Divorced After Carrying My Husband’s Mistress’s Baby

What a shame that the first time I went mad and tried to expose his affair with Rose, he threatened to have me fired—citing privacy violations and defamation.

Finding anyone willing to help me now wasn't going to be easy.

I shot him a glance, long past the point of feeling wronged by his accusations.

I continued wrapping the memorial gift for Mingchu's anniversary.

"You know as well as I do that what I've got on you two isn't limited to what's already out there. If I wanted to leak more, you'd be hemorrhaging a lot more than reputation."

He stood frozen in the doorway for a long moment.

When he finally spoke, his voice was almost helpless.

"After this is over, I'll end things with her. But promise me—we'll make this work. We'll build a real life together. Once the baby comes, we'll be a happy family."

These words. I'd heard them almost daily when I was pregnant.

And yet they never stopped him from tangling himself up with Rose again and again.

One day it was pity for her status as an illegitimate child. The next, sympathy for how alone she was without family to lean on.

There was always a reason—a thousand reasons—why he couldn't help himself around her. Why he had to protect her at all costs.

He didn't move from the doorway, as if he'd stand there until I gave him an answer.

I watched him block out the sunlight and offered a hollow response just to make him leave.

It wasn't until the next morning—when a sex tape of me "cheating" went viral across every platform—that I finally understood what he meant by after this is over.

Percival had released a statement video.

In it, he faced the cameras with perfectly calibrated grief, explaining that I had been caught having an affair during my pregnancy by my own sister. That my exposé of him was nothing but retaliation for being discovered.

Rose sobbed beside him, tears streaming prettily down her face, recounting how she had only tried to counsel me not to hurt Percival's feelings—and how I had turned on her, convinced she would expose my infidelity.

The internet exploded. Everyone demanded Percival divorce "that slut" immediately.

But he played the devoted husband.

"No matter what Aria has done in this lifetime, I cannot stop loving her."

Watching his performance, bile rose in my throat. I couldn't hold it back.

Percival heard me retching from outside and rushed in.

"What's wrong?"

I looked up, still nauseous, and saw Rose trailing in behind him. I shoved his hand away.

"Nothing's wrong. You just make me sick." I met his eyes. "To protect your mistress's crimes, you'll drag your wife's name through the mud without a second thought. Percival, your love really is something special."

His face went white. He opened his mouth to explain.

But Rose dropped to her knees first, weeping like a willow in the rain.

"I'm so sorry, sister! This is all my fault! Percival only made you take the fall because of me!"

Percival's expression melted into instant heartache. He turned to me, his gaze sharp with reproach.

"That's exactly what I came to tell you. The video is AI-generated—I made it myself. At the end of the day, she's your sister. Sacrificing yourself to help her is only right. When I protect her, I'm protecting your family bond. Why do you have to be so aggressive toward her?"

He wasn't finished.

"Besides, you're a housewife. Reputation means nothing to you. Let people talk—it won't change how I feel about you. I know the video is fake, and that's enough. But she's different. She has no one. Her career depends on her public image. If her reputation is destroyed, she loses everything."

Listening to his self-righteous justifications, I felt nothing but revulsion.

Housewife. As if that wasn't his doing.

He was the one who had pressured the company into firing me. He was the one who had blacklisted me across the entire industry—let it be known that anyone who hired me was making an enemy of him.

I'd been rejected from interview after interview. When I finally found a small private studio willing to take me on, he had reported us to the authorities out of pure spite.

In the end, every one of my media credentials was revoked. I became an industry pariah, someone everyone agreed deserved to be cast out.

I didn't bother arguing with him. The midwife had said emotional stability was crucial during postpartum recovery.

Just another two weeks, I reminded myself.

Two more weeks, and I would finally be free.