Disowning My Cheating Husband and Ungrateful Twins

The same guys who were all smiles earlier, helping my dad carry boxes for the party, now turned on him in an instant.

“You lay a finger on me and you’ll regret it,” my dad warned, his voice sharp.

One of them scoffed. “Why wouldn’t we? Who do you think you are?”

They hesitated—intimidated by the fire still burning in his eyes.

Then Denise, gleeful in her role as the villain, marched up and slapped my father hard across the face.

He froze.

This was a man who’d once been president of the State Business Council. He knew governors, senators, CEOs. Now he’d been humiliated by the woman who stole his legacy.

He was about to explode, but I grabbed his arm, pulling him back before things spiraled further.

“This is too much,” someone whispered. “They even hit Mr. Oldford?”

“How could they disrespect Mr. Oldford like this? Mr. Oldford is a great man. He’s a philanthropist! He’s funded schools, helped veterans and rebuilt homes for seniors. How dare they?”

“Crystal threw her life away for that man. Doesn’t she know women can’t undo that choice? Men can be fathers into their seventies, but a woman…?”

“If my daughter had done this,” another voice muttered, “I’d have smacked her senseless.”

“This couple—Billy and Denise—they’re disgusting. And now they’re the richest people in the city?”

Everyone was angry. Fingers pointed. Voices rose. Some cursed Billy. Some pitied me. But Billy was unfazed.

“Are we done yet?” he asked the room.

Everyone went silent.

He turned back to me. “So, Crystal? You signing, or what? Hurry! We don’t have all day for your decision.”

“Fine,” I hissed. “I'll sign it.”

I couldn’t hold a chuckle when I read what’s in the agreement. It was so ridiculously simple. Basically, it left me with a few grand—barely enough to cover a few months' rent. It was a clean exit. No assets. No rights. Nothing.

I picked up the pen and signed my name with a few quick, emotionless strokes.

Billy snatched up the papers and skimmed them, then let out a mocking laugh. “Good. Great. Crystal, you’re our biggest benefactor! Thank you so much—for handing us a billion-dollar fortune. My family and I will be living off your generosity for generations.”

Denise, glowing with triumph, lifted her glass and downed the champagne. “Seriously, Crystal, you’re like my fairy godmother! I ought to toast to you every year!”

I smiled.

Good. Let’s see how long that smile lasts.

Then it happened.

My father, still watching them bask in their victory—watching the family business passed down for five generations fall into someone else’s hands—suddenly coughed violently.

And then—

He collapsed, spitting up blood.

“Dad!” I screamed, rushing to his side.

“James!” my mom cried, kneeling beside him.

My relatives surged forward—someone tilted his head up, someone else tried to get water down his throat, another pressed his pressure points.

Panic exploded around us.

I looked at him—his pale face, his trembling hands. His heart had always been fragile. He nearly had a stroke when I had my hysterectomy for Billy’s sake. This might just break him completely.

Billy stood there watching the chaos, barely blinking. Then he spotted someone rushing in to help—a tall man in a sharp navy suit.

“Theo Jones?” Billy narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you doing here? Don’t tell me you're into Crystal now. She’s not exactly the flavor of the month.”

Theo and Billy had grown up together. Same small town. Same poor beginnings. Billy used to tease Theo all the time—called him a hayseed, a nobody.

Theo just offered a cool, polite smile. He didn’t bother looking at Billy.

My father came to, groaning weakly. People helped him up and escorted him to a quiet room to rest.

“Where are the twins?” someone asked. 

“I think they’re off taking their admission letters.”

Just then, the front doors opened and in walked two teenagers in school uniforms.

Chloe and Caleb.

They’d put on a little weight over the years, but still had the same bright, familiar smiles. Only now, when they spotted me, their expressions soured. They turned their backs on me and ran to Billy.

“Dad!” Chloe beamed, hugging him tight. “Aunt Denise! We did it! We both got in!”

Billy grinned, proud. “I knew you would. I’m so proud of you.”

After hugging each twin, he gently guided them to sit down and said softly, “Kids, from now on… don’t call Denise ‘Aunt’ anymore. Call her ‘Mom.’”

The twins’ eyes lit up like it was the best news they’d ever heard. They turned to Denise with huge smiles and shouted in unison—

“Mom!”

“Mom!”

My heart dropped.

“Mom,” I echoed under my breath. Hearing the children I raised—my children—call another woman “Mom” felt like being hit by a wrecking ball.

I was the one who packed their lunches every morning. I was the one who stayed up through the night during flu seasons, who held their hands through heartbreaks, who sat through every parent-teacher conference, who kissed scraped knees and calmed tantrums.

Denise gave a dazzling smile, brushing their hair affectionately and cupping their cheeks. “My kids. Now I don’t have to sneak around school like some criminal just to see you anymore.”

My mother couldn’t take it anymore. Her voice cracked as she shouted, “Chloe! Caleb! Your mother is right here!”

She pointed to me, eyes blazing with disbelief.

“She gave up eighteen years of her life raising you! And now you’re calling the woman who destroyed our family ‘Mom’? Where is your sense?”