop for about 16 years.

“I insist that my wife still drinks if she wants to — I wouldn’t stop other people around me doing it.”

The multi-talented entertainer has been married to his wife, Mirielle, for 43 years. They met when Noone was 20, while he was still spending time with various women. 

“I think it was probably lust at first sight with Mireille,” he admits. “Then I found out how nice she was and it turned to love.

“She kept turning me down, but she was holidaying on Ibiza with her mum, so I rented the apartment next to them. Her mother liked me because I was respectful. I wore Mireille down.”

The couple married in 1968, had one daughter (Nicole), and Noone quit the band in 1971 at the age of 24. 

“Even though all of us in the band were close in the beginning, by the end, we’d been together so long and wanted to do different things.”

Flickr / Mark

His attempted solo career plateaued, and it was in the 80s that he took to a new stage, appearing in a Broadway production on “Pirates of Penzance” and as a host on the U.S. television music show “My Generation”.

Just a few years ago, he appeared as a mentor and voice coach on American Idol.

Speaking on the show, he said, “If the Beatles had entered a TV competition, they’d probably have lost. Simon Cowell seems like a very nice guy, but I think he’s a secondhand Mickie Most to be honest.”

Speaking on the current tour again, Noone explained, “‘I was probably going to be a clerk at the local NatWest. How lucky am I to still be doing this at 64? I know what I’m doing now, too. I’m not that shy little kid any more.”

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