WIFE TO A CHEATER BRIDE TO A BILLIONAIRE

WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN YOUR HUSBAND OF FIVE YEARS CHEATS ON YOU WITH ANOTHER WOMAN? NOT JUST ANY WOMAN—HIS COUSIN.

What do you think would be the most natural reaction for a woman to have? Cry? Scream? Turn her back and walk away? Or maybe jump on the both of them and beat their asses?

Maybe you would choose one of those. Maybe you would think that’s what I would do. But I didn’t.

Instead, I closed the bedroom door as if I hadn’t just seen my husband, the man I built a life with naked in bed with another woman and made my way to the kitchen. I should pick up a knife and make his heart hurt the way mine does right now, carve the pain into his skin so he understands. But I didn’t.

Instead, I went to the cellar and pulled out the most expensive bottle of wine we owned—one I had kept for a special occasion. And in a way, today was a special occasion. It’s not every day you catch your perfect, doting husband screwing another woman in your marital bed. If someone had told me that Martin—the man who always put my needs first, who showered me with affection, who swore I was the love of his life—would betray me like this, I would have laughed in their face.

Ten minutes. Ten fucking minutes. That’s how long it took for the two of them to come downstairs, like nothing had happened, like they weren’t just tangled together in sweaty, disgusting sheets.

They didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.

Kimberly’s face was flushed, her blonde hair tousled like she had just rolled out of bed—my bed. She didn’t even bother covering up properly, wearing his button down shirt, drowning in his scent. It made my stomach churn.

Martin looked at me, then at the wine bottle in my hand. His brows furrowed. That’s what he’s concerned about?

“What are you doing?” he asked, reaching out to take the bottle from me.

I pulled it away before he could touch it.

I took a slow sip before answering. “Is that really what you should be worried about right now?”

He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

I laughed. Was he trying to be funny? How could he ask me that, as if he hadn’t just been in our matrimonial bed with his cousin?

“What do I mean?” I repeated, my grip tightening around the wine glass.“Aren’t you going to apologize? Tell me you are sorry? Say it was a mistake? That you regret it and you would hate to ruin the marriage we worked so hard to build?”

I gestured for him to continue, but he only sighed and sat across from me at the kitchen island. He ran a hand through his hair and gave me a look. It wasn’t guilt. It wasn’t regret. It was pity.

“Look,” he said finally, “I’m sorry that you had to find out this way.”

That made my jaw tighten. This way? Not sorry for doing it, just sorry I found out?

“But what I’m not sorry for,” he continued, “is my relationship with Kimberly.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her closer. I could have sworn I saw Kimberly’s eyes light up.

“She makes me feel so alive.”

“She is your cousin, Martin,” I half screamed at him. “Do you hear yourself? She is your fucking cousin.”

But he didn’t even flinch.

“She isn’t,” he said calmly. “She has been my girlfriend for seven years.”

The wine glass nearly slipped from my hand. I could hardly breathe, it was as if the oxygen had been taking away from me. I stared at him, then at Kimberly. My brain refused to process the words.

Seven years?

The timeline didn’t make sense. I tried to do the math, but my mind felt scrambled. We have been married for five years. Did he—

My stomach twisted. I felt sick.

“You were dating before you met me?” I managed to say.

“Yes, Jasmine,” he answered softly.

I sucked in a shaky breath trying to stop myself from crying. “Why?”

“I don’t know how to say this without it coming off wrong, but you… I—” He paused.

“I will say it.” Kimberly interrupted and when I turned to her, she was smiling.

“Let me start by saying I didn’t intend to hurt a smart and beautiful woman like you,” she said. “In a different circumstance, I think we would have been good friends.”

I scoffed. “Save the pity speech.”

She sighed dramatically, then met my gaze—this time, with no pretense of sympathy.

“You grew up with everything handed to you, Jasmine. You pride yourself on being perfect—the perfect grades, the perfect job, the perfect little life. And you thought you could have the perfect husband too. So Martin played the role you wanted. He became your perfect man. And the moment you let your guard down?” She tilted her head. “We struck.”

I felt dizzy like the room was spinning and I had to grip the counter to steady myself.

“You were too trusting,” she continued. “And now we have full control of everything you own. And that’s more than enough for us to start our new family.” she smiled rubbing her stomach.

“How long?” I asked.

“Three weeks,” she smirked.

I shook my head. “No. How long were you planning to keep up the lie? If I hadn’t walked in on you, how long were you going to pretend?”

Kimberly’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Walking in on us was part of the plan.”

Martin and I spoke at the same time. “It was?”

She ran her fingers through his hair, looking smug. “Of course, sweetheart.” Then she turned back to me, her smile wicked. “I had you followed up. Made sure you arrived just in time to watch your perfect little world crumble.”

“You are trying so hard to look unfazed. But don’t worry—I know the cracks are there. And soon enough, they’ll split wide open. The real fun will be watching you fall apart when you are out there, spreading those pretty legs for every filthy man on the street just to put food in your mouth. It’s what you are, after all—a worthless whore.”