Italian Mistress

On our son's fifth birthday, I found the texts on Stanley's phone—from his best friend's widow: [Stanley, the kid misses his dad again. When are you coming over?] [Stanley, Archie liked a set of matching family outfits. I already ordered them. Let's wear them together this weekend.] [Stanley, Archie starts school tomorrow. I put your name down under "father." Hope that's okay?] And Stanley? He was all in: [Loretta's asleep. I'll head over now.] [My size is 3XL. Don't get the wrong one.] [It's fine. You two have always been my responsibility.] I stood there, frozen. Then I called him back in from the living room, where he'd been helping Luca open gifts. He didn't deny it. Just hugged me and started rambling. "Hallie's Howard's widow. I promised I'd look out for her and Archie. I know I messed up. It won't happen again." We'd been together ten years. Luca had just turned five. Ending a marriage over a few texts felt dramatic. So I let it slide. Believed him. We even went out to celebrate Luca's birthday. Then his phone lit up on the table: [Stanley, the kid's crying for his dad before bed. I can't calm him down.] Stanley shoved his chair back and walked out—no hesitation. I looked at Luca. He was startled at the noise. And just like that, divorce didn't feel so dramatic anymore.

Everyone in the upper crust knows that I love Sasha Ramirez more than anything in the world. For many years, I have done everything for her silently. When her mother was sick, I secretly hired all the most famous doctors all over the nation just so they could cure her. When she started her own company, I invested large amounts of money in order to pave her path to success. Whenever I came across something nice, I'd always present it to her on a silver platter. We've been married for 12 years. I've always believed that my love will eventually make her feel moved. But what I don't expect is that Sasha has been cheating on me with her male secretary, Gavin Shaw, behind my back. When I see an ultrasound scan of Sasha's pregnancy, as well as countless couple photos that Gavin has sent to me, I feel my heart breaking. Instead of kicking up a fuss, I calmly call for a shareholders' meeting and dismiss Sasha from her position as the CEO. I want her to understand that she's nothing without me.

I fell in love with the nanny's son. After boldly pursuing him, he reluctantly agreed to marry me. But I never expected his young lover to storm into my home like a madwoman, prying my mouth open to pour scalding water down my throat, pressing me into a sink full of dirty water, and finally pushing me down the stairs. My husband stood by my hospital bed, looking at my broken body with disdain. "Irene, every moment with you makes me sick," he spat, barely able to hide his impatience for my death. Yet, when I finally died, he sobbed uncontrollably in public, playing the role of the devoted, heartbroken husband. "Irene, don't leave me! You have no idea how much I wanted to die with you!" At that, I spoke softly from behind him. "Is that so?"

Even though it's been three years since we held our weddings, Adrian Johnson refuses to get our marriage registered. I overhear him venting to his best friend after he gets drunk. "Colleen got kidnapped before. I keep thinking of her as a tainted woman. Plus, her family has already gone into bankruptcy. She has no idea that my company is about to get listed." I feel my blood turn into ice in my veins. His confession leaves my feet rooted to the spot. Then, Adrian pulls a woman into his arms before kissing her belly. That woman is Rosalind Muller, the young and beautiful bar singer. I'm still dazed when I receive a text on my phone. It's a photo of Rosalind's pregnancy bump. The caption writes, "You're just a tainted woman. How can you ever compare to me?" What Adrian doesn't know is that I never got kidnapped three years ago. At that time, I had carried out a top-secret rescue mission as a secret agent. Soon, I text my dad. "Dad, where's your island? Can you send a helicopter over to pick me up?" On the day I leave Adrian once and for all, it's time for my mysterious identity and the truth from three years ago to be revealed.

At my mother's funeral, my fiancé, Matt Moore, arrived with Kayla Wood to pay his respects. In front of everyone, he announced that our engagement was over. He was going to marry Kayla instead. As the whispers and laughter of the crowd swirled around me, Zach Hayden, my childhood friend, suddenly knelt on one knee and proposed. He said he had loved me for many years. Moved by Zach's sincerity, I accepted his proposal. For three years after our marriage, I remained childless. Each time the topic came up, Zach would reassure me gently that it didn't matter. As long as he had me, that was enough. But not long after, I overheard a conversation between him and the family doctor. "Mr. Hayden, I've prepared the contraceptives as you instructed. Should I continue giving them to your wife?" His voice was cold and detached. "Yes. Don't stop. Marrying her was nothing more than a convenient arrangement. In my heart, only Kayla is worthy of being the mother of my child." So, this marriage I thought was filled with happiness was nothing more than a carefully crafted lie. Since he never loved me, I no longer wanted him either.

On our first wedding anniversary, I took the day off from work and left early, only to find that my wife had probably cheated on me. One day I arrived at home, I found a shocking display where my wife was engaging in some intense activities…

After a team building event, my colleague, Matthew Wells, gives me a ride to the company so I can work overtime. That very night, his girlfriend throws a fit and claims I'm a homewrecker who tried to seduce Matthew. She even produces edited photos of us being intimate. The company's management speaks to Matthew and me—he claims I regularly harass him and pushes the blame on me. The management labels me as a troublemaker and fires me. My apprentice tries to speak up for me but gets bullied and sidelined. Ultimately, she quits out of depression. I charge over to the company to seek justice for my apprentice but accidentally get pushed down a staircase during an argument. I land with my head on the ground and die on the spot. When I open my eyes again, I'm reborn and taken back to when Matthew's girlfriend starts throwing a fit.

My movie star husband's girlfriend suspected I was the other woman. She confronted me in public, beat me until I lost my child, and even left my face scarred beyond recognition. "You shameless homewrecker! How dare you seduce someone else's man—and even get pregnant?" she screamed in rage. "I'll send you and that child of yours straight to hell today!" And as for my husband, he didn't even spare me a glance. All he cared to say was, "Why did you bother hitting her yourself? Did your hand hurt?" But when he finally discovered that the woman his girlfriend had scarred and caused to miscarry was me, he lost his mind.

On the night of my wedding, my best friend's younger brother wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked me, “It’s a little big. Can you handle it?” I stared at his perfectly defined abs, my mind going completely blank. “What?” He repeated, “Can you handle it?” My voice jumped an octave from my panic. “Aren't we supposed to take things slow? Isn’t this way too fast?” That night, the sound-activated lights in the house flickered on and off until dawn. Meanwhile, my ex-husband was squatting downstairs. His eyes were swollen red from crying, but I did not even spare him a thought. Back then, when I agreed to let him proceed with a fake wedding with his childhood sweetheart, Miles Carter thought our cold war was over. When he explained things to me, he said, “Vivian and I will only be married on paper. The ceremony is just to satisfy my mom. I swear, when this is over, we’ll live as a real couple.” I remained silent. I just stared at the countdown on my phone, counting the days until I could finally leave. He did not know that the moment he tricked me into signing the divorce papers, our marriage had already ceased to exist.

Five years after our breakup, I saw my ex-fiancé, Nico Luciano, showing off his newborn on social media. The next day, he cornered me at a private club and slid a black card across the table. “Lena, Sophia finally had a boy, the heir to the Luciano family. Now I can marry you.” He tried to soften his tone. “Having been widowed to my late brother for five years, she just wanted a child to care for her. I had no choice after the first two were girls. “Thank you for waiting these extra two years. The wedding is set for next Monday, and the invitations are ready.” What he didn’t know was that I was already married. I am now the lawful wife of Vincent Moretti, the don of the North Alumcian Mafia Commission, and a core decision-maker of the Moretti family’s financial empire. Watching Nico’s confident smile, I sent a message to my underboss. “Notify the elders of the five major mafia families. Next Monday, I’m removing the Luciano family from power.” Then I looked up and smiled at him. “Marry me? Save your own career first.”