He Brought His Mistress Home,Now He's Begging Me to Stay

Tristan just stood there, watching the little boy's outburst with cold indifference. He didn't say a single word to stop it.

Then the boy's eyes lit up. He wailed even louder.

"Grandma! This mean lady is bullying me and Mommy!"

He ran over, crying and tattling.

My mother-in-law had come out to investigate the commotion.

She pulled the boy into her arms, her face full of tender concern. "Don't be scared, sweetheart. Grandma's here. I'd like to see anyone try to bully you and your mother."

As she spoke, her gaze slid pointedly toward me.

I looked at the four of them standing together, united against a common enemy, and a bitter smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

So my mother-in-law had known all along.

I was the only fool who'd been kept in the dark.

The longer I looked, the more they resembled a real family. And I was just the villain disrupting their happiness.

I couldn't stand watching this loving family portrait for another second. I turned around.

"Tristan, let's find a time to finalize the divorce."

When the words left my mouth, I felt surprisingly little pain. Less than I'd expected.

Tristan froze. Genuine shock flickered across his face.

Of course, I didn't miss the little exchange between Vivian and my mother-in-law either. They glanced at each other, barely able to contain their glee.

Tristan's brow furrowed slightly. It was the telltale crease he got when he was losing patience.

"That's enough, Isabel. Stop making a scene."

"You know I'm not going to divorce you."

"You can't have children. Vivian happens to be pregnant. I need an heir. It's that simple."

He said it all without a shred of shame, as if he were explaining basic arithmetic.

My mother-in-law curled her lip.

"Exactly."

"Isabel, where do you get the nerve to throw a fit?"

"Seven years. If we'd raised a hen for seven years, it would've laid eggs by now. But you? You're not even worth as much as a hen."

I looked at my mother-in-law, my expression caught somewhere between a smile and something far colder.

"Why I can't have children? You should know the answer to that better than anyone."

Five years ago.

I had been pregnant.

At thirty-two weeks, I came home from a prenatal checkup and caught Tristan and Vivian in bed together.

In my home. In my bed. Their bodies tangled in sheets that still smelled like my perfume.

"Isabel, I... I..."

Tristan scrambled, panicked, tripping over his own words.

They were still wrapped around each other. My stomach heaved and I doubled over, retching violently.

I threw up until tears and mucus streamed down my face, until there was nothing left but bile.

Tristan fumbled into his clothes and tried to come closer.

I staggered backward.

"Don't touch me!"

"Do you have any idea how disgusting you are?"

"Hiding behind your little 'foster brother and sister' act to sleep together in my home."

I grabbed everything within reach and smashed it. Vases. Picture frames. The bedside lamp. Everything shattered against the walls.

I was hysterical. Completely unhinged.

And it sent me into premature labor.

They rushed me to the hospital, but it was too late. I lost the baby.

When my mother heard about the miscarriage, she raced to the hospital to be with me. She never made it. A car accident on the way. She died before the ambulance could reach her.

When they told me she was gone, the grief hit like a freight train. My body couldn't take it. I hemorrhaged after surgery.

They nearly had to remove my uterus.

One blow after another. The weight of it all crushed me into severe depression.

I lost count of how many times I hurt myself. How many times I tried to end it.

Tristan knelt before me, sobbing, begging me to forgive him.

Right in front of me, he dragged Vivian to a clinic and forced her to terminate the pregnancy. Then he shipped her overseas.

He swore she would never set foot near me again.

Swore he would never contact her.

Slowly, with Tristan by my side and medication steadying the ground beneath my feet, I clawed my way out of the darkness. Out of the shadow of a cheating husband and a mother I would never see again.

Eventually, the depression lifted for good.