All Chapters of My Husband Brought His Mistress Home: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

CIERRA’S POVActing was never new to me. I’d been doing it my whole life, and I knew exactly how to make my voice shake and my face crumple. Judging by the way I’d screamed for help, looking like I’d just stumbled out of the bathroom in a panic, nobody would ever suspect that a pregnant woman was behind the death of that old fool. A few seconds passed before the door burst open. One of the guards stood there, his eyes sweeping the room before landing on Arthur, lying lifeless on the floor. “Doctor, we need you in here!” he shouted over his shoulder before rushing straight toward the body. He dropped to his knees, lifted Arthur’s head, and pressed two fingers against his neck. I watched his expression change when he found no pulse. He immediately started CPR, his palms pressing hard against Arthur’s chest. I stood there with one hand pressed over my mouth, sobbing, tears pouring down my cheeks so realistically that I almost impressed myself. Nobody looking at me could have thought I

CIERRA’S POVRoman’s mansion smelled like the good candles he only lit for special occasions, and tonight, there were three of them burning across the mantel, throwing a soft golden light over the two crystal glasses he’d already filled before I’d even taken off my shoes.“To finally being free,” he said, handing me a glass, his eyes bright in a way I hadn’t seen from him in months.“To finally being free,” I echoed, clinking my glass against his.He drank deeply, then let out a long breath, like something heavy had finally rolled off his shoulders after years of carrying it. “You have no idea what this means to me,” he said, setting his glass down and pulling me close by the waist. “My family can finally rest. After everything that man took from us, after everything he did, it’s over. It’s actually over.”He pressed a kiss to my cheek, then another along my jaw, his hand trailing slowly down my arm, lingering at my wrist before lifting it to press his lips there too, warm and reveren

ANABEL’S POVThe words landed exactly where he’d aimed them. My face burned, but I set my notebook on the chair, pressed my palms flat against my skirt, and stood.“Yes,” I said. My voice shook at first, then steadied. “It’s actually not that difficult.”I crossed the room, my heels far too loud on the polished floor, and stopped beside the projector screen. Up close, the green line looked even more wrong. I picked up the laser pointer the employee had left behind and moved the red dot to the bottom of the slide.“Here. The margin is forty percent in the old model and forty percent in the new one. But the price dropped by ten percent, and the cost per unit didn’t change. So the margin can’t still be forty. It becomes thirty.”No one interrupted.“If the company earns forty on each unit now and thirty after the discount, then a thirty percent increase in volume gives you…” I did the arithmetic out loud, keeping my voice level. “Thirty times one point three. That’s thirty-nine, which is

ANABEL’S POVThe screen had been playing the same breaking news segment for nearly twenty minutes now, the anchor’s voice calm and practiced in that particular way news anchors trained themselves to sound when delivering the death of someone important, someone whose name alone could shift markets and make headlines overnight. Wilson Group Arthur Wilson Passes Away After Battle With Heart Disease. I’d read the caption so many times that it had stopped meaning anything, just shapes and letters blurring together every time fresh tears rose and fell. The one person in that house who had never looked at me like I was a stain on the family name. The one who spoke to me softly when everyone else spoke over me. The one who had once sat beside me in the garden, an old man with a cane and a stubborn streak, and said, You have more strength than you know, child. Don’t let them tell you otherwise. I had believed him, or at least I had wanted to. And I had never thanked him. Not properly. I h

ANABEL’S POVI didn’t remember the bus ride home.One moment, I was sitting at my desk with a phone that wouldn’t stop shaking in my hand, and the next, I was standing outside Chloe’s apartment door, the key already turning in the lock as though my body had done it without me.The smell of garlic and something simmering greeted me. Chloe was in the kitchen with her hair tied up in a messy knot, stirring a pot with one hand and scrolling through her phone with the other. She looked up when the door closed, and whatever she was about to say died on her lips.“Oh, Ana,” she said softly.She dropped the spoon, turned off the stove, and crossed the room in three steps. Before I could open my mouth, her arms were around me, tight and warm, smelling of onions and lavender lotion.“I saw the news,” she murmured against my hair. “I’ve been trying to call you all afternoon. I didn’t want to text something like that, I just… I’m so sorry.”I stood stiffly for a second, and then I let my bag slid