Mistress

Both Sienna Zeller, a top-tier actress, and I went into premature labor, and my husband, hailed as the star obstetrician, pulled a deformed baby from me. The shock nearly broke me. I sank into despair, only to accidentally discover that Sienna was my husband's first love. He had deliberately caused my early labor, planning to swap my healthy baby for hers, all to protect her image. Sienna played the perfect mother in public while secretly abusing my daughter until she was left mentally impaired. Heartbroken, I went to rescue my child, only for my husband and his first love to conspire, shoving us both down the stairs to our deaths. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I gave birth. I touched my unborn baby and vowed that this time, that cheating, cruel man and that treacherous woman would pay.

When I was seven, my father brought home a beautiful lady who gave me a mango. That day, my mother watched me happily eating the mango while she signed her name on the divorce papers. After that, she jumped off the roof of our building. From then on, mangoes became the nightmare of my life. So on my wedding day, I told my husband, Alan Holt, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." Alan pulled me into his arms, quiet. From then on, mangoes became off-limits for him, too. On Christmas Eve of our fifth year of marriage, Alan's childhood sweetheart, Larissa Fennimore, left a mango on his desk at the office. The very same day, Alan announced he was cutting ties with Larissa and fired her from the company. That day, I truly believed he was the man I was meant to be with. Half a year later, I flew back from overseas, having just closed a partnership deal worth about 200 million dollars. At the celebration dinner, Alan handed me a drink. After I had finished half the glass, his so-called childhood sweetheart, the woman who had been kicked out of the company, stood behind me with a big grin and asked, "Does the mango juice taste good?" I stared at Alan in disbelief, and he was trying hard not to laugh. "Don't be mad. Larissa insisted I played a little joke on you. I didn't actually give you a mango; I just gave you a bottle of mango juice. But I think she's right. The fact that you don't eat mangoes is a real problem. You were really enjoying that juice just now." My face went cold. I lifted my hand and threw the rest of the mango juice in his face, then turned around and walked away. Some things are never a joke. I wouldn't kid around with mangoes or divorce.

On the day I tried on my wedding dress, a stranger burst into the VIP fitting room and slashed me with a knife. She tore my dress to shreds, her face twisted with rage. "A gold-digger like you doesn't deserve a dress this expensive!" The blade, soaked in sulfuric acid, pierced my abdomen, and I collapsed in agony. She grabbed my hair and slapped me, snarling, "Clarence promised to marry me! You're nothing but a homewrecker!" Blood stained my gown as the truth hit me. My boyfriend of seven years had been cheating on me. "Keep staring, huh? My man runs this city. I could kill you, and no one would touch me!" she taunted, smug as hell. With bloodied hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed my brother. "Chris, come get me from the bridal shop. And tell the Thompsons the engagement is off."

The woman Lucas Kingston kept by his side was pregnant. When I found out, I was shocked to realize that she was just as far along as I was. In front of me, she gently caressed her rounded belly before settling herself onto Lucas’s lap. "I heard that Miss Carter’s equestrian skills rival those of men. I’m quite curious and would love to see it for myself. Lucas, could you ask her to give us a demonstration? “If she manages to please me…" She leaned in closer to him, her voice seductive. "Tonight, you can have whatever you want." Lucas’s gaze turned icy as it landed on me. Though he said nothing, everyone present understood his intent. My face drained of color as I pleaded desperately, "Lucas, please don’t do this! I’ll lose the baby!" Laughter rippled through the crowd, while Lucas merely looked at me with disdain. "If you lose it, you can always have another. Now get on the horse! If you can’t entertain her properly, don’t even think about leaving this racetrack tonight!" The moment his words left his mouth, several people grabbed me and forced me onto the saddle. The startled horse reared and took off in a frenzy. Every jolt sent unbearable pain through my abdomen. I glanced back. From the viewing platform, the two of them were already locked in a passionate embrace. Clutching the reins with all my strength, I forced a bitter smile. This was the seventh time. And the last. From that moment on, I would never humiliate myself for anyone again.

To help my surgeon husband with his erectile dysfunction, I made an appointment with an expert six months in advance. But as the day approached, Isiah Coleman canceled it without explanation. Just as I was about to call him to demand answers, I spotted a post from his female friend on her social media. My usually stoic husband was beaming as he wrapped his arms around her. The caption read: [Only I can cure your illness.] What struck me, though, was the telltale bulge in his pants in the photo—a reaction I'd never seen from him with me. With a cold laugh, I liked the post and left a comment: [What a miracle worker!] The post exploded, with everyone speculating whether I'd confront the mistress. But what awaited him after the holiday was our freshly printed divorce certificate.

When I was seven years old, a handsome man Mom brought home gave me a box of mangoes. That day, Dad watched me happily eating the mangoes as he signed his name on the divorce agreement. Then, he jumped to his death. From that day on, mangoes became a lifelong nightmare for me. So, on our wedding day, I told my wife, Irene Johnson, "If you ever want a divorce, just give me a mango." She held me without saying a word. From that moment on, mangoes became forbidden for her as well. … On the fifth Christmas Eve after we got married, Irene's childhood sweetheart, Steven Carter, placed a mango on her desk. That same day, she announced that she was cutting ties with him and fired him from the company. That day, I felt that she was the woman destined for me. ... Six months later, I return from overseas after closing a billion-dollar deal. At the celebration dinner, Irene hands me a drink. After I drink half of it, Steven, the man who was kicked out of the company, stands behind me and grins. "Is the mango juice good?" he asks. I look at Irene in disbelief, but she is holding back a laugh. "Don't be mad. Steve insisted I play a joke on you. I didn't give you a mango, just a bottle of its juice. "But I think Steve is right. There's something wrong with you for not eating mangoes. Look at how much you enjoyed it just now!" she says. I keep a cold expression, raise my hand, and splash the remaining mango juice onto her face. Then, I turn and walk away. Some things are never a joke. Mangoes aren't, and neither is my decision to divorce.

I'm six years older than Bernard Jackman, but he always smiles and says, "Lucky me. I got to marry you." I think we will live happily ever after until a message pops up on his phone and shatters the illusion. "Bernie, be honest. Who's better in bed, me or your wife?" "Come on. That old hag smells like mothballs. She can't be compared to you!" And yet, he still showers me with love. How can a man say he loves me while sleeping with another woman? So, I tear off his mask and leave him. "Bernard, it's not that I can't live without you! You're filthy, and I don't want you anymore! I can find another man just fine!"

That night, I got off work early and brought home some late-night snacks. When I opened the door, I saw a pair of high heels carelessly tossed in the entryway and Gregory’s blazer thrown over the couch. His heavy breathing and the woman’s moans could be heard through the gap between the door and its frame. I was all too familiar with this sight. This time, I did not storm out like I used to. Instead, I sat quietly at the dining table and finished my cold pizza.

During my engagement party, the chandelier suddenly fell from the ceiling and landed on my head. However, my boyfriend shielded his junior as he dragged her to safety. Even when he saw blood coming out of my mouth, he hid aside with his junior in his arms. “They are just superficial wounds. They won’t kill you. It’s too dangerous here. Let’s wait for the paramedics!” However, he had forgotten he was the director of the emergency department. That night, I suffered a miscarriage, but he was having fun at a theme park with his junior to calm her down. I threw the medical report of my miscarriage at his face. After I decided to get married to another person, the once arrogant emergency doctor kept apologizing to me…

The night before my wedding, I stumbled upon his old chat logs with his friends. "I've never met anyone so easy to fool." "You know she comes from a single-parent home, right? She’s desperate for love." "So, all I have to do is be a little nice to her, and she throws herself at me." I used to believed he had saved me from the depths of despair, but in the end, he played me for a fool. I thought I’d found love, but in the end, my sincerity was worth less than dirt.