Chapter 1: Welcome to my Humiliation

Diana

I’d spent the entire night and day begging my own husband to make love to me, desperate for even a little affection from the man who was supposed to love me.

For months, I’d tried everything I could— even the ones Kathy suggested— from wearing revealing dresses and making myself look irresistible to finding subtle ways to seduce the man I was wearing his ring, hoping he might finally look at me as his wife rather than a stranger sharing his home. But nothing ever worked.

Whenever I tried to get close to him— he would tell me to stop disgracing myself. Sometimes— he would simply walk away, muttering under his breath that he had far more important things to deal with other than “sex.”

My growing urge had driven me to spend nearly three hours browsing the Girlshub page on i*******m for the perfect vibrator and dildo. Just as I was about to complete my order, a soft knock interrupted me, followed by Kathy’s voice.

“Mrs. Grant, I need to speak to you about something urgently and… dinner is also ready.”

I combed my fingers through my hair, and released a shaky breath. Kathy had been my personal maid and closest confidante since I married into the Grant family, and she would never ask to speak to me in such a hushed tone unless something was seriously wrong.

“Just a minute, please,” I called out as I quickly completed my order and shoved my phone beneath my pillow before slipping out of bed to open the door.

Kathy stood there in her neat grey uniform, hands clasped tightly in front of her, eyes worried.

“What is it?” I asked, already bracing myself for whatever she had to say.

Kathy glanced down the hallway before stepping closer and lowering her voice.

“I overheard Mr. Grant speaking with Rampson earlier this evening,” she paused, glancing back at the door.

My chest rose and fell in anticipation.

“Finish your word, Kathy.”

“ He instructed him to pick… Miss Jasmine up from the airport.”

Jasmine? I never heard him mention that name before.

“Who is she?” I asked, my fingers tightening around the doorframe.

Kathy hesitated. “I don’t mean to upset you—”

“Just tell me, Kathy. I’m fine.”

She studied my face for a moment. As if deciding whether to tell me or not.

“Jasmine is his ex-lover... From before he married you. He instructed the new cleaner to prepare the east wing before her arrival. Apparently…she’ll be staying for a while.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “What?…Stay? Here, in this house?”

“Yes, Mrs. Grant.”

My stomach twisted, I couldn't believe my own ears. My… husband bringing his former girlfriend here in our house. While I was here.

“Did he say anything else?”

Kathy shook her head quickly. “No. Only that he wanted everything perfect for her arrival.”

And Lawrence never cared to inform me.

I forced a thin smile. “Thank you for the information, Kathy.”

She hesitated, eyes full of that pity I hated seeing. “Do you need anything, Mrs. Grant?”

“No. Just…. I’ll be down shortly for dinner.”

The moment the door closed, I leaned against it, breathing hard.

Could Jasmine be the reason Lawrence had been treating me like I never existed?

I quickly slipped into a cream silk dress that hugged my curves just enough to remind him that I still existed and left my hair loose, the way he once claimed to like.

I was halfway down the stairs toward the dining room when Lawrence’s voice stopped me.

“Diana.”

I turned to find him standing behind me, dressed in a two-piece silk set that made him look unfairly attractive. The soft fabric traced every hard line of him, including the unmistakable shape of his cock, and my clit pulsed in traitorous response. Unfortunately, his good looks did nothing to soften the coldness in his eyes, which swept over me briefly before moving away as though I were hardly worth a second glance.

“I’d like us to have dinner when my guest arrives,” he said. “She’s an important guest, so we’ll wait for her before eating.”

I blinked at him, struggling to believe what I’d just heard.

“And who is this important guest you never bothered telling me about all day?”

“I’m not in the mood for a lengthy explanation.”

I scoffed. “Then I won’t wait for your guest. I’m hungry.”

“Diana.”

“Lawrence.”

I was about to head straight to the dining room when the front doors opened.

Rampson stepped inside, carrying a designer handbag, followed by a tall, curvy woman who looked as though she’d recently recovered from liposuction. She had an elegant presence, dressed in a white pantsuit that made her look like she belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine.

Behind her, two men carried four large pink boxes, carefully stacking them in the foyer as though they contained priceless treasures.

Obviously, this was Jasmine, the so-called business partner.

She lifted her gaze, spotted Lawrence, and smiled with slow, effortless confidence.

Lawrence’s expression softened. The cold mask he’d worn around me moments ago vanished as he stepped forward and pulled her into a brief hug, his face breaking into a smile I hadn’t seen in months.

My hands clenched into fists involuntarily.

“Jasmine,” he said, voice warmer than I’d heard all day. “You’re welcome .”

“Thank you, Law,” she replied happily.

She turned her head slightly and her eyes found me.

“You must be Diana,” she said with a polite smile that somehow felt pitiful. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I shot her a sharp look, imagining myself slapping that smile right off her face for daring to speak my name so casually.

“I wasn’t aware we were expecting company,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Especially not someone who needs four boxes for a little ‘business’ visit.”

Lawrence’s jaw tightened. “Jasmine is a vital partner in the Singapore deal. She’ll be staying in the east wing for a while. Don’t make a scene out of it, Diana.”

“Oh, the east wing,” I repeated.

The suite that shared a private door with his study.

Jasmine’s gaze drifted over my dress, my face, my left hand where the heavy diamond ring sat like a beautiful lie.

“I hope I’m not imposing.”

“Of course not,” Lawrence answered for me. “This is your home for as long as you need.”

Those words stung more than a slap ever could. A short, bitter laugh escaped me;

“Is that so? Funny, because I don’t recall anyone asking how I felt about my husband’s ex-lover moving into our home.”

Lawrence’s eyes flashed with anger. “Diana, who the hell told you Jasmine is my ex?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly struggling to contain his frustration.

“Oh please,” I murmured, letting out a humorless laugh.

“Listen, Diana. You’re not going to do this here.”

“Then where?” My voice rose, the hurt I’d been trying to contain finally spilling over. “In private? The same private where you tell me to stop disgracing myself when I try to be a wife?”

Jasmine had the decency to look away, but not before I caught the faint, satisfied curve of her lips.

Lawrence stepped closer, voice low and cold. “You are making a scene.”

“I’m making a scene?” I gestured at the four boxes. “You brought another woman into our home… with enough luggage for a permanent stay and you expect me to smile and pour her coffee…?”

“Enough!” Lawrence’s voice cracked through like a whip. “If you can’t control yourself, go upstairs…Jasmine is staying, and your opinion doesn’t matter.”

I stared at him for a long moment, my teeth clenched so tightly my jaw ached. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Instead, I shifted my gaze to the woman standing beside him, looking far too comfortable, as though she already belonged in my home.

This was it. The greatest mistake of my life.

I should never have let my family pressure me into marrying Lawrence Grant.

Without another word, I turned and walked past them, heading straight for the front door. I overheard Jasmine muttering something, to which Lawrence replied,

“She’ll be fine.”

I stopped for half a second, my hand resting on the doorknob.

Of course, I would be fine.

I had survived months of neglect from a man I called my husband. Surely, I could survive watching him welcome the woman he once loved into our home.

If Lawrence Grant wanted to make me feel like a stranger in my own marriage—perhaps it was time I stopped trying to belong.