Accused of Causing My Husband's Mistress Miscarriage

Not long after the call ended, the doorbell rang. A man in a sharp black suit stood at the entrance, carefully holding a large, exquisite gift box.

“Ms. Faith, this is from Mr. Brown.”

I accepted it with a quiet nod.

When I arrived at the banquet hall, a few young women from the company stood in a circle, whispering excitedly. Their eyes sparkled with envy as they glanced at Denise, who clung gracefully to Clifford’s arm.

"Denise is so lucky," one said in awe. "President Cliff is handsome, wealthy, and spoils her like a princess. That dress she’s wearing tonight? Easily eight figures."

"What's there to envy?" another chimed in with a sneer. "No matter how much he spoils her, she's still just the mistress. President Cliff already has a wife."

“Wife?” the third scoffed. “Didn’t you hear? When Denise had her miscarriage, President Cliff lost it. I heard he even forced an abortion on his own wife because of it. That title of ‘Mrs. Delaney’ is probably just a placeholder now…”

I said nothing. Silently, I circled the pool, picked up a glass of wine, and took a slow sip.

Then came the voice I dreaded.

Denise.

She approached with a smug smile, casually scanning me from head to toe. In her eyes—gleaming with jealousy and triumph—I saw the kind of hatred that never needed a reason.

“You really have no shame,” she sneered. “Clifford told you not to come, and yet, here you are, showing up uninvited.”

“In his heart, you’re not even worth the dirt under my shoes,” she continued, venom dripping from every word. “I faked an audio file saying you caused my miscarriage, and guess what? He believed it. He tied you down and almost had your baby aborted—in public.”

“That first time you got pregnant?” She laughed coldly. “I only had someone smear oil on the stairs to humiliate you. I never expected you were already carrying a bastard then.”

“If I were you, I would’ve disappeared a long time ago. Oh, and just so you know—the only medicine that could’ve saved your dying mother?” She paused and leaned in. “Clifford bought it. At an outrageous price. To save my kitten.”

My face went pale.

Seeing my reaction, she grew more pleased. She pulled out her phone and shoved it in front of me. In the photo, she and Clifford were beaming, blowing out candles beside the tiny, fluffy kitten.

The timestamp?

The exact date of my mother’s death.

The rage erupted from somewhere deep within me. I couldn’t hold back—I grabbed her by the throat.

She gasped and flailed, pulling me into the pool with her. The cold water erupted around us in a splash of chaos, drawing attention from all sides.

"Wait—isn’t that Mrs. Delaney? I think she came with President Cliff!" someone exclaimed in the crowd.

Clifford came running, eyes wide, and without hesitation, dove into the pool.

Under the water, our eyes met. I saw the flicker of surprise in his expression. But it lasted only a second. He reached for Denise’s hand and swam toward the surface—leaving me behind.

As she clung to his neck like a trophy, she kicked me downward, pushing me deeper into the water with a smirk.

She had been on the college swim team. Clifford knew that.

And yet, he chose to save the one who could swim—and abandoned the one who couldn’t.

The water burned in my lungs. My limbs flailed weakly as I tried to reach the edge, vision blurring.

Just as I was on the brink of slipping away, a pair of strong arms pulled me up. Through the haze, I vaguely saw another man—Wesley Brown.

Clifford emptied the pool in desperation, searching for me. But by then, I was already gone.

When I woke up in Wesley’s manor, the first thing I did was glance at my phone.

Unread messages. All from Clifford.

"Faith, I’m not done with you! You pushed Denise into the water!"

"You bitch! Get back here and apologize to her!"

"What’s wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? Don’t you even remember where your home is?!"

I deleted the thread without hesitation.

Blocked his number.

And erased five years of my life in a single tap.