My Ex’s Uncle Is Obsessed With Me After Divorce

The 3 AM storm hammered against the windows with deafening force. Nyla jerked awake from a nightmare, her body drenched in cold sweat.

Her hand instinctively reached toward the empty space beside her. The cold sheets made her heart sink.

"Clark?" she called softly.

No response.

Wrapping her silk robe around herself, Nyla padded barefoot toward the study. Clark had said he'd be working late. The door was slightly ajar. She pushed it open gently.

Darkness. Complete darkness. Even the desk lamp was off. The papers on the desk sat perfectly arranged, as if untouched.

Her phone suddenly chimed with a Facebook notification. A friend request from an unknown user. The profile picture showed a blurry female silhouette.

Anonymous User: "Your husband not keeping you company? He's keeping me company because I'm scared of thunder 😘"

Nyla stared at the screen. Her heart pounded wildly. Her thumb hovered over the "Decline" button. But more messages kept coming.

Anonymous User: "Want to know where Clark is right now? I can give you the exact address."

Anonymous User: "This necklace is so beautiful. He said there's only one like it in the world ❤️"

The last message included a selfie. Nyla recognized her immediately. Clark's new secretary, Jordyn. The woman wore a sweet smile and a diamond necklace around her neck.

The exact same necklace Nyla was wearing right now.

Nyla's hands began to tremble. She remembered that rainy night three months ago. She'd been working late in the lab until dawn and called Clark to pick her up.

"Nyla, I really can't leave right now. There's an emergency at the company. Just take a cab home."

The next day, she heard from one of Clark's other subordinates that Jordyn had also worked late that night. Clark had not only personally driven her home but also bought her hot milk so she wouldn't catch cold.

At the time, Nyla had defended Clark. "He's the boss. It's normal for him to care about his employees. Don't overthink it."

Then there was her birthday last month. Clark had given her this "one-of-a-kind" custom necklace. She'd cried with joy and couldn't bear to take it off. Until last week, when she saw an identical box in the car's trunk.

"What's this?" she'd asked curiously.

"Oh, a gift for an important client." Clark's answer was casual as he quickly put the box away.

Now she realized it wasn't for a client at all. It was for Jordyn. The necklace in the photo was identical to hers, down to the last detail.

Most ironic of all were these past three months of pregnancy preparation. She'd given up alcohol and coffee, took folic acid daily, carefully calculated her ovulation cycle, and made regular hospital visits. Every time she excitedly shared the doctor's advice with Clark, he'd be scrolling through his phone.

"Clark, the doctor says we should try harder this week."

"Nyla, I'm handling important emails. Can we talk about this later?"

She'd thought he was just stressed from work, that's why he seemed impatient. Now she understood. He'd simply been giving his patience and tenderness to someone else.

Her phone buzzed again:

Anonymous User: "1247 Rosewood Heights, password 3856. Come see what your loving husband is up to."

Nyla bit her lip hard. Her thumb hesitated on the screen for a full minute before finally clicking "Accept Friend Request."

Twenty minutes later, she drove through the storm. Her hands gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. When the GPS showed five minutes remaining, she almost turned back. But reason told her if she backed down now, she'd never know the truth.

Nyla's fingers trembled as she entered the password. The living room was brightly lit, but the sight that greeted her nearly made her suffocate.

From the entrance to the staircase, scattered clothing lay everywhere. A man's Armani suit jacket, a woman's lace lingerie, and a men's leather shoe she knew all too well. Those were the limited edition Oxford shoes Clark had bought last month. He'd said, "These shoes are too precious. I'll only wear them for very important occasions."

So the "important occasion" was cheating with another woman.

Nyla crept upstairs. Each step felt like walking on knife blades. At the stair landing, she saw a torn red silk nightgown. The same one Jordyn wore in the selfie.

The master bedroom door was half-open. Sounds that made her face burn with shame drifted from inside.

"God, Clark... just like that..."

"You're so beautiful, Jordyn."

Nyla's legs gave out instantly. She had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. Through the crack in the door, she saw them on the messy bed. Clark was passionately kissing a blonde woman's neck. Both were naked, completely shameless.

Nyla gripped the doorframe. Her nails dug deep into her palms. The pungent scent of perfume wafted from the room, mixed with the intimate sounds inside. The storm outside instantly reminded her of that stormy night three years ago.

She'd had a 39-degree fever then, curled up on the sofa at home, shivering uncontrollably. She'd called Clark, her voice barely audible.

"Clark, I have a terrible fever... Can you come home and stay with me?"

"Jesus Christ, Nyla! I'm handling a twenty-million-dollar project right now. Can you stop causing me trouble at critical moments? Just take some fever medicine."

He'd hung up roughly. She'd burned with fever for two whole days, alone.

But just last week, when Jordyn coughed lightly in the office, Clark immediately dropped his work and personally drove her to a private clinic. He even had fever medicine air-shipped from France. At the time, Nyla had thought, "He's such a good boss, caring so much about his employees."

Now she understood. Care was selective.

More memories she'd chosen to ignore flooded back like a tide.

At the college welcome dance, several drunk upperclassmen had surrounded her with ill intentions. Clark appeared just in time, pulling her behind his suited frame. "The lady is with me. Back off." She'd thought she'd met her prince charming then.

But at last month's charity gala, when a middle-aged investor got handsy with Jordyn, Clark stepped in the same way. "Sir, I believe the lady said no." The protective stance was identical. The gentle look in his eyes exactly the same.

Two years ago, when she was hospitalized for appendicitis, Clark had canceled an important merger meeting. He'd stayed by her bedside for three days and nights, his eyes bloodshot from exhaustion. "Don't worry, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

But last year when her father had a sudden heart attack, she'd called Clark through her tears.

"Dad's in the ICU... I need you here."

"I'm sorry, Nyla, but we're in the middle of a critical acquisition. I can't just drop everything. I'll transfer some money for the medical bills."

She'd made excuses for him then. "He's under too much work pressure. The company needs him." Looking back now, it was simply because her father held no value for his career.

But what broke her heart most was during her period of total dedication to her research project.

Whenever she worked late in the lab, Clark would appear with hot coffee. "Don't push yourself too hard, sweetheart. Just focus on your research, I'll handle everything else."

Those tender words made her feel like the happiest woman in the world. She worked even harder, hoping to make him proud.

Until one day she accidentally saw Clark's message in the family group chat:

Clark: "Nyla's research project is almost complete. Once it's published, my position in the company will be unshakeable. Grandfather will have to acknowledge my contributions."

Clark: "Having a brilliant wife definitely has its advantages 😏"

Every late-night experiment report she'd written, every carefully designed proposal, had all been mere chips in his game for family power. Her talent, her efforts, her love - they were all just calculated investments to him.

Eight years of relationship. From innocent campus romance to a grand wedding. She'd thought it was two hearts growing closer together. It turned out to be her solo performance all along.

Jordyn's screams and Clark's low laughter echoed from the room. Each sound stabbed into her heart like a knife. She couldn't bear it anymore. She turned and stumbled down the stairs, pushed through the front door, and rushed into the storm.

Rain instantly soaked through her robe, but she felt no cold.

She had to leave. Leave completely. Leave this man who'd made her love until she lost herself, only to betray her ruthlessly in the end.

Her trembling fingers dialed Clark's number.

"Clark..." She fought to control the tremor in her voice. "I'm not feeling well. Can you come home?"