A woman has recounted the devastating story of how she discovered her fiancé had been lying about his entire life just weeks before their wedding.
Most of us are guilty of telling the odd white lie when dating, but how far would you go in order to impress a potential significant other?
For Megan Clarke, 27, she thought she’d found her happy ever after when she begun a relationship with Lord Bertie Underwood, a charming horologist (someone who makes and repairs watches).
Although she wasn’t looking to settle down, Megan – who was 20 years old at the time and working as a bar manager on the Isle of Wright – was soon swept off her feet by the dashing Lord, who treated her to luxurious date nights and invited her to live in his lavish seafront home.
“He was charming, kind, thoughtful, loving. A real gentleman,” Megan recounted of their relationship during an interview with Metro.
The relationship moved quickly. Within a month the pair had said ‘I love you’ and Bertie would pop the question six months later, surprising Megan with a Cartier diamond ring.
However if things sound almost too good to be true, there’s a chance that something more sinister is lurking beneath the surface.
Bertie would request that Megan didn’t post his face on social media, claiming it was because of his dad’s high-ranking career in the navy (which in hindsight should be the second red flag after the name ‘Lord Bertie Underwood’).
However the fairytale would begin to unravel when Megan noticed letters arriving at their home under various different names. Bertie claimed they were for previous tenants, but the former bar manager was not convinced and decided to investigate further.
What Megan then discovered would bring her world crashing down entirely.
However not everything was as it seemed.
Megan later discovered that Bertie had multiple bank cards under various aliases and after googling the names, she uncovered that her Lord actually had a long track record for fraud, using names such as Robert Doughty and Robert Soanes-Madejski to get away with his crimes.
The truth devastated Megan, who would be dealt another crushing blow once the pair split – with ‘Bertie’ having racked up around £30,000 of debt in her name.
“We went to the police and action fraud,” she recalled to The Sun. “[But] unfortunately there wasn’t a great deal they could do.”
Megan has since worked to pay off the debts and rebuild her life while ‘Bertie’ has since been arrested on fraud charges and sentenced to five years in prison. However he escaped in 2022 and currently remains on the run.
The fact that ‘Bertie’ is now on the run is something which has left Megan unsettled, as she added to Metro that she would ‘freeze’ if she encountered him on the street.
Megan’s story appears as part of the series Love Cheats, which is available to watch on Channel 4.
MY HUSBAND LEFT ME WITH KIDS AND ALL THIS HEAVY LUGGAGE TO GET HOME ON MY OWN WHILE HE HUNG OUT WITH FRIENDS – THE LESSON I TAUGHT HIM WAS HARSH.
The roar of the airplane engines faded into the background as I stepped off the plane, two tired toddlers clinging to my legs. I scanned the crowd, expecting to see Tom, my husband, his familiar smile a welcome sight after a long flight. But he wasn’t there.
I called him, my heart sinking with each unanswered ring. Finally, he picked up, his voice casual, almost breezy. “Hey, honey! How was the flight?”
“Where are you?” I asked, my voice tight. “You were supposed to pick us up.”
“Oh, right!” he said, a hint of sheepishness in his tone. “Mike called. He’s in town, and we decided to grab a drink. Just for a few hours. You can manage, right?”
“Manage?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Tom, I have two toddlers, a stroller, and three heavy suitcases. I can’t ‘just manage’!”
“Come on, it’s just for a few hours. You can manage,” he replied again, dismissing my concerns with a wave of his voice.
I hung up, my anger a burning ember in my chest. He had abandoned me, his family, for a few hours of drinks with a friend. I felt a surge of resentment, a feeling that had been simmering for years, now boiling over.
The next few hours were a blur of chaos. I struggled to wrangle the kids, their tired whines echoing through the airport. I wrestled the stroller, a monstrous contraption designed to fold with the dexterity of a Rubik’s Cube, and lugged the suitcases, each one a testament to the sheer volume of “essential” items toddlers require.
By the time I finally made it home, I was exhausted, my body aching, my patience frayed. But as I collapsed onto the couch, a plan began to form in my mind. Tom had underestimated me. He had assumed I would simply accept his dismissive attitude, his blatant disregard for my time and effort. He was wrong.
The next day, I woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. I packed a small bag, kissed the kids goodbye, and left a note on the kitchen table.
“Gone to visit a friend. Will be back when I feel like it. You can manage, right?”
I drove to a nearby spa, a place I had always wanted to visit but never had the time or money for. I spent the day indulging in massages, facials, and manicures, reveling in the quiet solitude.
I turned off my phone, ignoring the barrage of calls and texts from Tom. I wanted him to experience what I had experienced: the feeling of being abandoned, of being taken for granted.
The next day, I went shopping, buying myself a new outfit, a pair of designer shoes, and a luxurious handbag. I spent the evening at a fancy restaurant, savoring a delicious meal and a glass of wine.
I returned home late that night, to find Tom pacing the living room, his face etched with worry. The kids were asleep, the house a mess.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, his voice laced with anxiety.
“Out,” I replied, my voice cool.
“Out? All day? All night?”
“Yes,” I said, “I needed some time to myself.”
“But… but the kids,” he stammered. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“You managed,” I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with confusion and a dawning realization. “You… you did this on purpose.”
“Yes, Tom,” I said, “I did. I wanted you to understand what it feels like to be left alone, to be taken for granted.”
He looked down at his feet, shamefaced. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t think…”
“That’s the problem, Tom,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “You didn’t think. You assumed I would always be there, always manage, no matter what.”
He nodded, his eyes filled with remorse. “I understand,” he said. “I won’t do it again.”
I looked at him, searching his eyes for sincerity. I saw genuine regret, a flicker of understanding.
“Good,” I said. “Because I won’t tolerate it again.”
From that day on, Tom was a changed man. He became more attentive, more considerate, more appreciative of my time and effort. He learned that partnership meant sharing the load, not dumping it all on one person.
And I learned that sometimes, a little bit of payback can go a long way in teaching a valuable lesson.
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