Ex-wife Revenge

Emma POV Everything was perfect. Everything around me was perfect. The morning started like any other, with the soft hum of the dishwasher in the background and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. Our home was a sanctuary, a place where laughter and love intertwined seamlessly with our marriage being perfect, a fairy tale that had come to life. It was a laundry day and I had to wash before going to work. I was sorting clothes into piles when my phone vibrated—it was my friend Mia. "Emma, how’s the prep going for your husband's birthday party?" she asked just as I reached for Noah's jacket, the last item in the pile. Balancing the phone against my cheek with my shoulder, I reached into Noah's jacket pockets—a habit I had formed over the years to make sure nothing important got washed. "Noah decided against a banner, so we’ll skip that. But we’re having flowers and some drinks," I replied, my fingers brushing against something cold and smooth in the pocket—a fo

I left my office in a daze, the weight of the day's suspicions pressing heavily on my mind. I drove to my son's school, my thoughts tangled in a web of anxiety and uncertainty. The late afternoon sun cast a long shadow across the parking lot as I parked and made my way to the front entrance. Standing there, I tried to shake off the thoughts of my husband and the nagging doubt that had followed me all day. I needed to be present for my son, to focus on him, and leave my worries behind, at least for a little while. Other parents were milling about, chatting with their children, and checking their phones. I managed a few polite nods to the children saying hi to me, but my mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the morning. The lipstick on his jacket and the hairline on the scarf discovery chipped away at the trust I once had in my marriage. I scanned the crowd until I spotted my son, his backpack bouncing as he ran towards me. His face lit up with a smile that momentarily p

An uneasy feeling washed over me, heavy as a storm cloud pressing against my chest. I hesitated, every nerve screaming that I shouldn’t but temptation won. Slowly, I picked up his phone. The screen lit up instantly. No lock screen. No passwords. Wide open. My pulse quickened. What man in this century leaves his phone unguarded unless he has something to prove or something to hide? Then the soft creak of the door behind me. My breath snagged. I panicked, dropping the phone back on the nightstand with a small thud. He walked in, peeling his shirt from his body, acting as if nothing was wrong. “Thank you for the dinner,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like glass. “You’re welcome,” I replied, forcing a smile that trembled on my lips. But the moment I turned from him, the smile dissolved, leaving only the raw truth etched across my face. “I will go and wash first,” he said, heading for the bathroom. “Okay,” I murmured, eyes following him until the door closed behind hi

My chest felt like it had been crushed, my heart splintered into a thousand jagged pieces. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill over, each one carrying a shard of the truth I had long feared. The receptionist’s words replayed relentlessly in my mind “She really missed her son. The last time he visited was on New Year’s Day. He only called from time to time.” Every confident word Noah had spoken ‘I’ve been coming here for a while now. She’s not doing well, so I come here almost every day’ clanged against the echo of reality, a cruel, mocking melody. My right hand trembled as I pressed it to my face, trying to staunch the tears, trying to reconcile the version of reality he had shown me with the one I had just been told. Before I knew it, a single tear escaped. Then another. A burning trail ran down my cheek, marking my crumbling heart. Panic surged, threatening to swallow me whole. I couldn’t let anyone see this side of me, the fragile, broken part clawing i

Within moments, I introduced Noah properly, explaining his work, but then something caught my attention—Mrs. Walton’s gaze lingered on him longer, as if heaven itself existed in his face. There was hunger in her smile, an intent in her eyes that made my stomach knot.We left the men for their business discussion and entered the hall. A waitress approached, balancing a tray of wine glasses. Mrs Walton reached for the tray and handed me one.“You even have a handsome husband who's younger than you. My gosh, you really have everything.”Her words landed like a slap across my face, but I was equally skilled at returning the blow.“He's the same age as me,” I said, eyes drifting to the wine. It's so eerily similar to the one Noah had brought home days ago.“Oh really? He is so handsome, very younger than his age,” she murmured.“Yes,” I replied softly, keeping my gaze locked on the table, trying to hide the storm raging beneath my skin.“Oh right. Dr. Emma, she's Isabella, my daughter.”I