After My Husband Betrayed Me, I Married My Father's Best Friend

The words hung in the air long after Damien said them.

I looked back down at the article.

The photo hurt more than I wanted to admit.

Ethan was smiling.

Actually smiling.

His hand rested against Chloe's lower back.

The same way it used to rest against mine.

The same way he used to guide me through crowded rooms.

The same way he used to touch me before everything fell apart.

I tossed the phone onto the bed.

"I don't want to look at it anymore."

Damien took the phone without another word.

Good.

Because if I saw one more picture of them together, I was going to throw up.

A knock interrupted the silence.

A nurse stepped inside.

"Good news. Your test results look much better."

One piece of good news.

She adjusted my IV.

"The doctor thinks you can go home tomorrow."

Home.

The word immediately made me tense.

Because home wasn't home anymore.

Home was where Ethan and Chloe were.

Home was where my marriage had died.

The nurse must have noticed my expression.

"Everything okay?"

I forced a smile.

"Yeah."

She clearly didn't believe me.

Neither did Damien.

The moment she left, he asked,

"Where are you going after you're discharged?"

I stared at him.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't stay here forever."

Unfortunately.

"I'll go home."

Damien's jaw tightened.

"No."

I laughed.

"You know, you're weirdly comfortable telling me what to do."

"Because apparently nobody else is."

That shut me up.

I hated that he had a point.

The room fell silent again.

Eventually I sighed.

"It's still my house."

"No."

I frowned.

"What?"

"It's your husband's house."

The correction felt like a slap.

Not because it was cruel.

Because it was true.

The house wasn't mine.

Not really.

Everything inside had Ethan's name attached to it.

The mortgage.

The deed.

The company that paid for the renovations.

Even the car in the garage technically belonged to him.

I suddenly felt trapped.

For three years, I had called that place home.

Now it felt like someone else's property.

Maybe it always had been.

________________

The next morning, I was discharged.

Damien insisted on driving me.

I argued for exactly thirty seconds before giving up.

Mostly because standing made me dizzy.

The ride was quiet.

New York rushed past outside the window.

People walked to work.

Taxis honked.

Life continued.

Mine felt frozen.

When we pulled into the driveway, I immediately knew something was wrong.

There was an unfamiliar Mercedes parked outside.

Women's luggage sat near the front door.

Several designer shopping bags were piled beside it.

I stared.

"No."

Damien followed my gaze.

His expression darkened.

"No?"

I opened my door before he could stop me.

Pain shot through my stomach as I hurried toward the entrance.

I didn't care.

The front door wasn't locked.

I pushed it open.

Then froze.

A pair of expensive high heels sat near the staircase.

Not mine.

A pink coat hung beside Ethan's jackets.

Not mine.

A purse sat on the entry table.

Definitely not mine.

My pulse started racing.

"No."

I walked farther inside.

The living room looked normal.

At first.

Then I noticed framed photographs.

Photographs that weren't there before.

My stomach dropped.

One showed Ethan and Chloe at a restaurant.

Another showed them on a beach.

One was taken in front of Rockefeller Center at Christmas.

I stared at it.

Last Christmas.

Last Christmas Ethan told me he had an important business trip.

Apparently that trip involved Chloe.

A familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Oh."

I turned.

Chloe stood at the top of the staircase.

Wearing a silk robe.

My robe.

The one I bought in Paris last year.

For a second, I couldn't speak.

Because my brain refused to process what I was seeing.

Then Chloe smiled awkwardly.

"Sophia."

I wanted to slap her.

"What are you doing here?"

The question came out colder than I expected.

She touched her stomach.

"I live here now."

The words hit harder than the affair.

Because this wasn't sneaking around anymore.

This wasn't hiding.

This was replacement.

She wasn't trying to steal my husband.

She already had.

"What did you just say?"

Chloe swallowed.

"Ethan thought it would be better for the baby."

I laughed.

A short, ugly sound.

"What baby?"

Her hand moved across her stomach.

"Mine."

The hallway suddenly felt too small.

Then another voice appeared.

"What's going on?"

Ethan walked out of the kitchen.

Coffee mug in hand.

Looking perfectly relaxed.

Like none of this was insane.

Like his wife hadn't nearly lost their child forty-eight hours ago.

His eyes landed on me.

Then Damien.

Immediately his expression hardened.

"What is he doing here?"

I stared at him.

That was his first question?

I almost laughed.

"Ethan, are you serious right now?"

"You didn't answer my question."

Damien folded his arms.

"She needed a ride."

Ethan scoffed.

"I can take care of my wife."

The irony was almost impressive.

I stepped forward.

"No, you can't."

His eyes snapped toward me.

For the first time, he looked uncomfortable.

"Sophia."

"No."

I pointed upstairs.

"Did you move her into our house?"

"Our house?"

Chloe looked away.

Coward.

Ethan sighed.

"It's temporary."

"Temporary?"

"She's pregnant."

"So am I!"

The words exploded out of me.

Silence.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.

I could feel tears threatening.

Not now.

I refused.

Not in front of them. Not again.

Ethan ran a hand through his hair.

"You're making this harder than it needs to be."

I just stared at him.

Harder?

My husband had moved his pregnant mistress into our home.

And somehow I was the problem.

I suddenly understood something.

Ethan didn't think he was wrong.

Not really.

He thought I'd get angry.

Cry.

Then eventually forgive him.

Just like always.

That realization hurt more than the betrayal itself.

Because it meant he never respected me.

Not even a little.

Then another voice entered the conversation.

Ethan's mother.

Great.

Just what I needed.

Margaret Parker stepped into the foyer carrying a tray.

She smiled when she saw Chloe.

"Sweetheart, your vitamins."

Then she noticed me.

The smile disappeared.

"Oh."

I looked between them.

Ethan. Chloe. Margaret.

The happy little family.

And suddenly I understood something else.

I didn't belong here anymore.

Maybe I hadn't for a long time.

Margaret handed the vitamins to Chloe.

"Make sure my grandson stays healthy."

I instinctively touched my stomach.

Nobody had ever said that about my baby.

Nobody.

Something inside me finally broke.

Not loudly. Quietly.

Like a thread snapping.

I turned around.

"Sophia."

Ethan called after me.

I kept walking.

"Sophia."

Still walking.

Then his hand grabbed my wrist.

I spun around immediately.

"Don't touch me."

The words surprised even me.

Because I meant them.

Every single syllable.

For the first time since the affair began, Ethan looked shocked.

Good.

Maybe he should be.

I pulled my arm free.

Then looked directly into his eyes.

"You chose her."

"Sophia—"

"You chose her."

His silence was answer enough.

I nodded slowly.

Then turned toward the door.

Damien opened it before I reached it.

Outside, fresh air hit my face.

I took a shaky breath.

Then another.

And another.

Behind me, Ethan shouted,

"Where are you going?"

I stopped.

Without turning around, I answered.

"I don't know."

Because for the first time in three years...

I truly had nowhere left to go.

And that terrified me.

As I stepped toward Damien's car, neither of us noticed the figure watching from the second-floor window.

Chloe.

Smiling.

Because she thought she had won.

What she didn't know was that the war hadn't even started yet.