Mistress Natsumi

There was an open secret among upper-class society. The wealthy man, Brandon Anderson, loved his wife to death. However, he was addicted to cheating on her. He would give everything those young women wanted from him, but he had one strict rule for them: not to expose anything to his wife. Everyone knew that he had loved his wife for ten years, and he had put in a lot of effort to marry her. He had once said that if his wife died, he would not survive. However, this latest mistress did not follow his instruction. She came to me because he doted on her. She sent me a lot of photos of condoms and his sleeping face. “Ms. Lowe, this brand is too good. I was screaming the whole night. Has Mr. Anderson ever used that with you?” It was that moment that I realized the young man who was infatuated with me had given his heart to me, but his body to other people. When I saw the photos, I cried so hard that I had no more tears. Then, I drafted a divorce agreement and signed it. I turned around and saw Brandon, seventeen again, crying as he stared at me.

After Celine Anderson let her newly-promoted assistant take credit for my billion-dollar project for the ninth time, I handed in my resignation letter. I also refused to show up in the same place as her. Whenever she was interviewed by talk shows as a public figure, I would switch off all the screens in the building. I also got the security guard to stop her from entering even if she brought me a cup of coffee in the middle of a tornado. To see me, she purposely rescheduled three virtual meetings with foreign companies. So, I immediately bought air tickets to leave the country. I blocked her everywhere and formatted the hard disk that contained all of our memories from the past decade. When I was twenty, I studied with her in the university library. When I was twenty-five, I ate the cheapest bread with her when she first started her company. When I was thirty, I finally knew how to let go of things that no longer serve me. On the ninth time I was accused of sleeping my way up, I came across a photo of her and her assistant kissing. Meanwhile, I was sitting at our dining table with food that had turned cold. It turned out that our decade-long relationship had been a joke. However, it was fine. It was not too late to come to my senses.

Seven years after I lost my wolf, I watched my mate, Alpha Glen, get his heart ripped out and his body torn apart. The pack demanded the killer's name. I bit through my tongue and kept my mouth shut. Lena, Glen's childhood friend, hated me with everything she had. Six-year-old Nick cried and asked why I hadn't saved his father. I shoved them all away. Then the pack broke my leg and cast me out. For fifteen years, I drifted. I barely stayed alive in a dead northern town, wolfsbane buried in my bones, one leg ruined, half-crippled, waiting to die like some rogue. The day the door crashed open, Nick was already Alpha. He grabbed my chin, his eyes burning with pure hate. "You hid the murderer. You don't deserve to be my mother. "Take her back to Thanis. Strap her to the Mindfang Rig. I want the truth—even if that machine kills her." I thought that device would kill me. But when the truth was finally ripped into the open, Nick dropped to his knees and broke down, calling me Mother. Lena wanted to die to beg my forgiveness. And the whole pack lost its mind.

On my fourth year anniversary, my wife, Rachel Brady, hands over a divorce agreement to me. "My mom is afflicted with a severe disease, and she's dying soon. Her final wish is to watch us get a divorce. "I promise that this is just a fake divorce. Once my mom has passed away, we'll get remarried again." As I watch Rachel sob sadly in front of me, I agree to her proposition out of sympathy. But as soon as we get divorced, Rachel quickly posts a photo of her and her first love, Max Cohen, in wedding attire on her social media account. Even my ex-mother-in-law, who's said to live on borrowed time, is included in the same photo while looking hearty and hale.

Everyone knew I, Isabella Marino, was Vince Moretti's greatest weakness—the one thing the mafia boss would never tolerate being touched. Years ago, when I was kidnapped, Vince disarmed himself at gunpoint, risking death to get me back, even paying his entire fortune for my ransom. To keep me from harm, he walked a razor's edge, navigating danger at every turn. After I got pregnant, he waited on me hand and foot, barely letting my feet touch the ground. There were rumors that he kept a pampered mistress outside—some woman he spoiled rotten. I never believed them. But then she flaunted herself in front of me. To beg for my forgiveness, Vince cut off his own finger. The next day, that woman slapped her pregnancy test results in my face, sneering, "Vince wanted a baby with me so badly, he just couldn't help himself!" I was already frail. The shock and rage sent me into a miscarriage.

My best friend, Sabrina Reeves, hates children. She wants a child of her own, but she doesn't want to give birth to her own child. So, she sought me out and asked me to help give birth to a child for her. She even claimed that her child would be my child, and that they'd take care of me when I grew old. I thought she was crazy. Also, I warned her that it was illegal to find a surrogate mother in our country. Out of fury, Sabrina cut off all ties with me and called me a shameless wretch. "It's just giving birth to a child! I can do that too!" But Sabrina started smoking, drinking, and bar-hopping a lot. She could never get pregnant no matter what. After that, her husband brought his mistress and illegitimate child home before kicking Sabrina out. "Even a hen is capable of laying eggs! I've married you for so long, yet you can't even get pregnant! You really are a loser! "I never said anything about you wanting your best friend to give birth to my child! But you can't even get that done! Isn't this all your fault?" Sabrina pinned the blame on me. She slashed my stomach open repeatedly with a blade. Just like that, I died from the sheer pain. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Sabrina asks me to help give birth to a child for her.

"The property management fee this month comes to 1,500 dollars. Please make the payment whenever you're free." I notice my husband's phone screen lighting up on the dining table. After glancing at it, I grabbed it immediately. "The management must have gotten it wrong. Our apartment's fee is 28 dollars per month." That's when Liam Moore shoots up to his feet and reaches out to snatch his phone back. "Yeah, they must have gotten it wrong. I'll text the person in charge and explain everything to him." But I've already tapped into the link, which shows me the details of the property that's being charged. It's Cloudridge Villa, and the property deed owner is… Matilda Shaw. The young housekeeper who's currently cooking in the kitchen is also Matilda Shaw. My mind buzzes loudly instantly. While the three of us have to make do with a tiny, rundown replacement housing that's provided by the government, Liam, my own husband, has actually bought a villa for Matilda.

“That video in the group chat was filmed in your bridal suite, wasn’t it?” one of the women asked with a grin. “Sleeping around right under Adela’s nose? That’s bold.” Lorenzo leaned back, swirling his drink, looking pleased with himself. “Yes.” “I used to be too sick to do half the things I wanted,” he said, tapping his chest. “After the transplant, I realized spending the rest of my life with only one lover would be a waste.” The room erupted. He let them laugh, then added, “I set myself a goal. One hundred places before the wedding. Once it’s over, I’ll settle down. After that, my body and my marriage belong to Adela.” More laughter. More glasses raised. I stood outside the door with one hand pressed hard against my chest, where an artificial heart kept beating. Lorenzo never knew I had learned his language. He also never knew that I had already discovered he was keeping Vera—our wedding’s mistress of ceremonies—behind my back. And because he had hidden something from me, I had hidden something from him. I had already booked an assisted death service overseas.

I've been married to the prince of the underworld for ten years and have endured countless life-or-death situations by his side. My hands, once trained to play the piano, are covered in calluses from holding guns and stained with blood. But at 28, my husband ends up falling for a young woman from the slums. She's as delicate and pure as a chamomile. She's his well-kept little secret—until I run into them at the woman's prenatal appointment one day. I storm up to him, demanding an explanation, only for him to nonchalantly hand me divorce papers. "Sonia is a devout follower of the church and can't have a child before marriage. I must make an honest woman out of her. Sign these, and you'll get 40% of the company's shares." I refuse to do as told, so he corners me. In the end, he has my crippled younger brother tied up and forced under a hydraulic compression machine. "Sign the papers, Maeve, or watch your brother become a human mince pie. The choice is yours." I fall on my knees and beg him to stop. As the machine turns on, my hands fly to my aching lower belly, and I scream as I lose consciousness. When I wake up again, I'm back in the hospital, in the same spot where I ran into my husband and his mistress at her prenatal appointment. This time, I don't confront him. Overnight, I make arrangements with a sanatorium abroad, get divorced, and run away from home. Yet the moment I truly disappear, my husband loses his mind.

After being married to Nathan Baldwin for five years, news of him making a home for a young woman in a hotel gets out. The whole world knows of her existence. He doesn't want her to be known as a mistress, so he comes to me with a divorce agreement. "Mr. Price helped me in the past. He asked me to take care of Jenny before his death. I can't not do anything now that everyone thinks she's a homewrecker." I'm not surprised—Jenny Price has always been his first choice for the past five years. When Nathan came to me about this in my past life, I broke down and had a screaming match with him. I refused to get a divorce. Even after I became severely depressed, he doggedly believed I was merely putting on an act because Jenny said I didn't look like I was sick. He thought I was pulling tricks to avoid the divorce and lured me into a trap. He made it seem like I was the one having an extramarital affair. Then, he took me to court to have the divorce enforced. Only then did I understand that I would never compare to the debt he thought he owed Jenny's father. I took my life in a moment of despair. When I open my eyes again, I don't hesitate to sign the divorce agreement.