Romans & histoires My Husband Brought His Mistress Home

"And this is the complete set of evidence that Mr. Colson, during the course of the marriage, deliberately siphoned off company assets, kept a mistress, and even fathered an illegitimate child." With every sentence Rita delivered, Fred's face turned a shade paler. When the courtroom screens lit up with footage of him cuddling his baby at Goldbridge Residences, followed by intimate photos of him and Olive outside the maternity ward, he completely broke down. "Raven Stone, you vicious woman!" he roared. He shot up from his seat, his face twisted, lunging as if he wanted to attack me. The bailiffs pinned him down hard. The judge's gavel slammed down. "Order!"

"Married for three and a half years, cheating for three. You've known Grace for four years. Does that mean you two were already seeing each other before the wedding?" "Mr. Jackel, you want a divorce but aren't willing to pay. Are you trying to force your wife out with nothing?" Nate looked horrified. He never expected that everything he had just said was being livestreamed across the internet. At that moment, Grace's screams pierced through the ward. "Get away from me! I'm not a mistress! I'm not! "The unloved one is the real mistress!" Nate froze. "Wendy! If you have a problem, come at me!"

“You don’t get to ask questions. You don’t get answers. You don’t get me.” The glow fades. But the damage is done. Both of us feel it. Something inside me shifted. Something real. Something dangerous. He rakes a shaky hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t walk away like this,” he says. “Not when things are this complicated.” “Complicated?” I laugh dark, humorless. “You mean because your mistress is pregnant?” His face tightens. “This isn’t fair.” “Oh, no,” I say. “Fair would have been honest. Fair would have been telling me before the world found out. Fair would have been treating me like your wife.”

The 19th time I demand a divorce from my husband, Jason Simmons, my best friend, Diana Nicholson, doesn't try to change my mind as usual. In the past, she always tried to stop me. She even personally showed up at Jason's company to ask him to reconcile with me. This time, she quietly contacts a lawyer for me, prepares a divorce agreement, and helps me with the divorce proceedings. Unable to help myself, I question her about her unusual behavior just as I'm about to sign the divorce agreement. It seems that I've touched a sore spot because she suddenly loses her temper and snaps, "Layla suffered a miscarriage because of you this time. How much longer are you going to cause a fuss?" Layla

"...and I want nothing more than to take care of you and our baby growing inside you." My eyes went wide. It was as if somebody had just emptied a drum of freezing water over me, yet a wave of dizziness hit me almost instantly that I staggered backward before barely managing to steady myself. Vivian strode over to him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist before his lips came down on hers. Applause erupted throughout the ballroom, while I stood there, shaken to my very bones. Why were they clapping for a man who had just introduced his mistress in front of his wife like it was nothing?

The way he spoke to her was nothing like the cold, commanding tone he used with me. He ended the call and turned to me. “We’re going to the hospital. Nora got hurt.” For a second, my mind went blank. Then humiliation washed over me. He was not asking. He was informing me. He wanted me, his wife, to go with him to visit his mistress. The insult made my whole body go cold. I stared at the blurred city lights outside the window, my stomach twisting as though I might throw up every grievance I had swallowed over the years.

"I love you. Do you remember our wedding? You wore that white dress that was too long and you kept stepping on it. Do you remember our first apartment, the one with the leaking ceiling, and we put a bucket in the middle of the living room and laughed? Do you remember when Lily was born and you held her and you looked at me like I was the whole world?" I did remember, of course I remembered. And for a moment, sitting there in our quiet kitchen, I felt guilty, it hurt. Because that was our history. That was our life. Six years married, seven years together. A leaking ceiling, a baby and a white dress that was too long. I wanted to go to him and hug him and say it's okay, we can fix it. Then he

I grabbed the edge of the desk to steady myself. “Oh my God…” I whispered shakily. My husband was masturbating to pictures of his brother’s wife.

Something about the way he said it made my stomach tighten. “You do?” I paused, “I don't think I have met you before.” He hesitated. Vivian stepped between us. “Lydia, this is a private matter. Marcus and I need to talk, and I'm sure you have things to do.” “I did have things to do,” I replied. “Then your boyfriend asked me whether my husband had told me what happened that night.” Marcus's eyes flickered toward Vivian. “Your husband,” he repeated. “Yes. My husband.” I clenched my fist, “Ronan is my husband.”

I'd been married to Cecil Smith for eight years. He was the youngest wedding planner in the country, yet our own wedding had been thrown together in a rush. I'd asked him about it many times. Each time, he'd take my hand and say the same thing. "Nora, once I make it into the Best of Weddings Hall of Fame, I'll give you a wedding the whole city will talk about. "I'll make sure everyone knows you're the wife I'd do anything for." He said it like he meant it, so I believed him. I gladly stayed up late rewriting proposals with him and worked alongside him on-site. When he needed cash to keep the business going, I sold the house my mother had left me. My coworkers would see how worn out I was and