Divorced the CEO After His Mistress Killed My Father

Five years after Ryan Stephens came back to me, we went to visit my father's grave.

On our way out, I ran into Sandra Henson—the woman who'd wrecked my marriage and killed my father.

She stood hunched against the bitter wind, a few bundles of white chrysanthemums strapped to her back, hawking them to passersby.

Ryan's steps faltered for just a moment before he steered me away, his expression carefully blank.

But halfway home, he said he'd dropped something at the cemetery.

"It's freezing out there," he insisted. "Stay in the car. I'll go alone."

I followed him anyway.

I watched him unlock a bike-share with almost frantic haste, pedaling so fast the wheels practically sparked against the pavement.

I watched him run toward that hunched figure without a second's hesitation.

I watched him wrap the cashmere coat I'd just bought him around her shoulders.

And then they kissed—desperate, hungry, like two people trying to crawl inside each other's skin.

In that moment, I understood: a dog never changes its nature.

The marriage my father traded his life for had finally reached its end.

1.

It was the coldest day Northbridge had seen all winter.

I learned something new that day—when pain reaches its peak, you go numb.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from Ryan.

"Found it. On my way back."

I stood there, watching the two figures clutching each other in the distance.

"No rush. I bought hot drinks. Waiting in the car."

I hit send, then lifted my gaze to take in the performance unfolding before me—star-crossed lovers reunited at last, a tragedy worthy of the stage.

"Ryan, I knew you'd come..."

His voice came out wrecked, barely a rasp. He reached up to brush the tears from her cheek.

"How did you get so thin?"

Sandra only cried harder.

"These five years... I've thought about you every single day..."

Ryan pulled out a bank card and pressed it into her palm.

"Stop being stubborn. If you need anything—anything at all—come to me."

"Ryan, you're all I care about." Her voice trembled. "I tried to forget you. I really did. But I couldn't..."

She tilted her face up to his, eyes glistening.

"What about you? Don't you think about me at all?"

The wind whipped her hair across her face.

Ryan stared at her for three long seconds.

Then his head dipped down, and he kissed her.

His fingers tangled in her hair. Her arms wound around his neck.

Five years ago, I would have stormed over there and slapped them both senseless.

But now? I simply turned and walked away.

I wouldn't make a scene at my father's grave. He deserved peace, even in death.

When Ryan returned, he was holding a Protective Talisman Pendant.

My father had gotten them blessed for us himself—one for Ryan, one for me.

I handed him the hot coffee.

"Why are your ears so red?"

"Got too cold out there." He rubbed them sheepishly. "Sorry for making you wait."

I couldn't tell if his apology was just guilt over the delay—or something else entirely.

"When you went back for it, was anyone else at the cemetery?"

His eyes darted away.

"It was freezing. The place was empty."

We drove home in silence.

I closed my eyes, pretending to rest, but caught the slight curve at the corner of his lips.

I hadn't seen that expression in five years.

Alive. Animated. Brimming with barely contained joy.

Ever since my father died, Ryan had always been so careful around me—muted, walking on eggshells.

Everyone thought we had the perfect ending. In reality, we'd turned our marriage into something politely frozen.

We pulled into the driveway and walked inside, one after the other, without a word.

"Sandra..."

Ryan's hand froze mid-air, still holding his slippers.

That name.

Something dark and violent surged up from the pit of my stomach.

The crack of my palm against his face echoed through the hallway, bright enough to trigger the motion-sensor lights.

"Ryan Stephens. Are you awake now?"

"I'm Noreen Perez. Not Sandra."