Mistress

On our anniversary, Nina Reid took our daughter—and her assistant, Ray Chapman—out for another "family day." Without me. That was it. I filed for divorce. Right after signing the papers and boxing up my stuff, I heard a buzz from the corner. Old phone. Twelve years old. Buried in a drawer. The screen lit up with a number I almost recognized. Hand shaking, I picked up. A voice I hadn't heard in years. Young. Way too familiar. "Hey, Liam. I need to talk to you."

On Valentine's Day, my husband Ethan Scott’s assistant, Taylor Winston, gifted me 360 used condoms. She leaned close to my ear and whispered that this was Ethan’s favorite brand. Then, in front of everyone, she teased, "Valentine's Day calls for some explosive fun. I hope you don't mind, Claire." Disgust churned in my stomach, and I couldn’t hold back—I vomited on the spot. Embarrassed that I had humiliated him, Ethan snapped, "It was just a joke. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?" Three months pregnant, I was so enraged that a patch of red stained my pants. I begged him to take me to the hospital. But Taylor chimed in, "It's just her physiological reaction." Furious, Ethan heartlessly locked me in the car. He spent three carefree days with Taylor before finally remembering me. But when he saw me again, the usually composed CEO of Scott Enterprise completely lost his mind.

My boyfriend and I had been together for eight years. We were already discussing marriage when Robbie suddenly asked me to wait a little longer. He said he needed to hold a grand wedding with his first love before he could marry me. Because, as he explained, for his first love—who struggled with anxiety—marriage was her greatest wish in life. He couldn't bear to see her spiral into self-harm under the weight of her illness, so with tears in his eyes, he promised to give her a home. Stunned, I asked what would happen to me. Instead of answering, he snapped impatiently, "Can't you show some empathy? It's just a year or two more. Are you really that desperate to get married? "And another thing… lend me your ring. Let Lucy wear it for now. You won't be needing it anytime soon." I stared at the man before me, someone both familiar and suddenly a stranger, and felt only a cold, hollow ache in my chest. But at last, I saw his true face behind the mask. Later, I chose to attend their wedding. I brought with me a very special blessing.

My family was on the brink of bankruptcy. To save us, my dad married me to a rich and powerful family. Before the wedding day, my fiancé demanded a virginity test. I confidently agreed to the test. To my surprise... The man who examined me was actually the doctor who had repaired my hymen three times by now...

I am the woman who stays the longest by the side of mafia Don Jasper Shaw. I believe I hold a unique place in his heart. But when his beloved Rosie Hurley suffers violation and falls pregnant, everything changes. Accused of orchestrating Rosie's downfall, I become the venomous villain in their eyes. To shield Rosie from gossip, Jasper publicly claims her unborn child as his own. Meanwhile, I am branded a depraved woman, defiled and discarded. Desperate, I reveal my own pregnancy to Jasper, pleading for our child’s future. He dismisses it as a ploy for attention. When I confront him, his words cut deep. "This is the sin you must atone for. Rosie has always been raised like a princess, and she can't endure the whispers—not like you." For the first time, I realize I am nothing to Jasper but a tool for his desires. Rosie locks me in a cramped cellar, where I suffocate and die. My body lies undiscovered for a month. When Jasper receives the call to identify my corpse, he brushes it off, prioritizing Rosie's prenatal checkup. "Amara's lies are piling up. So what if she's dead? Cremate her and then talk to me." My body enters the furnace and is reduced to a handful of ashes. Later, the mighty Jasper Shaw kneels and sobs uncontrollably. He begs for just one glimpse of me.

My adopted brother made a name for himself during the potion competition by using a potion he had stolen from me. No one expected the competition to be a ruse, but it turned out to be a scheme to find a husband for the serpent clan's youngest princess. She was born barren, cruel, and hideous. That very night, the serpent clan delivered a marriage contract, demanding that the creator of the potion take the princess as his wife. When my fiancée heard the news, she panicked and bonded with my adopted brother on the spot. After sealing their bond, he lifted his shirt, proudly showing me the wolf mark carved into his back. "Your fiancée's mine now, bro. What are you going to do? You'll turn twenty-five in three days. If no one marries you by then, you'll be randomly matched to one of those older, violent nomad beastwomen." He was wrong. I still had one choice left. I found my parents in the front hall, once again cleaning up the mess he had made. "If he won't marry the serpent princess," I said, "then I will."

When my wife brought her lover home for the fifth time, I decided enough was enough. I said nothing, not a word of complaint or protest. Instead, I superglued the windows shut and locked the bedroom door from the outside. From the bedroom came the muffled sounds of her little escapade, breathless and feverish, carrying through the walls like a shameful melody no one asked to hear. Calmly, I sat in the living room, picked up the phone, and called my mother-in-law. "Jessie," I said, putting on my best tone of urgency, "it's bad—real bad! Your daughter's locked herself in the bedroom and says she's gonna end it all!"

The New Year was just around the corner. While I was doing a thorough cleaning, I stumbled upon something beneath the couch. It was a damp, used condom, and it still had a faint lipstick stain on the edge. One thing I was sure of was that I didn't use this brand, but the lipstick color? It matched perfectly with my girlfriend Lindsey Stirling's.

A plane crash tore my husband and his twin brother apart. One survived. One did not. When I rushed to the hospital, I saw my brother-in-law, who had just survived the crash, locked in a passionate kiss with his wife. My husband? He lay lifeless in the morgue. Blinded by grief, I stumbled down the stairs…and lost the child I had spent three years longing for. Three years passed. Just as I was finally learning to breathe without him, I overheard a conversation between his closest friend and my brother-in-law: "How long do you plan to keep pretending to be your brother? Alicia is your legal wife." He adjusted his glasses, voice icy and distant. "I swore to my brother I'd protect Emily for the rest of my life. I am him now. As for Alicia… let her be the debt I carry into my next life." That's when I learned the truth. It was the brother-in-law who died in the crash. My husband, the man I had mourned all those years, had taken on his brother's identity to stay by Emily's side, the unattainable woman he had always secretly loved. So then what about me? The woman clinging to old memories, living in torture for three years. What was I to him?

The care center called. "Hi, just wanted to ask if you're happy with our service so far." Well, that was odd. I was only eight months along. My baby wasn't even born yet. I had no need for the care center at the moment. So I kept digging. I pressed my husband for answers. He was the one handling the talks with the care center. I wanted to know what was going on. He gave me an apologetic look. "This center costs 120 grand, honey. We can't afford that. They must've gotten the wrong number. You should stay at home instead. I'll give you the perfect care you need." That was it. I wasn't going to waste my time talking to him. My sister, Jessie Gibson, owned the care center, so I called her instead. "Jessie? Yeah, it's me. William sent another woman to your place and stole my spot. I want you to find out who. He's cheating on me, and I'm getting proof!"